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The important thing is to get the right players on the team so Mike can be successful.

quote by Chuck Daly
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Soccer Under 20

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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Push

Step 1... step off to the dance floor
Step 1... step off to the dance floor
Push (hey) ((push up on it))
(good God)
Push - lord (push, yeah) ((push up on it))
Every time u get some
People wanna take it back
They rather see u on the run
Than see u get it like that
Every time they stop u
Change up like a sock
Every time they try 2 clock u
Tick more than they tock
Push I push
Dont let them pull u down, yeah
Push I push
Until u get 2 higher ground
Push
Ure never 2 young, never 2 old
Push
Dont stop until u go
Did u ever stop 2 wonder
Why u put another down?
No man should asunder
The joy that another man found
Maybe bout the business u was worried
Wasnt ever filed in your name
Maybe the cartridge u was playin
Dont fit in your video game
Push I push
Dont let them pull u down
Push I push
Until u get 2 higher ground
Push
Ure never 2 young, never 2 old, yeah
Push
Dont stop until u go, hey
(alright) I push (push) ((push up on it))
(push) I push (push, push, hey)
(push) (come on and push it now, hey push)
((push up on it)) (push) I push
Every time u get some push
People wanna take it back p-push
They rather see u on the run push
Than see u get it like that
Every time they stop u
Change up like a sock push
Every time they try 2 clock u push
U gotta tick more than they can tock
Push I push

[...] Read more

song performed by Prince
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I Think I Can Beat Mike Tyson

Artist: jazzy jeff & the fresh prince
2 old men:
Hey...hey leroy...leroy
Yeah
Did you hear about that boy mike tyson?
Mike...mike tyson hes the boy
That played football from montreal aint he?
No no you old coop, he a...he a boxer man
Yeah
Let me tell ya I went to his fight a couple months ago.
I seen him hit this boy, and he hit the boy so hard
His head flew off into the eigtheenth row
(laughing)
They had to get his head out of the eighteenth row
[prince & jeff]
I was in jeffs crib one night about eight
And we were watchina couple of mike tyson fight tapes
Jeff was like...
Man, you see how hard mikes punchin?
Come on jeff the other guy was just lungin
Left, right, left, right, another k.o.
If that was me Id a been ok though
The very next day I gave russell a ring
With j.l. and omar we all called don king
I said yeah, don I got a problem
Tell em prince
yeah whats up? what you sayin? you tryin to solve em?
forget the small talk lets get to the nitty gritty
me and mike, two months, trump, atlantic city
Yo, you got this you gonna bust dude up
Yeah, you can be my trainer
Word up?
Im rough like a freight train smooth like ice
And yo jeff, straight up, I think I can mike tyson
Man, you can beat him, you can beat him
Yo man, word up
Yo I put on a couple of pounds man we can do this
You can do it
Newspaper boy, old men:
Extra, extra read all about it
Fresh prince challenges iron mike tyson to a fight
(laughing)
Ah hes crazy
Aint that the boy who knocked the guys head in the fifthteen row?
Hey leroy, you read the paper?
That boy done lost his man
[prince, barber]
There was press conference to see what training I was doing
Before then I had never heard reporters booing
Cameras flashing I was in the middle

[...] Read more

song performed by Will Smith
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"Cassius" Love Vs. "Sonny" Wilson

Hi, this is Al. This scene takes place at a typical Beach Boys practice
session. We're in the midst of preparing for an upcoming show when a feud
breaks out between Brian and Mike.
Alright you guys we have a, uh dowuh
Come on
We have a show this weekend
Open your mouth
What do we have this weekend?
What are you trying to say?
Come on Mike, what are you trying to tell us Mike?
Well I'm trying to tell you we have a show this weekend and we could be
sharper. So what do you say we go over the ending of "Little Deuce Coupe"
one more time?
Alright
Alright yeah, come on
A-one a-two -a one two three
Little deuce coupe you don't know what I got
You don't know what I got
Little deuce coupe you don't know
Well I'm not bragging babe so don't put me down
Woooooa
What's going on?
Uh listen Mike, with a voice like yours when you open your mouth it's a
big put down.
What? What? Ohhh
Yeah like in "Surfin' Safari":
Let's go surfing now
Everybody's learning how
Come on and safari with me
Early in the morning we'll be starting out
Some honey's will be coming along
Oh yeah? Well when I, at least when I'm singing it doesn't sound like
Mickey Mouse with a sore throat.
Oh no, Ahh man.
I could come from miles away
Ain't got (ain't got, ain't got) no place to stay
Where have you gone
Farmer's Mother
Oh no
Hey wait a minute, wait a minute hold on hold it Mike, Mike no one really
complains when Brian sings those pretty ballads
You mean "In My Room"?
Yeah and "Surfer Girl" too
Ahhh ooooo ahhhhh woooo oooooo
Wait a minute Carl, nobody complains about the way Mike sings his fast songs.
You're talking about "Surfin' U.S.A."?
Yeah and "Shut Down" too
Tach it up, tach it up
Buddy gonna I shut you down
Well what do you think?

[...] Read more

song performed by Beach Boys
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The Spooniad

[The late Mr. Jonathan Swift Somers, laureate of Spoon River, planned The Spooniad as an epic in twenty-four books, but unfortunately did not live to complete even the first book. The fragment was found among his papers by William Marion Reedy and was for the first time published in Reedy's Mirror of December 18th, 1914.]

Of John Cabanis' wrath and of the strife
Of hostile parties, and his dire defeat
Who led the common people in the cause
Of freedom for Spoon River, and the fall
Of Rhodes' bank that brought unnumbered woes
And loss to many, with engendered hate
That flamed into the torch in Anarch hands
To burn the court-house, on whose blackened wreck
A fairer temple rose and Progress stood --
Sing, muse, that lit the Chian's face with smiles,
Who saw the ant-like Greeks and Trojans crawl
About Scamander, over walls, pursued
Or else pursuing, and the funeral pyres
And sacred hecatombs, and first because
Of Helen who with Paris fled to Troy
As soul-mate; and the wrath of Peleus' son,
Decreed to lose Chryseis, lovely spoil
Of war, and dearest concubine.
Say first,
Thou son of night, called Momus, from whose eyes
No secret hides, and Thalia, smiling one,
What bred 'twixt Thomas Rhodes and John Cabanis
The deadly strife? His daughter Flossie, she,
Returning from her wandering with a troop
Of strolling players, walked the village streets,
Her bracelets tinkling and with sparkling rings
And words of serpent wisdom and a smile
Of cunning in her eyes. Then Thomas Rhodes,
Who ruled the church and ruled the bank as well,
Made known his disapproval of the maid;
And all Spoon River whispered and the eyes
Of all the church frowned on her, till she knew
They feared her and condemned.
But them to flout
She gave a dance to viols and to flutes,
Brought from Peoria, and many youths,
But lately made regenerate through the prayers
Of zealous preachers and of earnest souls,
Danced merrily, and sought her in the dance,
Who wore a dress so low of neck that eyes
Down straying might survey the snowy swale
Till it was lost in whiteness.
With the dance
The village changed to merriment from gloom.
The milliner, Mrs. Williams, could not fill
Her orders for new hats, and every seamstress
Plied busy needles making gowns; old trunks

[...] Read more

poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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The one game we all play

The one game we all play

We play games
To show our valour
And mainly to win

We do not mind going for coaching
If we feel we do not have the
Required strength to win

We play games
Either as a team or individual
The attempt is to demonstrate
That we are better talented
Than the team or member
Against whom we play

Nations enthuse people to play games
So that they add pride

Some games are played with
Gadgets and protective accessories

We have spectators to watch
The way we play
We have umpires and referees
Who ensure rules of the games
Are strictly adhered
And it is all a fair play

We play games indoor or outdoor
We play games in daylight
Or under artificial illumination

We score while playing
And the score achieved by a team or individual
In a specific time
Decides the winner

We telecast the games
We comment on the strengths and weaknesses
Of a team or individual

We conduct national and international
Tournaments to declare a team or individual
As champion

Irrespective of skills, race, gender
We all play a game
Which is played mainly to lose

[...] Read more

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Crazy Little Stalker Named Mike

This stalker named Mike he just can't handle it
This stalker named Mike he just can't get over it
He's so loco
Crazy little stalker named Mike

This stalker named Mike (named Mike)
He cries (Like a baby)
In a cradle all night
He screams (whoo hoo)
He moans
He shakes all over like a lunatic
I once kinda loved him
Now I more then kinda hate him
Wish that I could just get rid of him
Crazy little stalker named Mike

There goes his mind
He's losing his grip on reality that's for sure
He drives me crazy
He gives my computer viruses and so much damn spyware
Then he cries when I won't take him back
Breaking out in cool cool sweat
Wondering how he next try to get my attention

Boy needs to learn how to be cool, relax, get off my back
Hit the road Mike
Hitch-hike
And maybe take a fatal ride on the back of a psycho's motorbike
Just leave me the hell alone
Crazy little stalker named Mike

poem by Ramona Thompson
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Mc'Clusky's Nell

In Mike Maloney's Nugget bar the hooch was flowin' free,
An' One-eyed Mike was shakin' dice wi' Montreal Maree,
An roarin' rageful warning when the boys got overwild,
When peekin' through the double door he spied a tiny child.
Then Mike Maloney muttered: "Hell! Now ain't that jest too bad;
It's Dud McClusky's orphen Nell a-lookin' for her dad.
An' him in back, a-lushin' wine wi' Violet de Vere-
Three times I've told the lousy swine to keep away from here."
"Pore leetle sing! He leaves her lone, so he go on ze spree:
I feex her yet, zat Violet," said Montreal Maree.
Now I'm accommodatin' when it comes to scented sin
But when I saw that innocent step in our drunken din,
I felt that I would like to crawl an' hide my head in shame.
An' judgin' by their features all them sourdoughs felt the same.
For there they stood like chunks o' wood, forgettin' how to swear,
An' every glass o' likker was suspended in the air.
For with her hair of sunny silk, and big, blue pansy eyes
She looked jest like an angel child stepped outa paradise.
So then Big Mike, paternal like, took her upon his knee.
"Ze pauv' petite! She ees so sweet," said Montreal Maree.

The kid was mighty scared, we saw, an' peaked an' pale an' sad;
She nestled up to One-eyed Mike jest like he was her dad.
Then he got strokin' of her hair an' she began to sob,
An' there was anger in the air of all that plastered mob,
When in a hush so stark an' strained it seemed to stab the ear,
We heard the lush, plunk-parlour laugh o' Violet de Vere.
Then Montreal Maree arose an' vanished from our sight,
An' soon we heard the sound o' blows suggestin' female fight.
An' when she joined the gang again dishevelly was she:
"Jeezecrize! I fix zat Violet," said Montreal Maree.

Then Barman Bill cam forward with what seemed a glass o' milk:
"It's jest an egg-nog Missy, but it's slick an' smooth as silk."
An' as the kiddy slowly sipped wi' gaze o' glad surprise,
Them fifty sozzled sourdoughs uttered fifty happy sighs.
Then Ragtime Joe swung on his stool an' soft began to play
A liltin' tune that made ye think o' daffydills in May;
An' Gumboot Jones in solemn tones said: "You should hear her sing;
They've got the cabin next to mine, an like a bird in Spring,
She fills that tumble-down old shack wi' simple melodee."
"Maybe she sing a song for us," said Montreal Maree.

Now I don't hold wi' mushy stuff, tear-jerkin' ain't my line,
Yet somehow that kid's singin' sent the shivers down my spine;
An' all them salted sourdoughs sighed, an' every eye was dim
For what she sang upon the bar was just a simple hymn;
Somethin' about "Abide with me, fast falls the eventide,"
My Mother used to sing it - say, I listened bleary-eyed.
That childish treble was so sweet, so clear, so tender true,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert William Service
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University Of Central Florida Volleyball

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poem by Caasder Fronds
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Soccer–Passion Song

Soccer–Passion Song

Soccer in the evening;
Soccer in the morning;
Soccer in spring and fall.

Soccer in the raining;
Soccer in the snowing;
Soccer in winter and summer.

Soccer in between my feet,
where I walk;
Soccer in my heart and mind,
how I live;
Soccer my love and life.

Soccer I wake up and play;
Soccer I hold it to sleep;
Soccer my work and rest.

Soccer I sing a new song;
Soccer I dance the magic steps;
Soccer my tears and joy.

Soccer my Mom buys it for me to play;
Soccer my Dad brings me to the game;
Soccer my dear Love watches me to score.

Soccer I dribble and shoot;
Soccer I pass and fall;
Soccer my glory and downfall.

Soccer I strike to attack;
Soccer I tackle to defend;
Soccer my struggle and survival.

Soccer I receive the flags and the whistles;
Soccer I get the yellow and red card;
Soccer my moves and stop.

Soccer I meet my friends;
Soccer I make my enemies;
Soccer my conflict and peace.

Soccer I play and watch;
Soccer I watch but cannot play;
Soccer my dream and reality.

Soccer I learn the rights;
Soccer I confess the fouls;

[...] Read more

poem by Laijon Liu
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Lonely Heart

Mike and a girl talking to each other:
Girl: mike..
Mike: yeah, baby
Girl: its over
Mike: how can you say that?
Girl: Im sorry. the love is gone.
Mike: no, please dont leave me.
Girl: dont feel bad.
Mike: how can I not feel bad. I love you.
Girl: but, its better this way.
Mike: no. I dont believe this.
Girl: no, baby
I never thought that it could be
You would turn and do this to me
I can feel the love that we had between us
Merely fade away
You told me youd never go away
And for me youd always be here
Now you tell me that somethings wrong and you must move on
Chorus:
Lonely heart is what Ill be
And no one cares for me
Let me show you now
The way that it would be if you were with me
Now I can feel the love we share
When you say its not there
Deep inside I know that you still care
But I need you to show me now
Im lookin for a quiet place where love is free
And the dreams we shared last eternally
I feel now that its the time
So wont you please come over here
The closer and the closer I get to you
Keeps me warm to know that youll stay around
So please keep your promise to me and dont go
Chorus
Let me show you now
The way that it would be if you were with me
Now I can feel the love we share
When you say its not there
Deep inside I know that you still care
But I need you to show me now
Chorus (fades out)

song performed by Boyz II Men
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The Way It Wuz

Las' July--an', I persume
'Bout as hot
As the ole Gran'-Jury room
Where they sot!--
Fight 'twixt Mike an' Dock McGriff--
'Pears to me jes' like as if
I'd a dremp' the whole blame thing--
Allus ha'nts me roun' the gizzard
When they're nightmares on the wing,
An' a feller's blood's jes' friz!
Seed the row from a to izzard--
'Cause I wuz a-standin' as clost to 'em
As me an' you is!

Tell you the way it wuz--
An' I do n't want to see,
Like _some_ fellers does,
When they 're goern to be
Any kind o' fuss--
On'y makes a rumpus wuss
Far to interfere
When their dander's riz--
But I wuz a-standin' as clost to 'em
As me an' you is!

I wuz kind o' strayin'
Past the blame saloon--
Heerd some fiddler playin'
That 'ole hee-cup tune!'
Sort o' stopped, you know,
Far a minit er so,
And wuz jes' about

Settin' down, when--_Jeemses-whizz!_
Whole durn winder-sash fell out!
An' there laid Doc McGriff, and Mike
A-straddlin' him, all bloody-like,
An' both a-gittin' down to biz!--
An' I wuz a-standin' as clost to 'em
As me an' you is!

I wuz the on'y man aroun'--
(Durn old-fogy town!
'Peared more like, to me,
_Sund'y_ 'an _Saturd'y!)_
Dog come 'crost the road
An' tuck a smell
An' put right back;
Mishler driv by 'ith a load
O' cantalo'pes he couldn't sell--

[...] Read more

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Saga Of Dandy, The Devil & Day

[kool keith]
Why don't y'all play that pitch
The right manage gonna be in the game
[moe love]
It's the top of the ninth
Josh gibson is at the plate
The bases are loaded, it's a three and two count
And here's the pitch
[kool keith]
Steppin up to the plate, first batter
[moe love]
Kool keith
[kool keith]
Black baseball, it was a known fact jack
With the weather so hot, who could play like danny day
The greatest and the best, like the satchel brother paige
Long tom and little bomb, in the hall of fame
Like josh and bunt, be alert, duck
Everybody was down for beer and peanuts
Foxes in their sunday's best, their brightest dress
[moe love]
And on deck, ced g
[ced g]
Now baseball today troop, is mostly not racial
But back in the days it was all segregated
The whites had the majors and then the blacks had the negro leagues
They both had great talent but then us blacks have no history
Of all our great players, the teams in the ballpark
But we're here to shed light, restore the glory they haven't got
Black baseball, they paved the way
With players like dandy, the devil, and day
(repeat 3x)
Black baseball
[moe love]
Bring er home
[ced g]
Now the ballparks they played in was very far from a stadium
They only sat hundreds troops as opposed to the thousands
But the stands they was packed, for the league that was fat
With teams like the baccarats and the homestead grays
The eagles and many more, came ready to play
In cities like birmingham, newark and chi-town
The bus trips were very long, paychecks would bring a frown
But not to these players, cause they really loved baseball
You could ban them from majors, but not from the game
With players like leon day, who pitched almost every day
His arm would hold up, blowin hitters with smoke away
And then there was bullet joe, also was smokey joe
King richard and savateen, and brothers like ed pole
Next, batter up!

[...] Read more

song performed by Ultramagnetic Mc's
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Wednesday's Child (Sheffield Wednesday Soccer Club)

It eats soccer. It breathes soccer. It lives soccer. It fades when it's team fades and it blooms when it's team blooms. It has the letters S.W. permanently etched upon it's brain and it probably even arranges it's Monopoly money in S.W. formations. What is it, you ask? It's a soccer fan. You knew that, didn't you? But it isn't just any soccer fan. It is specifically a Sheffield Wednesday soccer fan. Or addict, for want of a better word.

Yes, of course, even I know about Liverpool, Everton, Arsenal and Man. United fans. They're the normal, run-of-the-mill type but Owls supporters are really Something Else!

I have had the somewhat dubious good fortune of becoming rather well acquainted with one of these strange 'animals' but until today, I'd managed to evade any one-to-one discourse on the merits or demerits of one man's passion for his team. On the face of it, you could say I asked for it. In a weak moment, I queried how his team had fared over the past week or so. It was like asking a hypochondriac the state of his health.

Well, there I was, supposedly having a cup of tea with his wife, my friend Sheila. But Sheila knew the signs and, together with two equally clued-up daughters, had opportunely beaten a hasty retreat into the garden. They had long since paid their dues. Now, it was my turn.

It was a reasonably tentative beginning. It is more than probable that Ken, the addict, suspected I would never stay the course but feeling somewhat emotionally trapped by the knowledge that he had no sons with whom to share his enthrallment of the game, what else could I do but don my interested-looking mask, take a deep breath and settle back to hear him out. By tacit consent, we both knew that I was a victim of sorts. Destiny rides again!

My heart sunk a little when I realised that he was starting from scratch. From the actual day when his team first started playing. His enthusiasm was boundless but somehow I found myself becoming absorbed in what he was saying. His eyes took on a bright, azure sparkle and his mouth was motoring at twice the speed of sound as it travelled back and forth in time. I stared in mute fascination. This was for real! This was the guy's life. Dear Lord, where was I when enthusiasm for anything was dished out? I raised my eyes Heavenwards and found myself looking straight into those of a grey, woolly owl who was peering down at me from a built-in show-case. The Sheffield Wednesday Football Club mascot. I knew I was a gonner when I found myself asking how the Club had come to be so named.

Sheffield Wednesday, as we know it today, Ken told me, came into being in 1867 as the football section of the Wednesday Cricket Club, which had been in existence since 1820. The cricket club had been the creation of a group of Sheffield craftsmen who gave it the name 'Wednesday' for the simple reason that that was the day when they took regular afternoons off to pursue their sporting enthusiasms.

Not surprisingly, perhaps, the meeting at which the football section was formed took place on a Wednesday and this, at a local sporting pub, The Adelphi. Members of the cricket club called the meeting because they wanted a way of keeping everybody together during the winter months but the step was probably partly inspired by the dramatic increase in football's popularity in the town over the previous ten years.

Ken's eyes misted over somewhat as he proudly told me that it had been Sheffield who had led the way in organised football even before the birth of the national FA in 1863. So Wednesday no doubt felt it appropriate to have their own football section. At the very least, it would mean that their players would not be tempted to drift off to other clubs at the end of the summer and forget to return in the following spring.

The founders could not have imagined that the infant football section would become the dominant partner. So strong, in fact, that within sixteen years it would break free and Wednesday Football Club would become one of the most famous names in English football - and a force in the professional game to boot (no pun intended!) Would they also have believed that the Cricket Club would survive only until 1924 and then die through lack of support, so that today, it is all but forgotten.

By now, there was no doubt that Ken knew he had my attention for I was leaning forward in my chair, hanging onto every word. Vortex-like, my concentration was being pulled and drawn into the centre of what could only be described as the secret world of the soccer-addict; a passionate and breathtaking intensity which would encompass anything related thereto, from a humble soccer boot to a moth-eaten ticket to some long-ago and memorable match played.

'Look! ' he said, paging through a well-thumbed book, 'here's a picture of Wednesday's first match at Olive Grove. This site was bought from the Duke of Norfolk. Did you know that? ' As if I would! But no reply was necessary as he pressed on regardless to tell me about how officials at the time were unable to persuade either Preston or Aston Villa to provide the opposition for a match but Blackburn Rovers did decide to accept the invitation to play. Things weren't going too well but I wanted to fall off my chair to show him how thrilled I was too when Wednesday recovered from a three-goal deficit to draw 4-4 but he wouldn't have noticed. He was in another world.

And then he was down in the depths again as he showed me pictures of headlines proclaiming how Dooley had broken his leg at Deepdale way back in 1953. It was to be the end of the big centre-forward's career. Oh, shame, Ken, I said. And I really meant it.

1954-55 proved to be a disastrous season with Wednesday finishing bottom of the table, nine points below relegation companions Leicester City. The Owls won only 8 games, losing 24 and conceding 100 goals. However, Ken assured me, they won the Second Division Championship in 1955-56 with three points to spare and in the following season they finished mid-table. But, oh dear, by 1957-58 they were down again. The Addict's voice faded and I thought he had been called by the angels.

'And then....? ' I encouraged. Momentarily, he seemed to surface.

'Go on, get along with you, ' he said with a half-smile, 'you're not really interested.'

'Oh, I am, I am, ' I protested gamely, whereupon he went on to tell me all about the so-called bribes scandal or betting-coup revelations which broke in the Sunday newspapers of 1964. Not only did Wednesday suffer in terms of its reputation but it also lost two of its best players.

The situation sounded sufficiently grave for me to try my mournful-look but no, it wasn't necessary as The Addict changed course and went on to tell me the good news about how in 1971, that bloke Dooley, (who'd broken his leg 18 years or so earlier and subsequently had to have it amputated) had been made manager of the club. He was still an idol in the city and the folk-hero of Hillsborough. But his magic was limited and he proved that he was as human as anyone else in his lack of anticipated performance.

But Sheila was rattling crockery in the kitchen and the thought of a nice cup of tea was becoming more and more enticing. Escape was out of the question. We still had about twenty years more to work through! There's a limit to a body's endurance and a feminine mind's appreciation of a predominantly masculine interest.

So, a little less stoically now, I went 'up' with the Owls and 'down' with the Owls as we travelled through from one Division to another over a timespan of many years. But much of their pain was to dissolve in relief when in 1985, they reached their highest position for 25 years by coming fifth in the FA Cup semi-Final. Even if they did lose to Everton.

In that same year, Wednesday were to equalise in the dying seconds of the match with Chelsea. They were 3-O up at half-time and I can well imagine how Ken had nearly fallen off his chair when hearing on the BBC World Service later that evening that the game had ended at 4-4. He still hasn't got over the sheer horror of it all.

There was no stopping him now and I just had to give in and hear about how the next time round, Chelsea lost the toss with the Owls' Chairman tossing the coin and the replay going to Stamford Bridge. Wednesday lost 2-1 proving that the Chelsea bogey had struck again. 'We can't even beat a bunch of pensioners, ' the Addict grinned. I was impressed by his ability not to take himself and his beloved team too seriously.

'And last year, you actually visited the Club, didn't you? ' I asked, determined to hastily gobble up the few remaining years so that I could go and have my tea. I knew of course that the highlight of his addicthood had been when Wednesday were promoted to First Division by beating Man. United in the Rumbelows League Cup Final at Wembley and didn't want to go into all that lot again. Like I said, there's a limit........

'Ah yes, ' he replied dreamily. Even he was beginning to tire. But no, not yet. I had a feeling we were about to move into extra time. More like injury-time, one would say.

'Come, ' he said, leading me towards a cupboard filled with everything and anything that could have any association whatsoever with his team. I'd seen it all before and I would see it again, but there's an indisputable thrill of sharing both old-time and current mementoes and memorabilia of a soccer club, some six thousand miles away, right here in the living room of one of its most ardent supporters.

[...] Read more

poem by Margaret Kollmer
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Soccer Rollback

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poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
Added by Poetry Lover
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If It's Love!

It's important that unshown love,
Comes directly shown from you.
To say it...
Doesn't make,
That-love-be-true!

It's important that unshown love,
Is a thing one wants to do...
Just to prove what is said,
Is absolutely true.

A hug,
And maybe a kiss.
A touch,
That has been missed.
A show of thoughtfulness...
Can go a very long distance.

A call,
Every once in a while...
Will go further than a mile.
If love is there to be shared...
Show someone they are cared for!
And doubts will come no more.

It's important that unshown love,
Comes directly shown from you.
To say it...
Doesn't make,
That-love-be-true!

It's important it's directly shown,
If it's love.
Yes!

It's important it's directly shown,
If it's love.
Yes!

It's important it's directly shown.
It's important it's directly shown.
It's important it's directly shown,
If it's love!

It shoos a boo-hooin'...
Known.

It's important it's directly shown.
It's important it's directly shown.
It's important it's directly shown,

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Twin State

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poem by Caasder Fronds
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Three Mcs & One Dj

Cause nobody can do it like mix master can,
Come on now
Ive got the d double o, d double o style
Here we go again because its been awhile
Do me a favor dont touch that dial
I rock from manhattan to the miracle mile
My names mike d and Im the ladies choice
I want to get next to you like rose royce
Yall gather round to hear my golden voice
Cause when its time to rhyme you know I get noice
Cruising like a fan boat on the glade
Hell tweak your ass across the cross fade
So watch your back when he takes the stage
Or hell send you off on a naked rampage
3 mcs and one dj
We be getting down with no delay
Mix master mike what cha got to say
Bug out/to the mic/all the time
Sweet and sour like a tangerine
Fresh like a box of krispy kremes
Kenny rogers gambler is my gambling theme
Mix master mike with the scratch routine
Always updated and in the know
You know we break it down going toe to toe
The bass is booming from down below
And norton is chillin with mario
Well my name is adrock Im a scorpio
Dont ask me cause I just dont know
Im known to mop Im known to glow
But dont get mad cause I got to go
Three mcs and one dj
We be getting down with no delay
Mix master mike what cha got to say
Gotta get down
Mix master cut faster
All top secret and classified
I grab a hold of a mic and let the words glide
Its all hypnotic and sanctified
I never wanna let a bad day slip by
Now we be getting stupid in your area
Causing all kinds of hysteria
My beats is sick like malaria
But dont worry Ill take care of ya
Me and adam adam and mario c
In the studio its the place to be
To all party people who are happy and free
With mix master mike were making history
Three mcs and one dj
We be getting down with no delay
Mix master mike what you got to say

[...] Read more

song performed by Beastie Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Finger Lickin' Good

It's finger licken, finger licken good y'all
Finger licken, finger licken good y'all
So mike d what's up? yo yauch what's up?
Come on mike let's tear it up
Hear no evil see no evil talking no bullshit
So many damn people are so damn full of it
Keyboard money mark you know he's not having it
Just give him some wood and he'll build you a cabinet
I'm convinced that vince is ripping me off
I think it's his girdle that's tipping me off
Mike d's out back and he's growing onions
I've got bigger buns than my man paul bunyon's
I've been going nuts gettin' all cooped up
Fully hermitizing but now i'm getting souped up
It's time to turn the page to a brand new chapter
Setting my sights and you know what i'm after
I'll be in the paper the news with ernie ernesto
They'll even print my recipe for pasta with pesto
Now here's another special of the day
I've got more spice than the frugal gourmet
Well mike d what got for me
Show these good people what it means to be d
Well they call me mike d with the mad man style
I put the mic up to my lips and i can scream for a while
Created a sound at which many were shocked
I've got a million ideas that i ain't even rocked
I've got the light bulb flashing at the top of my head
Never wake up on the wrong side of the bed
You're an idea man not a yes man
With a point to make you're bound to take a stand
'cause i'm pete the puma minnie the moocher
Got every type of flavor that will suit ya
You know the bass is real fat because it's gotta be like that
A snare on the funky tin and a taste of the high hat
Yo yauch what's up? mike d what's up?
Come on yauch, let's tear it up
I could catch a groove like a flash in the dark
Grab a hold of your attention like a thief in the park
'cause i can flip a rhyme off the tip of my tongue
Switching up the rhythm like the rhyme's a piece of chewing gum
Now i might chew but i don't bite
My ideas are mine when i begin to write
In my sleep i'll be thinking 'bout beats
And getting on the mic and busting some treats
And sporting the crazy funky threads that you've never even seen before
What i'm lacking from the macking i can find at the thrift store
I won't scuff nor scuffle just grin as they walk by
Take time to rhyme for a girl i hear talk fly
Down some papaya down with the revolution
Always wear my goggles 'cause there's so much pollution

[...] Read more

song performed by Beastie Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Finger Lickin Good (Cheesey Remix)

So Mike D What's Up? Yo Yauch What's Up? Come On Mike Let's
Tear It Up Hear No Evil See No Evil Talking No Bullshit So Many
Damn People Are So Damn Full Of It Keyboard Money Mark You
Know He's Not Having It Just Give Him Some Wood And He'll Build
You A Cabinet I'm Convinced That Vince Is Ripping Me Off I Think It's
His Girdle That's Tipping Me Off Mike D's Out Back And He's Growing
Onions I've Got Bigger Buns Than My Man Paul Bunyon's I've Been
Going Nuts Gettin' All Cooped Up Fully Hermitizing But Now I'm
Getting Souped Up It's Time To Turn The Page To A Brand New
Chapter Setting My Sights And You Know What I'm After I'll Be In
The Paper The News With Ernie Ernesto They'll Even Print My
Recipe For Pasta With Pesto Now Here's Another Special Of The Day
I've Got More Spice Than The Frugal Gourmet
Well Mike D What Got For Me Show These Good People What It
Means To Be D Well They Call Me Mike D With The Mad Man Style I Put
The Mic Up To My Lips And I Can Scream For A While Created A Sound
At Which Many Were Shocked I've Got A Million Ideas That I Ain't
Even Rocked I've Got The Light Bulb Flashing At The Top Of My Head
Never Wake Up On The Wrong Side Of The Bed You're An Idea Man
Not A Yes Man With A Point To Make You're Bound To Take A Stand
'Cause I'm Pete The Puma Minnie The Moocher Got Every Type Of
Flavor That Will Suit Ya You Know The Bass Is Real Fat Because It's
Gotta Be Like That A Snare On The Funky Tin And A Taste Of The High Hat
Yo Yauch What's Up? Mike D What's Up? Come On Yauch, Let's Tear
It Up I Could Catch A Groove Like A Flash In The Dark Grab A Hold Of
Your Attention Like A Thief In The Park 'Cause I Can Fl

song performed by Beastie Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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