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But there's nothing that gives me more thrill than when I'm writing and a couplet works. I find the right rhyme, or it's just perfect. There's nothing that exciting.

quote by Rosanne Cash
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Perfect Drug

The perfect drug
I got my head, but my head is unraveling
Cant keep control, cant keep track of where its traveling
I got my heart but my heart is no good
And youre the only one thats understood
I come along but I dont know where youre taking me
I shouldnt go but youre reaching back and shaking me
Turn off the sun, pull the stars from the sky
The more I give to you, the more I die
And I want you
And I want you
And I want you
And I want you
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You make me hard, when Im all soft inside
I see the truth, when Im all stupid eyed
The arrow goes straight through my heart
Without you everything just falls apart
My blood wants to say hello to you
My feelings want to get inside of you
My soul is so afraid to realize
Every little word is a lack of me
And I want you
And I want you
And I want you
And I want you
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
(whispering)
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the perfect drug, the perfect drug
You are the perfect drug, the drug, the perfect drug
Take me, with you
Take me, with you
Take me, with you
(continues in backround)
Without you, without you everything falls apart
Without you, its not as much fun to pick up the pieces
Without you, without you everything falls apart
Without you, its not as much fun to pick up the pieces
Its not as much fun to pick up the pieces
Its not as much fun to pick up the pieces
Without you, without you everything falls apart
Without you, its not as much fun to pick up the pieces

song performed by Nine Inch Nails
Added by Lucian Velea
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Truth and the Devil

The devil unstoppably took pride in salaciously writing; the book of
obnoxious caste-creed and venomously penalizing hatred,

The devil unstoppably took pride in acrimoniously writing; the book of
indiscriminate bloodshed and disastrously traumatizing ruthlessness,

The devil unstoppably took pride in vengefully writing; the book of
tyrannical devastation and lecherously bellicose orphaning,

The devil unstoppably took pride in fretfully writing; the book of
vindictive war and satanically criminal holocausts,

The devil unstoppably took pride in maliciously writing; the book of
coldblooded barbarism and manipulatively bizarre malice,

The devil unstoppably took pride in forlornly writing; the book of
worthless
ghosts and mortuaries brutally anointed with fresh blood,

T The devil unstoppably took pride in indigently writing; the book of
nonchalant spuriousness and fecklessly insipid meaninglessness,

The devil unstoppably took pride in torturously writing; the book of
ominous
animosity and hedonistically pugnacious illwill,

The devil unstoppably took pride in dictatorially writing; the book of
licentious bawdiness and insanely threadbare nothingness,

The devil unstoppably took pride in heinously writing; the book of
lascivious poverty and baselessly crippling uncertainty,

The devil unstoppably took pride in savagely writing; the book of
despicable
defeat and lethally ballistic atrociousness,

The devil unstoppably took pride in raunchily writing; the book of
dolorous
delinquency and insidiously slandering betrayal,

The devil unstoppably took pride in preposterously writing; the book of
scurrilous lunatism and barbarously incarcerating fiendishness,

The devil unstoppably took pride in frigidly writing; the book of
jejune
mockery and impudently castigating brazenness,

The devil unstoppably took pride in heartlessly writing; the book of
ghastly
bloodshed and indefatigably bombarding politics,

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Green Couplets 01 Lucid Cute Verse

The word ‘couplet' derives from the word ‘couple'— means one pair of anything. A couplet is the shortest and simplest form or type of poetry with a certain idea. It generally consists of single stanza of two lines of rhyming poetry that usually has the same meter. There is no hard and fast rule about length or rhythm.

As the shortest form of poetry couplets are green and attractive those proclaim Poems for Life.

Couplet— I
Orchid flower on the pot
Rainy summer not so hot

Couplet— II
Online romance chat is the key
Late night knows the honey-bee

Couplet— III
Moonbeam dropping dazzling night
Knocking the doors memories right.

Couplet— IV
Filipino cat in the dream
Crossing Ocean alone swims!

Couplet— V
Two leaves and a bud green leaf tea
Exploiting labors can we see?

Ashraful Musaddeq

poem by Ashraful Musaddeq
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Tale XXI

The Learned Boy

An honest man was Farmer Jones, and true;
He did by all as all by him should do;
Grave, cautious, careful, fond of gain was he,
Yet famed for rustic hospitality:
Left with his children in a widow'd state,
The quiet man submitted to his fate;
Though prudent matrons waited for his call,
With cool forbearance he avoided all;
Though each profess'd a pure maternal joy,
By kind attention to his feeble boy;
And though a friendly Widow knew no rest,
Whilst neighbour Jones was lonely and distress'd;
Nay, though the maidens spoke in tender tone
Their hearts' concern to see him left alone,
Jones still persisted in that cheerless life,
As if 'twere sin to take a second wife.
Oh! 'tis a precious thing, when wives are dead,
To find such numbers who will serve instead;
And in whatever state a man be thrown,
'Tis that precisely they would wish their own;
Left the departed infants--then their joy
Is to sustain each lovely girl and boy:
Whatever calling his, whatever trade,
To that their chief attention has been paid;
His happy taste in all things they approve,
His friends they honour, and his food they love;
His wish for order, prudence in affairs,
An equal temper (thank their stars!), are theirs;
In fact, it seem'd to be a thing decreed,
And fix'd as fate, that marriage must succeed:
Yet some, like Jones, with stubborn hearts and

hard,
Can hear such claims and show them no regard.
Soon as our Farmer, like a general, found
By what strong foes he was encompass'd round,
Engage he dared not, and he could not fly,
But saw his hope in gentle parley lie;
With looks of kindness then, and trembling heart,
He met the foe, and art opposed to art.
Now spoke that foe insidious--gentle tones,
And gentle looks, assumed for Farmer Jones:
'Three girls,' the Widow cried, 'a lively three
To govern well--indeed it cannot be.'
'Yes,' he replied, 'it calls for pains and care:
But I must bear it.'--'Sir, you cannot bear;
Your son is weak, and asks a mother's eye:'
'That, my kind friend, a father's may supply.'

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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Your Perfect Little Girl...

Your perfect little girl dropped a grade on her report card.
Your perfect little girl yelled at you last night.
Your perfect little girl painted her nails black.
Your perfect little girl lied to you all her life.
Your perfect little girl cries herself to sleep.
Your perfect little girl slits her wrists till she bleeds.
Your perfect little girl hates you.
Your perfect little girl hates herself.
Your perfect little girl has given up on life.
Your perfect little girl had a tantrum today.
Your perfect little girl has her head in the toilet after dinner.
Your perfect little girl wants to run away.
Your perfect little girl hasn't let you dry her tears.
Your perfect little girl disobeyed you.
Your perfect little girl hates the world.
Your perfect little girl is hated by the world.
Your perfect little girl is very unhappy.
Your perfect little girl tried to commit suicide.
Your perfect little girl became a disgrace.
Your perfect little girl keeps alot of secrets.
Your perfect little girl deals with everything on her own
Your perfect little girl had to grow up too fast.
Your perfect little girl is on the edge of breakdown.
Your perfect little girl just isn't so perfect anymore.

poem by Gabriela Valoy
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English Bards and Scotch Reviewers: A Satire

'I had rather be a kitten, and cry mew!
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers'~Shakespeare

'Such shameless bards we have; and yet 'tis true,
There are as mad, abandon'd critics too,'~Pope.

Still must I hear? -- shall hoarse Fitzgerald bawl
His creaking couplets in a tavern hall,
And I not sing, lest, haply, Scotch reviews
Should dub me scribbler, and denounce my muse?
Prepare for rhyme -- I'll publish, right or wrong:
Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.

O nature's noblest gift -- my grey goose-quill!
Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will,
Torn from thy parent bird to form a pen,
That mighty instrument of little men!
The pen! foredoom'd to aid the mental throes
Of brains that labour, big with verse or prose,
Though nymphs forsake, and critics may deride,
The lover's solace, and the author's pride.
What wits, what poets dost thou daily raise!
How frequent is thy use, how small thy praise!
Condemn'd at length to be forgotten quite,
With all the pages which 'twas thine to write.
But thou, at least, mine own especial pen!
Once laid aside, but now assumed again,
Our task complete, like Hamet's shall be free;
Though spurn'd by others, yet beloved by me:
Then let us soar today, no common theme,
No eastern vision, no distemper'd dream
Inspires -- our path, though full of thorns, is plain;
Smooth be the verse, and easy be the strain.

When Vice triumphant holds her sov'reign sway,
Obey'd by all who nought beside obey;
When Folly, frequent harbinger of crime,
Bedecks her cap with bells of every clime;
When knaves and fools combined o'er all prevail,
And weigh their justice in a golden scale;
E'en then the boldest start from public sneers,
Afraid of shame, unknown to other fears,
More darkly sin, by satire kept in awe,
And shrink from ridicule, though not from law.

Such is the force of wit! but not belong
To me the arrows of satiric song;
The royal vices of our age demand
A keener weapon, and a mightier hand.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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Poppa Large

I get in shape and do my physical fitness
Your head's numb, so your brains a miss this
Pick 'em up, eat 'em up, pick 'em up, beat 'em up
Pick 'em up pimplehead, pick 'em up picky
I roll wit globs and i come real sticky
Ripping the mic, i plug it up in your ears
Crazed and brewer. i'm coming out like beers
Like rheingold, miller, coors, and buds
I'm a eat 'em wit popcorn and treat 'em like suds you duds
Coming out the wick wack, wicky, wickable wack
Black jack, that's a fact, writing exact behind your back
The funk rhyme to master, blaster
Kicking up in a brainstorm, rainstorm
Rap storm, rap form
Rap time, rap rhyme
Rap class, i'm here to fail and to pass
To continue, from the more, hype tip
I roll and rock, rock and roll
Jazz and pop, rhythm and blues
Dance and fusion, pain confusion
Look at the lights, what a night on the town
I'm poppa large, big shot on the east coast(4x)
Now i'm back to funk, freak the funk
Hype the funk, swipe the funk and all that junk
I get busy on 'em, communicate wit the world
Man, woman, a baby boy and a girl
Poppa large looking out the pawn shop
Taking stroud while your face and arms drop
Stop, look, learn to read, learn to write
Learn to talk, learn to walk
And watch your step though, i'm hype and ripe though
Kleptomaniac, my rhyme is psycho
A ricky ricardo, a guy lombardo
Sporting a ragtop, an el dorado
Step into hollywood, i'm screening the boulevards
The rhymes is gain type, i'm ready to pull it's card
Jack or ace, king or queen, call me the deuce
I'm pouring la juice
Hitting the top, feeling the rim
Getting a trim, i never rhyme like them
On and on, on and on, on and on
Until the break of dawn
I go overtime, rock the mic in nighttime
Daytime, switching off to primetime
Specifically, strolling back in the west time
Rock the funk wit the mic in the east rhyme
Hype and dope, hype the frame, the mic is smoking
Yo, i ain't joking
Rhyme to kill, rhyme to murder, rhyme to stomp
Rhyme to ill, rhyme to romp

[...] Read more

song performed by Ultramagnetic Mc's
Added by Lucian Velea
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When I wasn't breathing

When I wasn’t blissfully snoring; I was still inexhaustibly writing a
cistern of stupendously rhapsodic and gloriously majestic Immortal Love
Poetry,

When I wasn’t unsurpassably fantasizing; I was still inexhaustibly
writing a
garden of ingeniously magical and miraculously mitigating Immortal Love
Poetry,

When I wasn’t superbly adventuring; I was still inexhaustibly writing
an
ocean of bountifully resplendent and timelessly undefeated Immortal
Love
Poetry,

When I wasn’t scrumptiously relishing; I was still inexhaustibly
writing a
playground of optimistically enlightening and unbelievably royal
Immortal
Love Poetry,

When I wasn’t limitlessly triumphing; I was still inexhaustibly writing
a
cascade of beautifully panoramic and effulgently liberating Immortal
Love
Poetry,

When I wasn’t pricelessly smiling; I was still inexhaustibly writing a
lantern of unendingly vibrant and inscrutably tantalizing Immortal Love
Poetry,

When I wasn’t gloriously partying; I was still inexhaustibly writing a
paradise of eternally vivacious and pristinely redolent Immortal Love
Poetry,

When I wasn’t unassailably inspiring; I was still inexhaustibly writing
a
festoon of incredulously ameliorating and perpetually compassionate
Immortal
Love Poetry,

When I wasn’t magnanimously feasting; I was still inexhaustibly writing
a
cocoon of symbiotically philanthropic and ubiquitously coalescing
Immortal
Love Poetry,

When I wasn’t ebulliently fornicating; I was still inexhaustibly
writing a
mist of wonderfully reinvigorating and blessedly burgeoning Immortal

[...] Read more

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Shoot To Thrill

All you women who want a man of the street
But you dont know which way you wanna turn
Just keep a coming and put your hand out to me
cause Im the one whos gonna make you burn
Im gonna take you down - down, down, down
So dont you fool around
Im gonna pull it, pull it, pull the trigger
Shoot to thrill, play to kill
Too many women with too many pills
Shoot to thrill, play to kill
I got my gun at the ready, gonna fire at will
Yeah
Im like evil, I get under your skin
Just like a bomb thats ready to blow
cause Im illegal, I got everything
That all you women might need to know
Im gonna take you down - yeah, down, down, down
So dont you fool around
Im gonna pull it, pull it, pull the trigger
Shoot to thrill, play to kill
Too many women with too many pills
Shoot to thrill, play to kill
I got my gun at the ready, gonna fire at will
cause I shoot to thrill, and Im ready to kill
I cant get enough, I cant get the thrill
I shoot to thrill, play to kill
Yeah, pull the trigger
Pull it, pull it, pull it, pull the trigger
Oh
Shoot to thrill, play to kill
Too many women, with too many pills
I said, shoot to thrill, play to kill
I got my gun at the ready, gonna fire at will
cause I shoot to thrill, and Im ready to kill
And I cant get enough, and I cant get my thrill
cause I shoot to thrill, play it again
Yeah
Shoot you down
Yeah
Im gonna get you to the bottom and shoot you
Im gonna shoot you
Oh hoo yeah yeah yeah
Im gonna shoot you down yeah yeah
Im gonna get you down
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Shoot you, shoot you, shoot you, shoot you down
Shoot you, shoot you, shoot you down
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, ooooooh
Im gonna shoot to thrill
Play to kill

[...] Read more

song performed by AC-DC
Added by Lucian Velea
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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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She Works Hard For The Money

She works hard for the money
so hard for it honey
she works hard for the money
so you better treat her right

She works hard for the money
so hard for it honey
she works hard for the money
so you better treat her right

Onetta there in the corner stand
and wonders where she is and
it's strange to her
some people seem to have everything

Nine a.m. on the hour hand
and she's waiting for the bell
and she's looking real pretty
just wait for her clientele

She works hard for the money
so hard for it honey
she works hard for the money
so you better treat her right

She works hard for the money
so hard for it honey
she works hard for the money
so you better treat her right

Twenty five years have
come and gone
and she' seen a lot of tears
of the ones who come in
they really seem to need her there

It's a sacrifice working day to day
for little money just tips for pay
But it's worth it all
just to hear them say that they care

She works hard for the money
so hard for it honey
she works hard for the money
so you better treat her right

She already knows
she's seen her bad times
she already knows
these are the good times

[...] Read more

song performed by Donna Summer from The Donna Summer Anthology
Added by Lucian Velea
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I'm Not Perfect

I'm (x8)
Had we met at a different time we'd be perfect for each other,
Now were spending all our time, in this world come together,
My heart is aching, from all the love your giving,
Were not faking, is this the life were living?
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
Now i'm right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
I feel right on time,
More and more we are together, tryin to discover,
I see a flicker in your eye, are you lookin for somethin better?
You once told me lying on the ground, but keep goin up and down, yo!
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
Now i'm right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
I feel right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
Now i'm right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
I feel right on time,
Why waste it thinkin about it? taste it,
Don't waste it thinkin about it, taste it,
It really doesn't matter wherever i may go,
We're tied together, that's one thing we both know, yo!
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
Now i'm right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
I feel right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
Now i'm right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
I feel right on time,
Right on time, i feel on time tonight, i right on time, i feel right on time,
Right on time, i feel on time tonight, i right on time, i feel right on time,
Right on time, i feel on time tonight, i right on time, now i'm right on time,

song performed by Grace Jones
Added by Lucian Velea
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Thrill Me

Ok Im the one who took you for granted
Ive made my mistakes wake up lets not break up
Thrill me youve got a love so strong
Thrill me you really turn me on
Thrill me wait till tomorrow night
Thrill me Im gonna treat you right
You said that I would never let you be alone
How many times have you been on your own
Worked all the days to find the things you try to do
If only my heart would never let you through
Because you
Thrill me youve got a love so strong
Thrill me you just cant do me wrong
Thrill me wait till tomorrow night
Thrill me Im gonna treat you right
The truth is youve gone and left me on my own
How can I face the fact youre really gone
Love was a phase wed have to pray to make it true
If only my heart wouldve never let you through
Because you
Thrill me youve got a love so strong
Thrill me you really turn me on
Thrill me wait till tomorrow night
Thrill me Im gonna treat you right

song performed by Simply Red
Added by Lucian Velea
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An Essay on Criticism

Part I

INTRODUCTION. That it is as great a fault to judge ill as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to the public. That a true Taste is as rare to be found as a true Genius. That most men are born with some Taste, but spoiled by false education. The multitude of Critics, and causes of them. That we are to study our own Taste, and know the limits of it. Nature the best guide of judgment. Improved by Art and rules, which are but methodized Nature. Rules derived from the practice of the ancient poets. That therefore the ancients are necessary to be studied by a Critic, particularly Homer and Virgil. Of licenses, and the use of them by the ancients. Reverence due to the ancients, and praise of them.

'Tis hard to say if greater want of skill
Appear in writing or in judging ill;
But of the two less dangerous is th'offence
To tire our patience than mislead our sense:
Some few in that, but numbers err in this;
Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss;
A fool might once himself alone expose;
Now one in verse makes many more in prose.

'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none
Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
In Poets as true Genius is but rare,
True Taste as seldom is the Critic's share;
Both must alike from Heav'n derive their light,
These born to judge, as well as those to write.
Let such teach others who themselves excel,
And censure freely who have written well;
Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true,
But are not Critics to their judgment too?

Yet if we look more closely, we shall find
Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind:
Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light;
The lines, tho' touch'd but faintly, are drawn right:
But as the slightest sketch, if justly traced,
Is by ill col'ring but the more disgraced,
So by false learning is good sense defaced:
Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,
And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools:
In search of wit these lose their common sense,
And then turn Critics in their own defence:
Each burns alike, who can or cannot write,
Or with a rival's or an eunuch's spite.
All fools have still an itching to deride,
And fain would be upon the laughing side.
If Mævius scribble in Apollo's spite,
There are who judge still worse than he can write.

Some have at first for Wits, then Poets pass'd;
Turn'd Critics next, and prov'd plain Fools at last.
Some neither can for Wits nor Critics pass,
As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.
Those half-learn'd witlings, numerous in our isle,
As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;
Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call,

[...] Read more

poem by Alexander Pope
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Is That Asking Too Much

(donny lowery/craig wiseman)
Some people say theres no american dream
I hear them talking but they dont say a thing
I still believe youve got to give it to get
Baptize your every aspiration in sweat
I vow my head each night and roll up my sleeves
cause buddy its a long hard road to easy street
Where all the cars go
Fast, fast, fast
When you step on the gas, gas, gas
Nobody else is gonna pass me up going down the road
I want a great big house on the hill
Every pocket full of hundred dollar bills
Givin me a thrill, thrill, thrill I aint never known
Is that asking too much
Am I over the line
Am I way out of touch
Tell me am I losing my mind
I know I wont never get enough
Is that asking too much
Ive never been accused of dreaming too small
I never saw no shame in wanting it all
I guess thats just the curse of being born poor
No matter what you got you always want more
Everybody wants a lot, a little inside
Im not the only one with hungry eyes
That wants a car that goes
Fast, fast, fast
When you step on the gas, gas, gas
Nobody else is gonna pass me up going down the road
I want a great bid house on the hill
Every pocket full of hundred dollar bills
Man, givin me a thrill, thrill, thrill I aint never known
Is that asking too much
Am I over the line
Am I way out of touch
Tell me am I losing my mind
I know I wont never get enough
Is that asking too much
I just wanna go fast, fast, fast
When I step on the gas, gas, gas
Nobody else is gonna pass me up going down the road
I want a great big house on the hill
Every pocket full of hundred dollar bills
Man givin me a thrill, thrill, thrill I aint never known
When I step on the gas, gas, gas
You know I wanna go fast, fast, fast
Nobody better ever pass me up going down the road
I gotta build me a house on the hill
Every pocket full of hundred dollar bills

[...] Read more

song performed by Diamond Rio
Added by Lucian Velea
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Is That Askin' Too Much

(Donny Lowery/Craig Wiseman)
Some people say theres no American dream
I hear them talkin' but they dont say a thing
I still believe youve got to give it to get
Baptize your every aspiration in sweat
I vow my head each night and roll up my sleeves
Cause buddy its a long hard road to Easy Street
Where all the cars go
Fast, fast, fast
When you step on the gas, gas, gas
Nobody else is gonna pass me up going down the road
I want a great big house on the hill
Every pocket full of hundred dollar bills
Givin me a thrill, thrill, thrill I aint never known
Is that asking too much
Am I over the line
Am I way out of touch
Tell me am I losing my mind
I know I wont never get enough
Is that asking too much
Ive never been accused of dreaming too small
I never saw no shame in wanting it all
I guess thats just the curse of being born poor
No matter what you got you always want more
Everybody wants a lot, a little inside
Im not the only one with hungry eyes
That wants a car that goes
Fast, fast, fast
When you step on the gas, gas, gas
Nobody else is gonna pass me up going down the road
I want a great bid house on the hill
Every pocket full of hundred dollar bills
Man, givin me a thrill, thrill, thrill I aint never known
Is that asking too much
Am I over the line
Am I way out of touch
Tell me am I losing my mind
I know I wont never get enough
Is that asking too much
I just wanna go fast, fast, fast
When I step on the gas, gas, gas
Nobody else is gonna pass me up going down the road
I want a great big house on the hill
Every pocket full of hundred dollar bills
Man givin me a thrill, thrill, thrill I aint never known
When I step on the gas, gas, gas
You know I wanna go fast, fast, fast
Nobody better ever pass me up going down the road
I gotta build me a house on the hill
Every pocket full of hundred dollar bills

[...] Read more

song performed by Diamond Rio
Added by Lucian Velea
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Thrill Has Gone

Listening I hear your voice
Together you and I have nothing left to carry on
And Im seeing you slip away
Cause you never cared
You never even realised
Now the thrill has gone
Cause I can see it in your eyes
Now the thrill has gone
And it was you who threw it all away
Now the thrill has gone
Wondering as I look outside
Changes all around
Theres nothing left here to hide
And Im asking you have you lost your soul
Cause you never cared
You never even realised that I wasnt there
Now the thrill has gone
Cause I can see it in your eyes
Now the thrill has gone
And it was you who threw it all away
Now the thrill has gone
Say to me what I want to hear
Say to me what I want to hear
Cause you never cared
You never even realised that I wasnt there
Now the thrill has gone
Cause I can see it in your eyes
Now the thrill has gone
And it was you who threw it all away
Now the thrill has gone
Now the thrill has gone
Cause I can see it in your eyes
Now the thrill has gone
And it was you who threw it all away
Now the thrill has gone

song performed by Texas
Added by Lucian Velea
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Writing To

Writing to feel
Writing to heal
Writing to steal
Writing every emotion..
With such a white background.
It makes no sound
Even as the keys I pound.
Let my words have bite
Let from my words drip out meanings beyond meanings
Its something I try to be constantly be achieving.

Writing to feel
Writing to heal
Writing to steal
I want every heart and mind
Sucked in cause this is my world stage
No sense of the time.
Never to turn the page
Stuck in to a world oh so oh so fine

Writing to feel
Writing to heal
Writing to steal
Listen to her melody, as she sings.
Let chaos reign down from the skies
What will this day really bring?
Will the letter say good bye?
Will it mend everything?

Making everything better.
Destroying all the consequences
That exist in your world.
Welcome to the place I visit daily.
Inspirational maddness,
It attacks, attacks, and attacks.
With perfect sadness
I must let go once more.
And then the words hit the floor

Writing to feel
Writing to heal.
Writing to steal.
Becoming one with my soul.
Fighting for its one and only control.
Its mine, Its mine. Its mine.
In this reality it subsequently is not
A constant questioning of what?

Writing to feel
Writing to heal.

[...] Read more

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Added by Poetry Lover
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Na Tian Piet's Sha'er Of The Late Sultan Abu Bakar Of Johor

In the name of God, let his word begin:
Praise be to God, let praises clear ring;
May our Lord, Jesus Christ's[8] blessings
Guide my pen through these poetizings!

This sha'er is an entirely new composition
Composed by myself, no fear of imitation.
It's Allah's name, I will keep calling out
While creating this poem to avoid confusion.

This story I'm relating at the present moment
I copy not, nor is it by other hands wrought;
Nothing whatsoever is here laid out
That hereunder is not clearly put forth.

Not that I am able to create with much ease,
To all that's to come I'm yet not accustomed;
Why, this sha'er at this time is being composed
Only to console my heart which is heavily laden.

I'm a peranakan[9], of Chinese origin,
Hardly perfect in character and mind;
I find much that I can not comprehend,
I'm not a man given to much wisdom.

Na Tian Piet[10] is what I go by name
I have in the past composed stories and poems;
Even when explained to - most stupid I remain
The more I keep talking the less I understand.

I was born in times gone by
In the country known as Bencoolen[11];
Indeed, I am more than stupid:
Ashamed am I composing this lay.

Twenty-four years have gone by
Since I moved to the island of Singapore;
My wife and children accompanied me
To Singapore, a most lovely country.

I stayed in Riau[12] for some time
Together with my wife and children;
Two full years in Riau territory,
Back to Singapore my legs carried me.

At the time when Acheh[13] was waging war
I went there with goods to trade,
I managed to sell them at exhorbitant prices:
Great indeed were the profits I made.

[...] Read more

poem by T. Wignesan
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The Ghost - Book IV

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

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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