Like Scarlett O'Hara, I won't be broke again.
quote by Toni Braxton
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The Wake Of Tim O'Hara
TO the Wake of O’Hara
Came company;
All St. Patrick’s Alley
Was there to see,
With the friends and kinsmen
Of the family.
On the long deal table lay Tim in white,
And at his pillow the burning light.
Pale as himself, with the tears on her cheek,
The mother receiv’d us, too full to speak;
But she heap’d the fire, and on the board
Set the black bottle with never a word,
While the company gather’d, one and all,
Men and women, big and small:
Not one in the Alley but felt a call
To the Wake of Tim O’Hara.
At the face of O’Hara,
All white with sleep,
Not one of the women
But took a peep,
And the wives new-wedded
Began to weep.
The mothers gather’d round about,
And prais’d the linen and laying out,—
For white as snow was his winding-sheet,
And all was peaceful, and clean, and sweet;
And the old wives, praising the blessed dead,
Were thronging around the old press-bed,
Where O’Hara’s widow, tatter’d and torn,
Held to her bosom the babe newborn,
And star’d all around her, with eyes forlorn,
At the Wake of Tim O’Hara.
For the heart of O’Hara
Was good as gold,
And the life of O’Hara
Was bright and bold,
And his smile was precious
To young and old!
Gay as a guinea, wet or dry,
With a smiling mouth, and a twinkling eye!
Had ever an answer for chaff and fun;
Would fight like a lion, with any one!
Not a neighbor of any trade
But knew some joke that the boy had made;
Not a neighbor, dull or bright,
But minded something—frolic or fight,
And whisper’d it round the fire that night,
At the Wake of Tim O’Hara.
[...] Read more
poem by William Cosmo Monkhouse
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O'Hara, J.P.
James Patrick O'Hara the Justice of Peace,
He bossed the P.M. and he bossed the police;
A parent, a deacon, a landlord was he—
A townsman of weight was O’Hara, J.P.
He gave out the prizes, foundation-stones laid,
He shone when the Governor’s visit was paid;
And twice re-elected as Mayor was he—
The flies couldn’t roost on O’Hara, J.P.
Now Sandy M‘Fly, of the Axe-and-the-Saw,
Was charged with a breach of the licensing law—
He sold after hours whilst talking too free
On matters concerning O’Hara, J.P.
And each contradicted the next witness flat,
Concerning back parlours, side-doors, and all that;
‘Twas very conflicting, as all must agree—
‘Ye’d better take care!’ said O’Hara, J.P.
But ‘Baby,’ the barmaid, her evidence gave—
A poor, timid darling who tried to be brave—
‘Now, don’t be afraid—if it’s frightened ye be—
‘Speak out, my good girl,’ said O’Hara, J.P.
Her hair was so golden, her eyes were so blue,
Her face was so fair and her words seemed so true—
So green in the ways of sweet women was he
That she jolted the heart of O’Hara, J P.
He turned to the other grave Justice of Peace,
And whispered, ‘You can’t always trust the police;
‘I’ll visit the premises during the day,
‘And see for myself,’ said O’Hara, Jay Pay.
(
Case postponed
.)
’Twas early next morning, or late the same night—
‘’Twas early next morning’ we think would be right—
And sounds that betokened a breach of the law
Escaped through the cracks of the Axe-and-the-Saw.
And Constable Dogherty, out in the street,
Met Constable Clancy a bit off his beat;
He took him with finger and thumb by the ear,
And led him around to a lane in the rear.
He pointed a blind where strange shadows were seen—
Wild pantomime hinting of revels within—
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Lawson
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Birthday Song
Written by kim & ricki wilde
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Theres a forest, a beautiful place
The sun always shines upon your face
And the wind blows away
The troubles inside your mind
Youll find your secret garden
A place that nobody knows (nobody knows)
Where you can go
(scarlett) the world looks bright today but one day youll want to cry
(scarlett) (ah-ah) and when your sky looks grey theres one thing I hope youll know
Theres a place you can go
In the distance, your life in the wings
Who knows what emotions it will bring
But the secrets you hold will help you through anything
(ah-ah) youll find your secret garden
(ah-ah) a place that nobody knows (nobody knows)
Where you can go
(scarlett) the world looks bright today but one day youll want to cry
(scarlett) (ah-ah) and when your sky looks grey theres one thing I hope youll know
Theres a place you can go
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Oh so dont be afraid
If you trust the voice inside of you
Itll guide you on your way
On your way
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
(scarlett) the world looks bright today but one day youll want to cry
(scarlett) (ah-ah) and when your sky looks grey theres one thing I hope youll know
(scarlett) youll find your secret garden, somewhere that you can go
(scarlett) (ah-ah) somewhere where you can grow
Scarlett
Theres a place you can go
Ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh
[...] Read more
song performed by Kim Wilde
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Anti-heroine
I'd planned to be Heathcliff's Cathy,
Lady Brett, Nicole or Dominique or Scarlett O'Hara.
I hadn't planned to be folding up the laundry
In uncombed hair and last night's smudged mascara,
An expert on buying Fritos, cleaning the cat box,
Finding lost sneakers, playing hide and seek.
And other things unknown to Heathcliff's
Cathy, Scarlett, Lady Brett, and Dominique.
Why am I never running through the heather?
Why am I never used by Howard Roark?
Why am I never going to Pamplona
Instead of Philadelphia and Newark?
How did I ever wind up with an Irving
When what I'd always had in mind was Rhett,
Or someone more appropriate to
Cathy, Dominique, Nicole, or Lady Brett?
I saw myself as heedless, heartless, headstrong,
An untamed woman searching for her mate.
And there he is -- with charcoal, fork, and apron,
Prepared to broil some hot dogs on the grate.
I haven't wrecked his life or his digestion
With unrequited love or jealous wrath.
He Doesn't know that secretly
I'm Scarlett, Dominique, Nicole, or Brett, or Cathy.
Why am I never cracking up in Zurich?
Why am I never languishing on moors?
Why am I never spoiled by faithful servants
Instead of spraying ant spray on the floors?
The tricycles are cluttering my foyer,
The Pop Tart crumbs are sprinkled on my soul.
And every year it's harder to be
Cathy, Dominique, Brett, Scarlett, and Nicole.
poem by Judith Viorst
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Scarlett Treat
Scarlett,
Treat me to your insights.
Your thoughts with wit,
So delight.
And Scarlett,
I must say
If not for you...
I would not feel as much encouraged,
Had not your comments
Made more sense and cleared my view!
Scarlett,
Treat me to your insights.
Your thoughts with wit,
So delight.
I just can not sit knowing you are right...
And knowing I had perhaps been wrong,
By not accepting a reflection of me,
With belief.
I see that clearly now...
Scarlett Treat.
And as I write,
High on a consciousness
I am blessed with that excites.
Thank you Scarlett for your 'wit treats'.
They have provided a wider vision,
For a mind like mine
That feeds to nourish
This mental appetite that loves to bite on wit!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Scarletts Melancholy
What did Scarlett know;
her green velvet dress
was made from draperies.
What did Scarlett feel;
hunger
more than Brett's love?
Did Love burn like Atlanta
in her breast;
did Hope incinerate there?
Or is it that flames
don't burn
because they're already afire?
Was Brett the ice and Scarlett the flame?
Does Fire Love more than it burns?
Are we all at base visceral
and Love a luxury
which cannot compete
with green dresses
made from draperies?
Is all of this Cruel Irony
which sears
the soul
as we choose
food and soil
instead of sweet Love's face
and instead hunker down
just outside our
Forsaken Dreams;
disheveled and confused?
Too sad this tale
but bright too
because Scarlett knew
that even as she
contemplated Love's Abandonment
for Security
that green drapes
don't really cuddle at night;
and while Brett was not her love
he was Love's Embodiment
and for her
the Soul's
the only True
Nourishment.
[...] Read more
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Happy Birthday Scarlett (Belated)
I meant to write this yesterday,
because yesterday was your birthday.
Therefore, it’s better late than never
as the old saying says.
Now Scarlett when I first saw her name appear,
it reminded me of Scarlet O’Hara
in that famous book Gone With The Wind.
However, this Scarlett is nothing like her at all.
She is warm, friendly, charming and a friend to everyone.
As a good poet and a great friend
don’t worry about looking in the mirror
to find a wrinkle or two there,
from this side of the Atlantic there is none to be seen.
A belated Happy Birthday my friend.
I sincerely hope you had a happy one
surrounded with love from your family and friends.
Once again, I shall say
A BELATED HAPPY BIRTHDAY SCARLETT.
poem by David Harris
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Frankly, My Dear
Scarlett O’ and Melanie,
presenting the dichotomies
of feminine near-felony
and law, would need lobotomies
to reconcile. If, frankly, dear,
you give a damn, you must decide
to which of them your heart is near,
allowing it to be your guide,
for if you choose them both the wind
will see that you are gone. Life ain’t
like Hollywood. If you have sinned,
don’t try to make out with a saint,
because there always is a clash
when opposites attempt to meet,
and if they do they tend to crash,
since those who cannot change must cheat.
Inspired by Michiko Kakutani’s review of Molly Haskell’s “‘Frankly My Dear: Gone With the Wind’ Revisited” (“Frankly My Dear: ” NYT, April 24,2009) :
Just as the dichotomy between Scarlett and Melanie, Rhett and Ashley gave the movie a classic bipolar architecture, so Cukor and Fleming became, in Ms. Haskell’s words, the movie’s stylistic “yin and yang”: Cukor providing “the delicate gradations of feeling between lovers and family” while Fleming supplied the movie’s “bold, sweeping movement through time and history.” At the same time, Ms. Haskell observes, the art director William Cameron Menzies endowed the sprawling opus with a visual coherence: “The expressionistic landscapes and character positionings designed by Menzies and his staff keep certain images as touchstones, in the forefront of consciousness — like the horse collapsing on the bridge, the fire in the background, the use of the new moon, ” even as his masterful use of the new process of Technicolor worked to heighten the drama of the story. In the end the real reason this movie with too many cooks miraculously worked, Ms. Haskell says, was “the fire and desperation of three people with strangely overlapping tastes and eccentricities”: “In ‘Gone With the Wind, ’ Mitchell’s only book, every crisis and trauma of her life is transmuted into narrative; Selznick seized the reins and threw himself into the making of the movie like a man possessed; and Leigh, whose casting was less accidental than legend has it, invested Scarlett with something beyond beauty, something altogether uncanny — a demonic energy, a feverishness that would later tip over into illness and pathology.” All three of these people, Ms. Haskell argues, were “possessed of fire-and-ice opposites that they projected into their lives and careers”: “Leigh, the mesmerizing mixture of bawdy sexpot and exquisite doll, echoed the Scarlett-Melanie sides of Margaret Mitchell, flapper turned matron. Mitchell, in turn, was attracted in fiction and in life to male opposites: the blackguard and the saint (she created one of each; she married one of each) .” As for Selznick, Ms. Haskell says, he liked to cast his protégées as “wide-eyed innocents” or “palpitating sexpots, ” who in turn were attracted “to good boy-bad boy opposites.” “The intensely personal energy of this dividedness, the deep-down tension in Mitchell, Selznick and Leigh between vulgarity and refinement, ” she concludes, “is what gives the archetypes in ‘Gone With the Wind’ their extraordinary human resonance, ” and thanks to the way the three of them threw themselves into the project, “that historical ‘costume’ story” never feels remotely past.
4/24/09
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Scarlett And Melanie
Scarlett O’ and Melanie,
presenting the dichotomies
of feminine near-felony
and law, would need lobotomies
to reconcile. If, frankly, dear,
you give a damn, you must decide
to which of them your heart is near,
allowing it to be your guide,
for if you choose them both the wind
will see that you are gone. Life ain’t
like Hollywood. If you have sinned,
don’t try to make out with a saint,
because there always is a clash
when opposites attempt to meet,
and if they do they tend to crash,
since those who cannot change must cheat.
Inspired by Michiko Kakutani’s review of Molly Haskell’s “‘Frankly My Dear: Gone With the Wind’ Revisited” (“Frankly My Dear: ” NYT, April 24,2009) :
Just as the dichotomy between Scarlett and Melanie, Rhett and Ashley gave the movie a classic bipolar architecture, so Cukor and Fleming became, in Ms. Haskell’s words, the movie’s stylistic “yin and yang”: Cukor providing “the delicate gradations of feeling between lovers and family” while Fleming supplied the movie’s “bold, sweeping movement through time and history.” At the same time, Ms. Haskell observes, the art director William Cameron Menzies endowed the sprawling opus with a visual coherence: “The expressionistic landscapes and character positionings designed by Menzies and his staff keep certain images as touchstones, in the forefront of consciousness — like the horse collapsing on the bridge, the fire in the background, the use of the new moon, ” even as his masterful use of the new process of Technicolor worked to heighten the drama of the story. In the end the real reason this movie with too many cooks miraculously worked, Ms. Haskell says, was “the fire and desperation of three people with strangely overlapping tastes and eccentricities”: “In ‘Gone With the Wind, ’ Mitchell’s only book, every crisis and trauma of her life is transmuted into narrative; Selznick seized the reins and threw himself into the making of the movie like a man possessed; and Leigh, whose casting was less accidental than legend has it, invested Scarlett with something beyond beauty, something altogether uncanny — a demonic energy, a feverishness that would later tip over into illness and pathology.” All three of these people, Ms. Haskell argues, were “possessed of fire-and-ice opposites that they projected into their lives and careers”: “Leigh, the mesmerizing mixture of bawdy sexpot and exquisite doll, echoed the Scarlett-Melanie sides of Margaret Mitchell, flapper turned matron. Mitchell, in turn, was attracted in fiction and in life to male opposites: the blackguard and the saint (she created one of each; she married one of each) .” As for Selznick, Ms. Haskell says, he liked to cast his protégées as “wide-eyed innocents” or “palpitating sexpots, ” who in turn were attracted “to good boy-bad boy opposites.” “The intensely personal energy of this dividedness, the deep-down tension in Mitchell, Selznick and Leigh between vulgarity and refinement, ” she concludes, “is what gives the archetypes in ‘Gone With the Wind’ their extraordinary human resonance, ” and thanks to the way the three of them threw themselves into the project, “that historical ‘costume’ story” never feels remotely past.
4/24/09
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Heartbroke
Now who wouldnt notice the fire in your eyes
Or the bitter direction of impending good-byes
Ive followed and folded, Im wilted in place
At the sight of you standing with streaks down your face
With your heart broke and running from the reason
You got your heart broke, dont give up on believing in me
Heart broke, who kept me from leaving?
With my heart broke
Now pride is a drag and a bore when youre lonely
Sheer madness prevails upon reason to you
But all is not lost, its only mistaken
Thats small consolation but I know just how you feel
With your heart broke and running from the reason
You got your heart broke, dont give up on believing in me
Heart broke , who kept me from leaving?
With my heart broke
Nobody said it was going to be easy
We all have feelings that need a softer touch
But nobody said that it would not be worth it
The human condition continues as such
With your heart broke and running from the reason
Youõve got your heart broke, dont give up on believing in me
Heart broke, who kept me from leaving?
With my heart broke, youve got me heart broke
song performed by George Strait
Added by Lucian Velea
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Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah
you promised me it would last forever
you said there's no way it could die
everything you ever told me
was a bunch of lies
hey hey mom, I'm back on the outside
you know that's not where I belong, no
every truth, everything I believe in
has turned out wrong
It's all blah blah blah blah blah
you broke my heart so many times
a lot of blah blah blah blah blah
you broke my heart
it's so clear when you scratch on the surface
going deeper, deeper down
all I wanted was to make you happy
but baby, what's that sound ?
but baby, what's that sound ?
It's all blah blah blah blah blah
you broke my heart so many times
a lot of blah blah blah blah blah
you broke my heart
you broke my heart
you broke my heart
All you ever cared for was to make you stronger
no one I have know has looked so weak
oh yeah
It's all blah blah blah blah blah
you broke my heart so many times
a lot of blah blah blah blah blah
a lot of blah blah blah blah blah
you broke my heart so many times
a lot of blah blah blah blah blah
you broke my heart
you broke my heart
you broke my heart
you broke my heart
you broke my heart so many times
song performed by Roxette
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Cure Of Calumette
Dere's no voyageur on de reever never
run hees canoe d'ecorce
T'roo de roar an' de rush of de rapide, w'ere it
jump lak a beeg w'ite horse,
Dere's no hunter man on de prairie, never
wear w'at you call racquette
Can beat leetle Fader O'Hara, de Curé of
Calumette.
Hees fader is full-blooded Irish, an' hees moder
is pure Canayenne,
Not offen dat stock go tegedder, but she's
fine combination ma frien'
For de Irish he's full of de devil, an' de French
dey got savoir faire,
Dat's mak'it de very good balance an' tak'
you mos' ev'ry w' ere.
But dere' wan t'ing de Curé wont stan' it;
mak' fun of de Irlandais
An' of course de French we say not'ing,
'cos de parish she's all Canayen,
Den you see on account of de moder, he can't
spik hese'f very moche,
So de ole joke she's all out of fashion, an' wan
of dem t'ing we don't touch.
Wall! wan of dat kin' is de Curé, but w'en he
be comin' our place
De peop' on de parish all w'isper, 'How
young he was look on hees face;
Too bad if de wedder she keel heem de firse
tam he got leetle wet,
An' de Bishop might sen' beeger Curé, for it's
purty tough place, Calumette!'
Ha! ha! how I wish I was dere, me, w'en he
go on de mission call
On de shaintee camp way up de reever, drivin'
hees own cariole,
An' he meet blagger' feller been drinkin', jus'
enough mak' heem ack lak fou,
Joe Vadeboncoeur, dey was call heem, an' he's
purty beeg feller too!
Mebbe Joe he don't know it's de Curé, so he's
hollerin', 'Get out de way,
If you don't geev me whole of de roadside,
sapree! you go off on de sleigh.'
But de Curé he never say not'ing, jus' poule
[...] Read more
poem by William Henry Drummond
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Broke Away
I live a perfect lie
All I ever want lies forgiven
Took away all of those chains and say
They broke away, they broke away
Do you lead a better life
Even when the sweet turns to bitter
Took away all of our chains and said
They broke away, they broke away
Walking round outer space
Knowing that youve had a taste
Walking round and out of place
And knowing what youre gonna do
To break down those chains
I cant tell you
Took away all of our chains and say
Broke away, they broke away
Got away with my ambition
Only if I want it
Only if I dont
Took away all of those chains and say
They broke away, they broke away
Walking round and out of place
Knowing that youve had a taste
Walking round out of place
Nothing what youre gonna do
To break out on me
I cant tell you
Took away all of your chains and say
They broke away, they broke away
And knowing what youre gonna do
To break down those chains
I cant tell you
Take away all of those chains and say
They broke away, they broke away
song performed by Wet Wet Wet
Added by Lucian Velea
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There's Always Tomorrow
Top Model, actress and glamour girl
with a lovely smile just like a pearl
walked through Paris quite elegantly
with Scarlett O'Hara propensity.
Admiring glances flew quite freely on
the Avenue of the Champs Elysees.
But her feminine charm soon did wane
and had 'gone with the wind' and the rain.
Droplets fell down her beautiful face
mascara became a frightful disgrace;
those brunette locks were straggly
and wet - not one sweet glance
did she beget. Oh what humility
descended that morn on Scarlet O'Hara
lost and forlorn. But a voice from within
said secretly 'There's always tomorrow'
.......... 'fiddle-de-dee'..........
poem by Joyce Hemsley
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Welcome To The Room... Sara
Written by stevie nicks.
It's not home
And it's not tara
If fact do i know you
Have i been here before
This is a dream, right
Deja vu
Did i come here on my own
Oh i see
Welcome to the room sara for scarlett
Welcome to the choir, sir
Ooooh
Missionary
Well i will be different
When i get back
And you can take all of the credit
You say everything's fine, baby
But sometimes at night
Where the first cut is the deepest one of all
And the second one
Well it's a worthless thing, so take it all the way back home
Take it home
Ooh, downstairs where the big old house is mine
Ohh, upstairs where the stars laugh and shine
Oh, oh well i thought that you were mine
Well i thought that you were mine
Welcome to the room sara, sara (for scarlett)
Welcome to the choir, sir
Well of course it was a problem (for scarlett)
Front line baby
Well you held her prisoner
And after all these years
Well as well as you knew her
In the never forgotten words of another one of your friends
In the never forgotten words of another one of your friends, baby
When you hang up that phone
Well you cease to exist
Welcome to the room sara
Welcome
Welcome to the room everyone
song performed by Fleetwood Mac
Added by Lucian Velea
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Live Now
[Chorus]
Live now niggaz, there's no promise of a second time around, put it down
you
All you gotta do is just, live now, we spending
Not under the ground yet, we enjoying every second yo
Live now, don't forget to bro, yeah
cause I promise you you'll regret it bro
Picture my last days will be so grim
My daughter at my bedside, respirator in me
Eyes dilated, looking skinny, trying to smile, trying to say something
Whole room will quiet down just to hear my last words
Tears fall down my facial, why fear anything, it's now too late to
I'm dreaming of a time I was silked out at the peak of my career
But I always choked out, leaving mad money on the table at crazy amounts
I would hit the scene for a second and bounce
Admit I did live a little bit, sweet pickle dick
Freaks licked on it, lips I dripped on it
Sex, I dropped pearl necklaces on necks and tits
Traveled half the world, wish I traveled the rest of it
From QB to Mecca kid, so if you knew me
You'd be proud to say I left you with enough memories to resurrect me with
So live now nigga
[Chorus]
[Scarlett]
It's been a long time since you came through to see ya sis
You know I love you, I've been a fan since Genesis
Gotta respect you 'cause you never tied to smash
Since we met a while back, and your style was mack
Now I see that you a man after all you been through
A stand-up dude, held me down after Sekou
Need more brothers like you in the hood, would have wifed you if I could
But the white cells in my blood were no good
Said I had it ten years, but I was just a carrier
I thought, "Me a victim?", could never be my character
It's ill Se' passed the way he did, didn't know how to tell him
Just happy it didn't get in our kid
But all the things I did was the flyest, experiences were priceless
Remember days of diamond cuts
Nugget rings, clubs in Queens, Jetta cars
Used to love them things, Barbados, Belize
I stayed over seas, shopping sprees, credit cards
Pockets of Gs, left the hood, phattest cribs
To platinum from silver, came back, bitches calling me the black Liz Taylor
Imagine that, Rob me? My nigga would kill ya, they knew the rules
All the planes I flew, niggaz I ran through
Lot of unprotected sex, don't know where it came from
Grimy niggaz, rich niggaz, damn it ain't a game son
From the Cayman Islands to the Virgin Islands
Gucci suitcases (coughs), a chic did it, eff the screw faces
Critics and fans, they need to get a life
[...] Read more
song performed by Nas
Added by Lucian Velea
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Live Now (feat. Scarlett)
[Chorus]
Live now niggaz, there's no promise of a second time around, put it down
We'll just live now, there's no reason why you shouldn't, everything is up to you
All you gotta do is just, live now, we spending
Not under the ground yet, we enjoying every second yo
Live now, don't forget to bro, yeah
cause I promise you you'll regret it bro
Picture my last days will be so grim
My daughter at my bedside, respirator in me
Eyes dilated, looking skinny, trying to smile, trying to say something
Whole room will quiet down just to hear my last words
Tears fall down my facial, why fear anything, it's now too late to
I'm dreaming of a time I was silked out at the peak of my career
But I always choked out, leaving mad money on the table at crazy amounts
I would hit the scene for a second and bounce
Admit I did live a little bit, sweet pickle dick
Freaks licked on it, lips I dripped on it
Sex, I dropped pearl necklaces on necks and tits
Traveled half the world, wish I traveled the rest of it
From QB to Mecca kid, so if you knew me
You'd be proud to say I left you with enough memories to resurrect me with
So live now nigga
[Chorus]
[Scarlett]
It's been a long time since you came through to see ya sis
You know I love you, I've been a fan since Genesis
Gotta respect you 'cause you never tied to smash
Since we met a while back, and your style was mack
Now I see that you a man after all you been through
A stand-up dude, held me down after Sekou
Need more brothers like you in the hood, would have wifed you if I could
But the white cells in my blood were no good
Said I had it ten years, but I was just a carrier
I thought, "Me a victim?", could never be my character
It's ill Se' passed the way he did, didn't know how to tell him
Just happy it didn't get in our kid
But all the things I did was the flyest, experiences were priceless
Remember days of diamond cuts
Nugget rings, clubs in Queens, Jetta cars
Used to love them things, Barbados, Belize
I stayed over seas, shopping sprees, credit cards
Pockets of Gs, left the hood, phattest cribs
To platinum from silver, came back, bitches calling me the black Liz Taylor
Imagine that, Rob me? My nigga would kill ya, they knew the rules
All the planes I flew, niggaz I ran through
Lot of unprotected sex, don't know where it came from
Grimy niggaz, rich niggaz, damn it ain't a game son
From the Cayman Islands to the Virgin Islands
Gucci suitcases (coughs), a chic did it, eff the screw faces
Critics and fans, they need to get a life
[...] Read more
song performed by Nas
Added by Lucian Velea
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Stella Was A Driver And She Was Always Down
When she walks down the street
she knows there's people watching
the building fronts are just fronts
to hide the people watching her
she once fell through the street
down the manhole in a that bad way
the underground drip
it's just like her scuba days
days
daze
days
daze
she was all right cause the sea was so airtight she broke away
she was all right cause the sea was so airtight she broke away
she was all right but she can't come out tonight she broke away
she was all right yeah the sea was so tight, air-tight
she broke away broke away
she broke away broke away
she broke away broke away
she broke away
stella
song performed by Interpol
Added by Lucian Velea
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VII. Pompilia
I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.
All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.
Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Broke Her Heart
She gave me her trust
So I broke her heart
She gave me her dreams
So I broke her heart
She gave me her love
So I broke her heart
She gave me a future
So I broke her heart
She made me a home
So I broke her heart
She gave me my children
So I broke her heart
She gave me her hand
So I broke her heart
She gave me a ring
So I broke her heart
She gave me her life
So I broke her heart
Then she gave me my freedom
So I broke MY heart
(2011)
poem by Michael Ernst
Added by Poetry Lover
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