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But really, I can only be dangerous for the team in one place, and that is in the box.

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I Can Only Blame Myself

I can only blame myself for my lack of success
The I am not good enough on myself I impress
In my mind of self doubt I have planted the seed
With my attitude at anything how can I succeed
And it does seem you are not that different to me
Since the frailties in others in our own selves we see
If you see yourself as not worthy not worthy you will be
It is self defeatist to think negatively
For my lack of success I only have myself to blame
And though to be self defeatist is not a cause for shame
Negativity is the mental rock that keeps dragging one down
Your barrier to financial success and renown
And sad to say our type have never been rare
There are plenty like us in the big World out there.

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Thanks For The Thanks, But No Thanks

Altruistically assisting
Presuming I do help,
To bring us into surplus
Before the month runs out,
Fiscal obliteration
Resounds inside of thee
Transubstantiation
Your wealth relies on me...

Thanks for the thanks, but no thanks
Gratitude should be sincere.

Exhalation of your worries
As you offer up your hand,
“Thank you! For doing this!
You know you are the man? ”
A petulant retreat
To avoid transparency,
Of tearing inner conflict
Nearing calamity...

Thanks for the thanks, but no thanks
Indebted shamelessly!

Requesting more of I
Then I really have to give,
It’s just a job to me
But the future for your kids,
Insightfully placated
Accepting honour-bound,
Words of praise and thanks
Opinion turned around...

Thanks for the thanks, but no thanks
Understanding’s now austere.
Thanks for the thanks, its worth more
Then money, sweat and tears.
19/6/09 Ado

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Ready For The Real Thing

Dead on my feet -- got a deadline to meet,
But it can wait -- cant concentrate --
This one-track mind wont leave you behind
Why punish me with memories
If only now I could turn back the pages --
I played some games that Ive lived to regret,
I only wish I had gone through those stages --
Years before we met --
But I know
*this time --
Im ready for the real thing,
Last time --
I couldnt be true,
This time --
Im ready for the real thing too*
Turn on the light, Ive been tossing all night,
I try to read but its love that I need --
In my mind -- the sound of goodbye,
Keeps hauntin me like a distant dream --
If only now I could turn back the pages --
I played some games that Ive lived to regret,
I only with I had gone through those changes
Years before we met --
And baby
( * repeat)
This time --
Im ready for the real thing,
Last time --
I couldnt be true,
This time --
Get ready for the real thing,
Cause this time baby --
Im ready for you

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You Never Can Be Too Sure About The Girl

You sure know what your name is, you sure of where ya live
You know how much you make, ah, ya know how much you give
You know where your house is, you know which road to take
Ah, you're sure 'bout lots of things, look out there's one mistake
[Chorus:]
There just ain't no doubt, there's just one thing you're never too sure about
Never can be too sure about the girl
Oh, you never can be too sure about the girl
You leave her there, when you get back
She calls ya Bill, when your name is Jack
Never can be too sure about the girl
You know about the truth, you can see it in her eyes
One thing you know about love, it'll cut ya down to size
You hear what they tell you, do you do what you're told
And if they say yes, does it mean it's really so?
[Chorus]
You're ready for the thrill tonight, you think you'll take it slow
But she's forgotten more, boy, than you will ever know
She calls you up in the middle of the night, she says she's lonesome and alone
You're all revved up, finally some place to go
You knock on that door - nobody's home
Never can be too sure about the girl
Ooh, you never can be too sure about the girl
You leave her there, when you get back
She calls ya Bill, when your name is Jack
Never can be too sure about the girl
Oh, you never can be too sure about the girl
She'll drive you crazy boy, oh, girl, no no
Never can be too sure about the girl
Never too sure, never too sure, never too sure, never too sure
Never too sure about that girl
No, you never can be too sure about the girl
Oh, you never can be too sure about the girl... [To fade]

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Nightingale Confesses Into Straighter Teeth For the Seven Falling Ones

'...descend and of the curveship lend a myth to God.' - Hart Crane

The boys, seven falling: Jamey Rodemayer, Tyler Clementi,
Raymond Chase, Asher Brown, Billy Lucas, Seth Walsh, Justin Aaberg


Even the pigeons on my stoop are silent now.
One mourning dove coos tenderly for these who
have taken their own lives publicly on our behalf,
for those many gone before them, broken hearts
enraged, no more to engage the unpersuaded
world which, one of them, one of the public ones,
in spite of murmuring wharves, in spite of amorous
dark alleys bitter in the pitch of the last hateful
American Century, Hart Crane, wrote before his leap
from the ship beside the phallic curve where Cuba
meets the lisping sea, took his tongue away which
sang of chill dawns breaking upon bridges whose
spans still freely splinter light returning hungover
from the night wharves, grottoes, and denim World
Wars, industrial embraces crushing every man and
now another one abandons his fingers and fiddling
to scattering light, takes flight from ledges to
edge close to an embrace no longer forbidden -

'And so it was I entered the broken world
to trace the visionary company of love...'

I am the itinerant priest who sits at meager feasts.
Suffering congregants, forlorn over their starfish and soup,
ask about dreams, confess to anguish, ask what should be done.
Here at my confessional I can only plead mercy upon the boys
who have jumped from bridges, hung themselves, cut, sliced their
compulsive hands, exploded hearts, leaping dears eyes ablaze in
thrall of antlers, trembling flanks strong to fly decrying the
violent hunt which always ends in a death bequeathing these
chopped bits to me and to others like me who remain at table,
plates before, to stare at what is to be later scattered, sown,
these pieces in and for Love-without-name still a stain upon
confused local deities and their wild-eyed supplicants.


But there is no stain upon the promiscuous sea.

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Stay Strong (My Little Angel)

I write about whatever comes to mind,
singing about the promised land,
and my failed relationships,
and how the world can be so cold,

I try to stay positive,
in the hard times that life gives us,
trying to stay on the right track,
and stray from the darker side of life,

Chorus: Stay Strong (My Little Angel)
I'm here with you by yourside,
Stay Strong (My Little Angel)
I'm here with you by yourside,
Stay Strong (My Little Angel)
I'm here with you by yourside,

I know what happened and why you are,
where you are,
how they had made you feel,
like you had done something wrong,
and how they mock you in their evil manner,

how you took a blade to your skin,
wishing you could escape everything,
and just make the pain go away,
how you wished you could make everything go away,

Chorus: Stay Strong (My Little Angel)
I'm here with you by yourside,
Stay Strong (My Little Angel)
I'm here with you by yourside,
Stay Strong (My Little Angel)
I'm here with you by yourside,


When I had heard the news,
I nearly broke down and cried,
knowing what kind of pain you were going through,
and how confused and alone you had felt,
like the world was against you again,

the one that you loved,
betrayed you in the darkest of night,
and made you feel so worthless,
made you feel like you couldn't go on,

The worlds cold and evil like that,
but I'm right here holding your hand,
hoping that you'll hold on with me,
hoping that the love I have for you will give you hope,

Chorus: Stay Strong (My Little Angel)
I'm here with you by yourside,
Stay Strong (My Little Angel)
I'm here with you by yourside,
Stay Strong (My Little Angel)
I'm here with you by yourside,

You looked for love in the wrong places,
and found out the one that you loved,
wasn't the person he said he was,
he hurt you so badly,

it makes me so mad,
and makes me a person I don't want to be,
I want to be the man you can count on,
I want to be the man that gives you hope,
the man that you know that really loves you,
just stay strong for me,

I love you Cassandra,
and that love will only stop on the day I die,
and until than I'll keep on loving you,
I'll keep on holding you close to me as you cry,

Chorus: Stay Strong (My Little Angel)
I'm here with you by yourside,
Stay Strong (My Little Angel)
I'm here with you by yourside,
Stay Strong (My Little Angel)
I'm here with you by yourside,

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For The First Time"

Intro
I can't explain why I'm feeling for you so bad
Let's do this
For the first time

Verse 1
It's funny that it seems like yesterday
When we first met up on the stairway
You were so fly... you made me shy away
But unfortunately I pretended that I could not stay
And now

Midverse
I don't know what's just come over me but suddenly
I've got the urge to feel your body soakin' wet right next to me
I can't explain why I'm feeling for you so bad but maybe we'll find out
Tonight for the first time

Hook
For the first time

Verse2
So now you're here but I don't know what to do
'Cause it's been so long since we

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Wait For The Healing

One had vision
One came bringing its doom
One saw napalm
One heard the man in the moon
We were children of promise
We were heirs to their dreams
Tell me, why then is the hand slow
And the dog bites, well, I dont know
But the sky will fall
And heads will roll
And its all that we can do
To wait for the healing
Hungry hearted reason coming of age
Running headlong into the the latest rage
Always reaching within us
Claiming the answers are there
Tell me, why then is the hand slow
And the dog bites, well, I dont know
But the sky will fall
And heads will roll
And its all that we can do
To wait for the healing
For to carry on
For to stand when all is said and done
In the shadow of the rising sun
Longing, waiting for the healing
We are children of promise
We are heirs to their dreams
Tell me, why then is the hand slow
And the dog bites, well, I dont know
But the sky will fall
And heads will roll
And its all that we can do
To wait for the healing
For to carry on
For to stand when all is said and done
In the shadow of the rising sun
Longing, waiting for the healing

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Splatters of Regained Hope

A rainbow fell down today
crashed into a million pieces
of rainbow light
and no one noticed.

There was Hope being
mugged quietly
but it was ok
because there was no scene;
so no one noticed
and that made it ok.

I am sure that all saw
Desperation Eyes
staring;

but you know
only so much of this can be taken;
after a while
it is not real
only a movie
on the TV screen.

Child Dreams
were checked out
of the Library
and marched
straight to the
Lost and Found
to Dream Orphanages.

Even the Black Crepe
we hang
cries.

So much there is to do
so much
to be done
to end the suffering:

might as well start at home.

I am committed this year
to Rain-Bow Repair.
I'll fix the Rainbow Pieces
making them into Stained Glass
and sell them everywhere
use the proceeds for
Hope victims who are wise
and can counsel others
to stay away from those
who mug our hopes
in alley-ways.

Desperate Eyes
can spot other
Desperate Eyes;
act as guides
back to Innocence.

I'll turn off the TV set
and go into my community
and deal with real people.

I know where the Orphanages are
and I know what to do.

I need to lighten up
my Black Crepe
maybe
with some Rainbow Colors:

Splatters of
Reclaimed Hope.

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Workin' For The Man

Workin' For The Man
Roy Orbison
Hey now you better listen to me everyone of you
We got a lotta lotta lotta lotta work to do
Forget about your woman and that water can
Today were working for the man
well pick up your feet
we've got a deadline to meet
I'm gonna see you make it on time
Don't relax
I want elbows and backs
I wanna see everybody from behind
'Cause your working for the man working for the man
you gotta make him a hand when you're working for the man
Oh well I'm pickin' 'em up and I'm laying 'em down
I believe he's gonna work me into the ground
I pull to the left I heave to the right
I wanna kill him but it wouldn't be right
'Cause I,m working for the man working for the man
gotta make him a hand when you're working for the man
Well the boss man's daughter sneaks me water
everytime her daddy's down the line
she says meet me tonight love a me right
and everything is gonna be fine
So I slave all day without much pay
'cause I'm just abiding my time
'cause the company and the daughter you see
Their both gonna be all mine
Yah I'm gonna be the man gonna be the man
Gotta make him a hand if I'm gonna be the man
working for the man working for the man
gonna be the man gonna be the man
Gotta make him a hand working for the man
From: Deise (Julio C Pereira
)

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Up For The Challenge

Up for the challenge,
And wearing brand new boots.
Up for the challenge.
I've got something to prove!
If I win or lose.

Depictions make no sense.
Whether intended,
Or made by accident.

Up for the challenge,
And wearing brand new boots.
Up for the challenge.
I've got something to prove!
If I win or lose.

Someone others thought a fool,
Maybe one who someday rules!

Some have no purpose but to fly at night like bats.
Some have no purpose but to chitter chat in packs.
Some have no purpose but to stir up tit for tats...
And,
Be petty like that.
'Cause...
That is where their minds are at!

Up for the challenge.
And I know that I can manage it!

Up for the challenge,
And wearing brand new boots.
Up for the challenge,
'Cause I've got something to prove.

Depictions make no sense.
Whether intended,
Or made by accident.
But I admit I get incensed,
When no one but me pays my rent!

'Oh? '

No 'Oh'.

Some have no purpose but to fly at night like bats.
And...
Some have no purpose but to chitter chat in packs.
And...
Some have no purpose but to stir up tit for tats.
And...
Be petty like that,
'Cause...
That is where their minds are at!

Up for the challenge.
And I know that I can manage it!

'Oh? '

Up for the challenge.
And I know that I can manage it.
Up for the challenge,
And no doubts are taking space up...
In my mind!

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I Met Death

I was waiting, watching one day
When Death came along, looking
As if there was something he wanted to say

His hair was as black as the sky at night
And in the wind it blew like smoke
He had come a long way in his worn black cloak

So I invited him in and I did say
If you’d like to you can stay
But Death said:

I’m only passing through
For the clock’s hands they say
They are ticking the seconds of my life away”

And I answered,
Thinking I’d misunderstood
As Death’s dark black eye gleamed under his dark black hood

“If your Death, how can you die? ”
You see, Death didn’t seem the kind to lie.

And Death wasn’t phased at all,

“No longer Death I may become,
Or so says He if I don’t complete
The most horrible, horrible, feat.

The most horrible feat? ”
I had to say
Could it be so horrible,
That Death couldn’t say?

“Death, ” said Death, “is the horrible feat.”
And then he faded away, like smoke into the blue, blue sky
But I think, before he left, I might have seen him cry.

I had never in my life, seen Death again
Until the night I stood outside in the rain
When he said, “I’m sorry miss, but this is good bye.”
And I found out what it’s like to die.

So we went, and parted, to each our own way,
But one more time I want to heard Death say, “I’m sorry miss, -“
Marking the end of the day

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The Only One

Let me tell you now
All thats on my mind.
For a love like yours.
Is oh, so very hard to find.
Ive looked inside myself.
Now Im very sure.
There can only be, you for me.
I need you more and more....
(chorus)
You, turned me inside out and you showed me.
What life was about.
Only you, the only one that stole my heart away.
I wanna do all I can, just to show you.
Make you understand.
Only you, the only one that stole my heart away.
When youre in my arms.
When Im close to you.
Theres a magic in your touch.
That just comes shining through.
Want you everyday.
Want you every night.
There can only be, you for me.
You make it seem so right.
Oh, girl, cause.....
(chorus)
You, turned me inside out and you showed me.
What life was about.
Only you, the only one that stole my heart away.
In my mind, theres no other love.
Youre the only girl my heart and soul is thinking of.
Only you, only me.
There can never ever be another.
That understands the way that I feel inside,
Cause....
(chorus)
You,turned me inside out and you showed me.
What life was about.
Only you, the only one that stole my heart away.
Yeah, you, turned me inside out and you showed me
What life was about.
Only you, the only one that stole my heart away.
(you stole my heart away)
You stole it. (you stole my heart away)
Only you, the only one that stole my heart away.
Yeah you, (you stole my heart away)
Oh you stole it, ( you stole my heart away)
Only you, the only one that stole my heart away.
You stole my heart away.
Stole it, (you stole my heart away)
Only you baby, the only one that stole my heart away.

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Waiting For The Sunrise

Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
So I can take your hand and stroll about.
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
So we can go on the streets and see the people smile.
Give me your hand,
So I could tell you that things will be alright.
The rooms still dark,
But it wont be so long,
And I can take you outside.
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
So we can go to the park and roll about.
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
So we can go to the docks and watch the boats go by.
Come on, love, give me your hand,
And things will be alright.
The rooms still cold,
But it wont be so long,
That we can go outside.
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
So I could see your hair shining in the air.
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
So I can see the sky reflected in your eyes.
Come on, love, dont be depressed,
Things will be alright.
The rooms too low,
But it wont be so long,
That we can be outside.
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise.

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Many Beliefs, But One Way

Many beliefs have been touted to be, alternate pathways to Eternity,
For since He is a God of Love, there’s many ways to Heaven above.
Saying a loving God wouldn’t send, anyone into Hell my dear friend.
Saying every man from every place, will in Heaven see God’s Face.

Friend, some dear folk even say, living a good life is one sure way,
Why others believe their religiosity, will pave their way into eternity.
One thing all these people know, is Heaven’s where they want to go,
But knowing where they want to be, won’t assure Heaven in eternity.

Many profess to believe in God, while saying it with a confident nod.
One Truth they do not embrace, is the Saving Work of God’s Grace.
Where do you find God’s Saving Grace, it is found in just one place,
And that one place is the Cross, where the Lamb died for all the lost.

Some grow up having understood, to get to Heaven we must be good.
What about the thief next to Christ, that same day he was in Paradise,
Not because he lived a good life; it was because he believed in Christ.
His evil life put him on that tree; his belief in Christ gained him eternity.

It is God’s Truth men must believe, and God’s Son they must receive.
Men may not know God’s only Son, the Lamb who died for everyone.
Christ died that day for you and me, so all men need to do is believe.
The moment you accept Him friend, Heaven not Hell will be your end.

A good life won’t give one certainty, like The Lord gives to you and me.
Good works point to men not Christ, for securing for them Eternal Life.
Christ not I, bore all of God’s wrath, to pave for me God’s Eternal path.
It’s not a good life that sets us free, but belief in the One from Calvary.

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The Old-Home Folks

Such was the Child-World of the long-ago--
The little world these children used to know:--
Johnty, the oldest, and the best, perhaps,
Of the five happy little Hoosier chaps
Inhabiting this wee world all their own.--
Johnty, the leader, with his native tone
Of grave command--a general on parade
Whose each punctilious order was obeyed
By his proud followers.

But Johnty yet--
After all serious duties--could forget
The gravity of life to the extent,
At times, of kindling much astonishment
About him: With a quick, observant eye,
And mind and memory, he could supply
The tamest incident with liveliest mirth;
And at the most unlooked-for times on earth
Was wont to break into some travesty
On those around him--feats of mimicry
Of this one's trick of gesture--that one's walk--
Or this one's laugh--or that one's funny talk,--
The way 'the watermelon-man' would try
His humor on town-folks that wouldn't buy;--
How he drove into town at morning--then
At dusk (alas!) how he drove out again.

Though these divertisements of Johnty's were
Hailed with a hearty glee and relish, there
Appeared a sense, on his part, of regret--
A spirit of remorse that would not let
Him rest for days thereafter.--Such times he,
As some boy said, 'jist got too overly
Blame good fer common boys like us, you know,
To '_so_ciate with--less'n we 'ud go
And jine his church!'

Next after Johnty came
His little tow-head brother, Bud by name.--
And O how white his hair was--and how thick
His face with freckles,--and his ears, how quick
And curious and intrusive!--And how pale
The blue of his big eyes;--and how a tale
Of Giants, Trolls or Fairies, bulged them still
Bigger and bigger!--and when 'Jack' would kill
The old 'Four-headed Giant,' Bud's big eyes
Were swollen truly into giant-size.
And Bud was apt in make-believes--would hear
His Grandma talk or read, with such an ear
And memory of both subject and big words,
That he would take the book up afterwards
And feign to 'read aloud,' with such success
As caused his truthful elders real distress.
But he _must_ have _big words_--they seemed to give
Extremer range to the superlative--
That was his passion. 'My Gran'ma,' he said,
One evening, after listening as she read
Some heavy old historical review--
With copious explanations thereunto
Drawn out by his inquiring turn of mind,--
'My Gran'ma she's read _all_ books--ever' kind
They is, 'at tells all 'bout the land an' sea
An' Nations of the Earth!--An' she is the
Historicul-est woman ever wuz!'
(Forgive the verse's chuckling as it does
In its erratic current.--Oftentimes
The little willowy waterbrook of rhymes
Must falter in its music, listening to
The children laughing as they used to do.)

Who shall sing a simple ditty all about the Willow,
Dainty-fine and delicate as any bending spray
That dandles high the happy bird that flutters there to trill a
Tremulously tender song of greeting to the May.

Ah, my lovely Willow!--Let the Waters lilt your graces,--
They alone with limpid kisses lave your leaves above,
Flashing back your sylvan beauty, and in shady places
Peering up with glimmering pebbles, like the eyes of love.

Next, Maymie, with her hazy cloud of hair,
And the blue skies of eyes beneath it there.
Her dignified and 'little lady' airs
Of never either romping up the stairs
Or falling down them; thoughtful everyway
Of others first--The kind of child at play
That 'gave up,' for the rest, the ripest pear
Or peach or apple in the garden there
Beneath the trees where swooped the airy swing--
She pushing it, too glad for anything!
Or, in the character of hostess, she
Would entertain her friends delightfully
In her play-house,--with strips of carpet laid
Along the garden-fence within the shade
Of the old apple-trees--where from next yard
Came the two dearest friends in her regard,
The little Crawford girls, Ella and Lu--
As shy and lovely as the lilies grew
In their idyllic home,--yet sometimes they
Admitted Bud and Alex to their play,
Who did their heavier work and helped them fix
To have a 'Festibul'--and brought the bricks
And built the 'stove,' with a real fire and all,
And stovepipe-joint for chimney, looming tall
And wonderfully smoky--even to
Their childish aspirations, as it blew
And swooped and swirled about them till their sight
Was feverish even as their high delight.
Then Alex, with his freckles, and his freaks
Of temper, and the peach-bloom of his cheeks,
And '_amber-colored_ hair'--his mother said
'Twas that, when others laughed and called it '_red_'
And Alex threw things at them--till they'd call
A truce, agreeing ''t'uz n't red _ut-tall_!'

But Alex was affectionate beyond
The average child, and was extremely fond
Of the paternal relatives of his
Of whom he once made estimate like this:--
'_I'm_ only got _two_ brothers,--but my _Pa_
He's got most brothers'n you ever saw!--
He's got _seben_ brothers!--Yes, an' they're all my
Seben Uncles!--Uncle John, an' Jim,--an' I'
Got Uncle George, an' Uncle Andy, too,
An' Uncle Frank, an' Uncle Joe.--An' you
_Know_ Uncle _Mart_.--An', all but _him_, they're great
Big mens!--An' nen s Aunt Sarah--she makes eight!--
I'm got _eight_ uncles!--'cept Aunt Sarah _can't_
Be ist my _uncle_ 'cause she's ist my _aunt_!'

Then, next to Alex--and the last indeed
Of these five little ones of whom you read--
Was baby Lizzie, with her velvet lisp,--
As though her Elfin lips had caught some wisp
Of floss between them as they strove with speech,
Which ever seemed just in yet out of reach--
Though what her lips missed, her dark eyes could say
With looks that made her meaning clear as day.

And, knowing now the children, you must know
The father and the mother they loved so:--
The father was a swarthy man, black-eyed,
Black-haired, and high of forehead; and, beside
The slender little mother, seemed in truth
A very king of men--since, from his youth,
To his hale manhood _now_--(worthy as then,--
A lawyer and a leading citizen
Of the proud little town and county-seat--
His hopes his neighbors', and their fealty sweet)--
He had known outdoor labor--rain and shine--
Bleak Winter, and bland Summer--foul and fine.
So Nature had ennobled him and set
Her symbol on him like a coronet:
His lifted brow, and frank, reliant face.--
Superior of stature as of grace,
Even the children by the spell were wrought
Up to heroics of their simple thought,
And saw him, trim of build, and lithe and straight
And tall, almost, as at the pasture-gate
The towering ironweed the scythe had spared
For their sakes, when The Hired Man declared
It would grow on till it became a _tree_,
With cocoanuts and monkeys in--maybe!

Yet, though the children, in their pride and awe
And admiration of the father, saw
A being so exalted--even more
Like adoration was the love they bore
The gentle mother.--Her mild, plaintive face
Was purely fair, and haloed with a grace
And sweetness luminous when joy made glad
Her features with a smile; or saintly sad
As twilight, fell the sympathetic gloom
Of any childish grief, or as a room
Were darkened suddenly, the curtain drawn
Across the window and the sunshine gone.
Her brow, below her fair hair's glimmering strands,
Seemed meetest resting-place for blessing hands
Or holiest touches of soft finger-tips
And little roseleaf-cheeks and dewy lips.

Though heavy household tasks were pitiless,
No little waist or coat or checkered dress
But knew her needle's deftness; and no skill
Matched hers in shaping pleat or flounce or frill;
Or fashioning, in complicate design,
All rich embroideries of leaf and vine,
With tiniest twining tendril,--bud and bloom
And fruit, so like, one's fancy caught perfume
And dainty touch and taste of them, to see
Their semblance wrought in such rare verity.

Shrined in her sanctity of home and love,
And love's fond service and reward thereof,
Restore her thus, O blessed Memory!--
Throned in her rocking-chair, and on her knee
Her sewing--her workbasket on the floor
Beside her,--Springtime through the open door
Balmily stealing in and all about
The room; the bees' dim hum, and the far shout
And laughter of the children at their play,
And neighbor-children from across the way
Calling in gleeful challenge--save alone
One boy whose voice sends back no answering tone--
The boy, prone on the floor, above a book
Of pictures, with a rapt, ecstatic look--
Even as the mother's, by the selfsame spell,
Is lifted, with a light ineffable--
As though her senses caught no mortal cry,
But heard, instead, some poem going by.

The Child-heart is so strange a little thing--
So mild--so timorously shy and small.--
When _grown-up_ hearts throb, it goes scampering
Behind the wall, nor dares peer out at all!--
It is the veriest mouse
That hides in any house--
So wild a little thing is any Child-heart!

_Child-heart!--mild heart!--
Ho, my little wild heart!--
Come up here to me out o' the dark,
Or let me come to you!_

So lorn at times the Child-heart needs must be.
With never one maturer heart for friend
And comrade, whose tear-ripened sympathy
And love might lend it comfort to the end,--
Whose yearnings, aches and stings.
Over poor little things
Were pitiful as ever any Child-heart.

_Child-heart!--mild heart!--
Ho, my little wild heart!--
Come up here to me out o' the dark,
Or let me come to you!_

Times, too, the little Child-heart must be glad--
Being so young, nor knowing, as _we_ know.
The fact from fantasy, the good from bad,
The joy from woe, the--_all_ that hurts us so!
What wonder then that thus
It hides away from us?--
So weak a little thing is any Child-heart!

_Child-heart!--mild heart!--
Ho, my little wild heart!--
Come up here to me out o' the dark,
Or let me come to you!_

Nay, little Child-heart, you have never need
To fear _us_,--we are weaker far than you--
Tis _we_ who should be fearful--we indeed
Should hide us, too, as darkly as you do,--
Safe, as yourself, withdrawn,
Hearing the World roar on
Too willful, woful, awful for the Child-heart!

_Child-heart!--mild heart!--
Ho, my little wild heart!--
Come up here to me out o' the dark,
Or let me come to you!_

The clock chats on confidingly; a rose
Taps at the window, as the sunlight throws
A brilliant, jostling checkerwork of shine
And shadow, like a Persian-loom design,
Across the homemade carpet--fades,--and then
The dear old colors are themselves again.
Sounds drop in visiting from everywhere--
The bluebird's and the robin's trill are there,
Their sweet liquidity diluted some
By dewy orchard spaces they have come:
Sounds of the town, too, and the great highway--
The Mover-wagons' rumble, and the neigh
Of overtraveled horses, and the bleat
Of sheep and low of cattle through the street--
A Nation's thoroughfare of hopes and fears,
First blazed by the heroic pioneers
Who gave up old-home idols and set face
Toward the unbroken West, to found a race
And tame a wilderness now mightier than
All peoples and all tracts American.
Blent with all outer sounds, the sounds within:--
In mild remoteness falls the household din
Of porch and kitchen: the dull jar and thump
Of churning; and the 'glung-glung' of the pump,
With sudden pad and skurry of bare feet
Of little outlaws, in from field or street:
The clang of kettle,--rasp of damper-ring
And bang of cookstove-door--and everything
That jingles in a busy kitchen lifts
Its individual wrangling voice and drifts
In sweetest tinny, coppery, pewtery tone
Of music hungry ear has ever known
In wildest famished yearning and conceit
Of youth, to just cut loose and eat and eat!--
The zest of hunger still incited on
To childish desperation by long-drawn
Breaths of hot, steaming, wholesome things that stew
And blubber, and up-tilt the pot-lids, too,
Filling the sense with zestful rumors of
The dear old-fashioned dinners children love:
Redolent savorings of home-cured meats,
Potatoes, beans, and cabbage; turnips, beets
And parsnips--rarest composite entire
That ever pushed a mortal child's desire
To madness by new-grated fresh, keen, sharp
Horseradish--tang that sets the lips awarp
And watery, anticipating all
The cloyed sweets of the glorious festival.--
Still add the cinnamony, spicy scents
Of clove, nutmeg, and myriad condiments
In like-alluring whiffs that prophesy
Of sweltering pudding, cake, and custard pie--
The swooning-sweet aroma haunting all
The house--upstairs and down--porch, parlor, hall
And sitting-room--invading even where
The Hired Man sniffs it in the orchard-air,
And pauses in his pruning of the trees
To note the sun minutely and to--sneeze.

Then Cousin Rufus comes--the children hear
His hale voice in the old hall, ringing clear
As any bell. Always he came with song
Upon his lips and all the happy throng
Of echoes following him, even as the crowd
Of his admiring little kinsmen--proud
To have a cousin _grown_--and yet as young
Of soul and cheery as the songs he sung.

He was a student of the law--intent
Soundly to win success, with all it meant;
And so he studied--even as he played,--
With all his heart: And so it was he made
His gallant fight for fortune--through all stress
Of battle bearing him with cheeriness
And wholesome valor.

And the children had
Another relative who kept them glad
And joyous by his very merry ways--
As blithe and sunny as the summer days,--
Their father's youngest brother--Uncle Mart.
The old 'Arabian Nights' he knew by heart--
'Baron Munchausen,' too; and likewise 'The
Swiss Family Robinson.'--And when these three
Gave out, as he rehearsed them, he could go
Straight on in the same line--a steady flow
Of arabesque invention that his good
Old mother never clearly understood.
He _was_ to be a _printer_--wanted, though,
To be an _actor_.--But the world was 'show'
Enough for _him_,--theatric, airy, gay,--
Each day to him was jolly as a play.
And some poetic symptoms, too, in sooth,
Were certain.--And, from his apprentice youth,
He joyed in verse-quotations--which he took
Out of the old 'Type Foundry Specimen Book.'
He craved and courted most the favor of
The children.--They were foremost in his love;
And pleasing _them_, he pleased his own boy-heart
And kept it young and fresh in every part.
So was it he devised for them and wrought
To life his quaintest, most romantic thought:--
Like some lone castaway in alien seas,
He built a house up in the apple-trees,
Out in the corner of the garden, where
No man-devouring native, prowling there,
Might pounce upon them in the dead o' night--
For lo, their little ladder, slim and light,
They drew up after them. And it was known
That Uncle Mart slipped up sometimes alone
And drew the ladder in, to lie and moon
Over some novel all the afternoon.
And one time Johnty, from the crowd below,--
Outraged to find themselves deserted so--
Threw bodily their old black cat up in
The airy fastness, with much yowl and din.
Resulting, while a wild periphery
Of cat went circling to another tree,
And, in impassioned outburst, Uncle Mart
Loomed up, and thus relieved his tragic heart:

''_Hence, long-tailed, ebon-eyed, nocturnal ranger!
What led thee hither 'mongst the types and cases?
Didst thou not know that running midnight races
O'er standing types was fraught with imminent danger?
Did hunger lead thee--didst thou think to find
Some rich old cheese to fill thy hungry maw?
Vain hope! for none but literary jaw
Can masticate our cookery for the mind!_''

So likewise when, with lordly air and grace,
He strode to dinner, with a tragic face
With ink-spots on it from the office, he
Would aptly quote more 'Specimen-poetry--'
Perchance like ''Labor's bread is sweet to eat,
(_Ahem!_) And toothsome is the toiler's meat.''

Ah, could you see them _all_, at lull of noon!--
A sort of _boisterous_ lull, with clink of spoon
And clatter of deflecting knife, and plate
Dropped saggingly, with its all-bounteous weight,
And dragged in place voraciously; and then
Pent exclamations, and the lull again.--
The garland of glad faces 'round the board--
Each member of the family restored
To his or her place, with an extra chair
Or two for the chance guests so often there.--
The father's farmer-client, brought home from
The courtroom, though he 'didn't _want_ to come
Tel he jist saw he _hat_ to!' he'd explain,
Invariably, time and time again,
To the pleased wife and hostess, as she pressed
Another cup of coffee on the guest.--
Or there was Johnty's special chum, perchance,
Or Bud's, or both--each childish countenance
Lit with a higher glow of youthful glee,
To be together thus unbrokenly,--
Jim Offutt, or Eck Skinner, or George Carr--
The very nearest chums of Bud's these are,--
So, very probably, _one_ of the three,
At least, is there with Bud, or _ought_ to be.
Like interchange the town-boys each had known--
His playmate's dinner better than his own--
_Yet_ blest that he was ever made to stay
At _Almon Keefer's, any_ blessed day,
For _any_ meal!... Visions of biscuits, hot
And flaky-perfect, with the golden blot
Of molten butter for the center, clear,
Through pools of clover-honey--_dear-o-dear!_--
With creamy milk for its divine 'farewell':
And then, if any one delectable
Might yet exceed in sweetness, O restore
The cherry-cobbler of the days of yore
Made only by Al Keefer's mother!--Why,
The very thought of it ignites the eye
Of memory with rapture--cloys the lip
Of longing, till it seems to ooze and drip
With veriest juice and stain and overwaste
Of that most sweet delirium of taste
That ever visited the childish tongue,
Or proved, as now, the sweetest thing unsung.

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We can't have a failure in Iraq, but we also can't be there for the next 10 years because if we are, it's going to become, I think, a failure in and of itself.

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Eddie Murphy

The economy in Ireland has been rampaging ahead for the last 15 years. Barring an international, political or natural catastrophe, things can only get better for the Irish.

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For The Next Day

I am always with words and i do love you,
But, i still have to wait for the next day on this love.

In my lifetime,
I have now come to meet you!
But, i am still have to wait for the next day.

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Ideals are not something I can control. It's not logic that convinces me of something, it's what my heart says. My heart has a way of involving me in things, which can only be good for the music.

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