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The only problem with the way they do my character is that they have her get redeemed too early.

quote by Hunter Tylo
Added by Lucian Velea
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Problems

Too many problems, oh why am I here?
I need to be me, cause youre all to clear
And I can see theres something wrong with you
Oh, what do you expect me to do?
At least I gotta know what I wanna be
Dont come to me if you need pity
Are you lonely, you got no-one
You got your body in suspension
Thats a problem, problem, problem
The problem is you
Eat your heart out on a plastic tray
You dont do what you want and you fade away
You work for me, youre working nine-to-five
Its too much fun of being alive
Im using my feet for my human machine
You work for me, living for the screen
Are you lonely, all needs catered
You got your brains dehydrated
Problem, problem, problem, the problem is you
Oh what what you gonna do, problem, problem
Problem, problem, problem, the problem is you
Well, what you gonna do with your problem
The problem is you, problem
I aint death trip, but I aint automatic
You work for me, just stay ecstatic
Dont you give me any orders
To people like me, there is no order
Bet you thought you had it all worked out
Bet you thought you knew what I was about
Bet you thought youd solved all your problems
But you are the problem
Problem, problem, problem, the problem is you
Oh, what you gonna do with your problem?
Ill leave it up to you, oh problem
The problem is you, you got a problem
Oh what you gonna do?
They know a doctor, gonna take you away
Thay take you away and they throw away the key
They dont want you and they dont want me
You got a problem the problem is you
Problem, well, what you gonna do?
Problem, have you got a problem?
Problem, well you got a problem
Problem (x17)

song performed by Megadeth
Added by Lucian Velea
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Early In The Morning

Early in the morning and I cant get right
Had a little date with my baby last night
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Now its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to all the places where we used to go
Went to your house but you dont live there no more
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to your friends house but she was out
Knock on your fathers door and he began to shout get out there boy
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to doogie chain to get something to eat
Waiter looked at me and said you sure look beat
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues

song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Early Morning

Early morning
Great
I was a little late last night
got a little messy
I can't be like that anymore (early morning)
uh - no
CHORUS
I was shakin my ass in the street til mornin
Just walked in an it's early mornin - uh!
Bump bump to the break of dawn
And it don't stop til the early mornin
Passed out on the couch I'm yawnin
Just walked in an it's early mornin - let's start again
Bump bump to the break of dawn
And it don't stop til the early mornin
Met a dark dude, kinda dark hair
When he walked up
Tony grabbed him
But I liked him
I told him "come here
Kinda cool
Baby, we can make plans
Where you live?
Do ya mamma live there?
We can hook up at the hotel"
He was down so I told him "let's go"
what happened - guess what, you don't wanna know
CHORUS
I was shakin my ass in the street til mornin
Just walked in n it's early mornin
Bump bump to the break of dawn
And it don't stop til the early mornin
Passed out on the couch i'm yawnin
Just walked in n it's early mornin - let's start again
Bump bump to the break of dawn
And it don't stop til the early mornin
I went out with girl Jen
And we called up gabe and his friends
He was talkin bout hittin up Show
So I said "what the hell? - let's go!"
Got up n got on the dance floor
Hooked up with a guy named Joe
When the music was fast danced slow
what happened next -guess what? you don't wanna know
CHORUS
I was shakin my ass in the street til mornin
Just walked in n it's early mornin
bump bump to the break of dawn
And it don't stop til the early mornin
Passed out on the couch i'm yawnin

[...] Read more

song performed by Britney Spears
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Big Problem....

There is this BIG PROBLEM
WE decided not to talk about it
We think that that problem must solve itself
Auto-resolution

So day and night the problem stays there
Like a drunkard in the room
Vomiting
To every nook of the house
The house
That smells like fucking
Shit

But that problem is never considered a problem
There is a room for it to stay
And it can stay
It cannot consume us
It has no mouth and so it has no teeth
It has no tongue it cannot say a word
It stays there like a piece of art
And we begin to appreciate it
Like a piece of rock
Unchanged in the middle of the living room
We eat lunch there
They prepare nice dinners
We drink red wine
We munch chocolates
And sweet berries
The problem stays but it cannot nag us
Because we can pretend
That it is a brother
That we cannot junk but only love
And keep as part of the
Company

There is still this problem
And it did not solve itself
We live by this problem and this problem lives with us
Symbiosis

And so now
What is the problem? Is this a problem after all these years?
It is not anymore
We have learned that it is not a problem anymore
We die soon
And it shall perhaps disappear
Shall it weep over our departure?
That is its problem.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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Loose and Untied

Said I woke up,
This mawnin'
With not a problem on my mind.
Said I woke up
And got early out of bed.
With not a problem I could find.

Didn't want to have a rollin' eye to see.
So I crept across the floor...
Until I made it to the back door,
And eased out freely.

And I got up
Early
To rub that trouble out...
Right on time.

Said I...
Awakened up this 'meerrrnin'
With no problems on my mind.
Said I...
Opened up my eyes,
And slid so gently from her side.
'Cause an argument always meets,
My good mawnin' greetin'.

And a headache wasn't comin'
'Cause that headache...
Wasn't gon' be mine!

Said I...
Woke up,
This mawnin'
With not a problem
On my mind.
Said...
I woke up,
And got my mind out of bed.
With not a problem,
I could find.

Didn't want to have a rollin' eye to see.
So I crept across the floor...
Until I made it to the back door easy!
And I eased into the breeze to feel a freedom,
Loose and untied!

And I got up early,
To rub trouble
Out of my mind!

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Problem Child

(roy orbison)
Roy orbison (sun, 1957)
Well my heartbeat is running wild
Because of you my problem child
Oh-oh baby, don't be running wild
Well cool off baby, don't be a problem child
Well don't you see this shakin' spree
Is bound to be the death of me
Oh baby, don't be running wild
Well cool off baby, don't be a problem child
Well my heartbeat is runnin' wild
Because of you my problem child
Oh baby, don't be running wild
Control yourself, don't be a problem child
Well don't you see this shakin' spree
Is bound to be the death of me
Oh baby, don't be running wild
Well cool off baby, don't be a problem child
Well then i'm gone, that's all she wrote
You'll sing this same song note for note
Oh baby, don't be running wild
Control yourself, you're a problem child
Ooh, problem child
Yeah, problem child
Well, problem child
Yeah, problem child
Oh baby,you're a problem child
Slow down girl, down
Slow down girl, down
Down girl, down
Slow down girl, down......

song performed by Roy Orbison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Nature

Weather constantly changes.
No character, only dynamic.
Dull and dreary,
Or bitter and cold,
Or bright and shiny.
This is mother nature.
She is of this world.
She dictates the mood.
She affects mine.

Emotions, constantly changing.
Personality has dynamic,
But lacks character.
It is constantly changing.
Bitter and resentful,
Frustrated and annoyed
Happy & joyous.
This is human nature.
It is of this world.
It dictates our mood.
It affects another.

Mother nature cannot be controlled.
For she is not ours.
Yet mother nature controls me,
Though I am not hers.
Together, we must exist.
We must accept each as we both are.
Though one affects the other.
Based on emotion, not character.

During the storm,
The sky is still the sky,
The ground, is still the ground
The sun is still the sun.
This is the character of mother nature.
The snow may cover the ground,
But the ground remains.
The clouds may cover the sun,
But the sun remains.
Character is always constant.

Nature affects character.
Character is patience, kindness,
Compassion, empathy, forgiving.
Plain and simple,
Our character is love.
Human nature covers human character,
Although it might not be seen,
It still remains.

[...] Read more

poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Berenice by edgar allan poe

MISERY is manifold. The wretchedness of earth is multiform. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rainbow, its hues are as various as the hues of that arch, -as distinct too, yet as intimately blended. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rainbow! How is it that from beauty I have derived a type of unloveliness? -from the covenant of peace a simile of sorrow? But as, in ethics, evil is a consequence of good, so, in fact, out of joy is sorrow born. Either the memory of past bliss is the anguish of to-day, or the agonies which are have their origin in the ecstasies which might have been.

My baptismal name is Egaeus; that of my family I will not mention. Yet there are no towers in the land more time-honored than my gloomy, gray, hereditary halls. Our line has been called a race of visionaries; and in many striking particulars -in the character of the family mansion -in the frescos of the chief saloon -in the tapestries of the dormitories -in the chiselling of some buttresses in the armory -but more especially in the gallery of antique paintings -in the fashion of the library chamber -and, lastly, in the very peculiar nature of the library's contents, there is more than sufficient evidence to warrant the belief.

The recollections of my earliest years are connected with that chamber, and with its volumes -of which latter I will say no more. Here died my mother. Herein was I born. But it is mere idleness to say that I had not lived before -that the soul has no previous existence. You deny it? -let us not argue the matter. Convinced myself, I seek not to convince. There is, however, a remembrance of aerial forms -of spiritual and meaning eyes -of sounds, musical yet sad -a remembrance which will not be excluded; a memory like a shadow, vague, variable, indefinite, unsteady; and like a shadow, too, in the impossibility of my getting rid of it while the sunlight of my reason shall exist.

In that chamber was I born. Thus awaking from the long night of what seemed, but was not, nonentity, at once into the very regions of fairy-land -into a palace of imagination -into the wild dominions of monastic thought and erudition -it is not singular that I gazed around me with a startled and ardent eye -that I loitered away my boyhood in books, and dissipated my youth in reverie; but it is singular that as years rolled away, and the noon of manhood found me still in the mansion of my fathers -it is wonderful what stagnation there fell upon the springs of my life -wonderful how total an inversion took place in the character of my commonest thought. The realities of the world affected me as visions, and as visions only, while the wild ideas of the land of dreams became, in turn, -not the material of my every-day existence-but in very deed that existence utterly and solely in itself.

Berenice and I were cousins, and we grew up together in my paternal halls. Yet differently we grew -I ill of health, and buried in gloom -she agile, graceful, and overflowing with energy; hers the ramble on the hill-side -mine the studies of the cloister -I living within my own heart, and addicted body and soul to the most intense and painful meditation -she roaming carelessly through life with no thought of the shadows in her path, or the silent flight of the raven-winged hours. Berenice! -I call upon her name -Berenice! -and from the gray ruins of memory a thousand tumultuous recollections are startled at the sound! Ah! vividly is her image before me now, as in the early days of her light-heartedness and joy! Oh! gorgeous yet fantastic beauty! Oh! sylph amid the shrubberies of Arnheim! -Oh! Naiad among its fountains! -and then -then all is mystery and terror, and a tale which should not be told. Disease -a fatal disease -fell like the simoom upon her frame, and, even while I gazed upon her, the spirit of change swept, over her, pervading her mind, her habits, and her character, and, in a manner the most subtle and terrible, disturbing even the identity of her person! Alas! the destroyer came and went, and the victim -where was she, I knew her not -or knew her no longer as Berenice.

Among the numerous train of maladies superinduced by that fatal and primary one which effected a revolution of so horrible a kind in the moral and physical being of my cousin, may be mentioned as the most distressing and obstinate in its nature, a species of epilepsy not unfrequently terminating in trance itself -trance very nearly resembling positive dissolution, and from which her manner of recovery was in most instances, startlingly abrupt. In the mean time my own disease -for I have been told that I should call it by no other appelation -my own disease, then, grew rapidly upon me, and assumed finally a monomaniac character of a novel and extraordinary form -hourly and momently gaining vigor -and at length obtaining over me the most incomprehensible ascendancy. This monomania, if I must so term it, consisted in a morbid irritability of those properties of the mind in metaphysical science termed the attentive. It is more than probable that I am not understood; but I fear, indeed, that it is in no manner possible to convey to the mind of the merely general reader, an adequate idea of that nervous intensity of interest with which, in my case, the powers of meditation (not to speak technically) busied and buried themselves, in the contemplation of even the most ordinary objects of the universe.

To muse for long unwearied hours with my attention riveted to some frivolous device on the margin, or in the topography of a book; to become absorbed for the better part of a summer's day, in a quaint shadow falling aslant upon the tapestry, or upon the door; to lose myself for an entire night in watching the steady flame of a lamp, or the embers of a fire; to dream away whole days over the perfume of a flower; to repeat monotonously some common word, until the sound, by dint of frequent repetition, ceased to convey any idea whatever to the mind; to lose all sense of motion or physical existence, by means of absolute bodily quiescence long and obstinately persevered in; -such were a few of the most common and least pernicious vagaries induced by a condition of the mental faculties, not, indeed, altogether unparalleled, but certainly bidding defiance to anything like analysis or explanation.

Yet let me not be misapprehended. -The undue, earnest, and morbid attention thus excited by objects in their own nature frivolous, must not be confounded in character with that ruminating propensity common to all mankind, and more especially indulged in by persons of ardent imagination. It was not even, as might be at first supposed, an extreme condition or exaggeration of such propensity, but primarily and essentially distinct and different. In the one instance, the dreamer, or enthusiast, being interested by an object usually not frivolous, imperceptibly loses sight of this object in a wilderness of deductions and suggestions issuing therefrom, until, at the conclusion of a day dream often replete with luxury, he finds the incitamentum or first cause of his musings entirely vanished and forgotten. In my case the primary object was invariably frivolous, although assuming, through the medium of my distempered vision, a refracted and unreal importance. Few deductions, if any, were made; and those few pertinaciously returning in upon the original object as a centre. The meditations were never pleasurable; and, at the termination of the reverie, the first cause, so far from being out of sight, had attained that supernaturally exaggerated interest which was the prevailing feature of the disease. In a word, the powers of mind more particularly exercised were, with me, as I have said before, the attentive, and are, with the day-dreamer, the speculative.

My books, at this epoch, if they did not actually serve to irritate the disorder, partook, it will be perceived, largely, in their imaginative and inconsequential nature, of the characteristic qualities of the disorder itself. I well remember, among others, the treatise of the noble Italian Coelius Secundus Curio 'de Amplitudine Beati Regni dei'; St. Austin's great work, the 'City of God'; and Tertullian 'de Carne Christi, ' in which the paradoxical sentence 'Mortuus est Dei filius; credible est quia ineptum est: et sepultus resurrexit; certum est quia impossibile est' occupied my undivided time, for many weeks of laborious and fruitless investigation.

Thus it will appear that, shaken from its balance only by trivial things, my reason bore resemblance to that ocean-crag spoken of by Ptolemy Hephestion, which steadily resisting the attacks of human violence, and the fiercer fury of the waters and the winds, trembled only to the touch of the flower called Asphodel. And although, to a careless thinker, it might appear a matter beyond doubt, that the alteration produced by her unhappy malady, in the moral condition of Berenice, would afford me many objects for the exercise of that intense and abnormal meditation whose nature I have been at some trouble in explaining, yet such was not in any degree the case. In the lucid intervals of my infirmity, her calamity, indeed, gave me pain, and, taking deeply to heart that total wreck of her fair and gentle life, I did not fall to ponder frequently and bitterly upon the wonder-working means by which so strange a revolution had been so suddenly brought to pass. But these reflections partook not of the idiosyncrasy of my disease, and were such as would have occurred, under similar circumstances, to the ordinary mass of mankind. True to its own character, my disorder revelled in the less important but more startling changes wrought in the physical frame of Berenice -in the singular and most appalling distortion of her personal identity.

During the brightest days of her unparalleled beauty, most surely I had never loved her. In the strange anomaly of my existence, feelings with me, had never been of the heart, and my passions always were of the mind. Through the gray of the early morning -among the trellised shadows of the forest at noonday -and in the silence of my library at night, she had flitted by my eyes, and I had seen her -not as the living and breathing Berenice, but as the Berenice of a dream -not as a being of the earth, earthy, but as the abstraction of such a being-not as a thing to admire, but to analyze -not as an object of love, but as the theme of the most abstruse although desultory speculation. And now -now I shuddered in her presence, and grew pale at her approach; yet bitterly lamenting her fallen and desolate condition, I called to mind that she had loved me long, and, in an evil moment, I spoke to her of marriage.

And at length the period of our nuptials was approaching, when, upon an afternoon in the winter of the year, -one of those unseasonably warm, calm, and misty days which are the nurse of the beautiful Halcyon*, -I sat, (and sat, as I thought, alone,) in the inner apartment of the library. But uplifting my eyes I saw that Berenice stood before me.

*For as Jove, during the winter season, gives twice seven days of warmth, men have called this clement and temperate time the nurse of the beautiful Halcyon -Simonides.

Was it my own excited imagination -or the misty influence of the atmosphere -or the uncertain twilight of the chamber -or the gray draperies which fell around her figure -that caused in it so vacillating and indistinct an outline? I could not tell. She spoke no word, I -not for worlds could I have uttered a syllable. An icy chill ran through my frame; a sense of insufferable anxiety oppressed me; a consuming curiosity pervaded my soul; and sinking back upon the chair, I remained for some time breathless and motionless, with my eyes riveted upon her person. Alas! its emaciation was excessive, and not one vestige of the former being, lurked in any single line of the contour. My burning glances at length fell upon the face.

The forehead was high, and very pale, and singularly placid; and the once jetty hair fell partially over it, and overshadowed the hollow temples with innumerable ringlets now of a vivid yellow, and Jarring discordantly, in their fantastic character, with the reigning melancholy of the countenance. The eyes were lifeless, and lustreless, and seemingly pupil-less, and I shrank involuntarily from their glassy stare to the contemplation of the thin and shrunken lips. They parted; and in a smile of peculiar meaning, the teeth of the changed Berenice disclosed themselves slowly to my view. Would to God that I had never beheld them, or that, having done so, I had died!

The shutting of a door disturbed me, and, looking up, I found that my cousin had departed from the chamber. But from the disordered chamber of my brain, had not, alas! departed, and would not be driven away, the white and ghastly spectrum of the teeth. Not a speck on their surface -not a shade on their enamel -not an indenture in their edges -but what that period of her smile had sufficed to brand in upon my memory. I saw them now even more unequivocally than I beheld them then. The teeth! -the teeth! -they were here, and there, and everywhere, and visibly and palpably before me; long, narrow, and excessively white, with the pale lips writhing about them, as in the very moment of their first terrible development. Then came the full fury of my monomania, and I struggled in vain against its strange and irresistible influence. In the multiplied objects of the external world I had no thoughts but for the teeth. For these I longed with a phrenzied desire. All other matters and all different interests became absorbed in their single contemplation. They -they alone were present to the mental eye, and they, in their sole individuality, became the essence of my mental life. I held them in every light. I turned them in every attitude. I surveyed their characteristics. I dwelt upon their peculiarities. I pondered upon their conformation. I mused upon the alteration in their nature. I shuddered as I assigned to them in imagination a sensitive and sentient power, and even when unassisted by the lips, a capability of moral expression. Of Mad'selle Salle it has been well said, 'que tous ses pas etaient des sentiments, ' and of Berenice I more seriously believed que toutes ses dents etaient des idees. Des idees! -ah here was the idiotic thought that destroyed me! Des idees! -ah therefore it was that I coveted them so madly! I felt that their possession could alone ever restore me to peace, in giving me back to reason.

And the evening closed in upon me thus-and then the darkness came, and tarried, and went -and the day again dawned -and the mists of a second night were now gathering around -and still I sat motionless in that solitary room; and still I sat buried in meditation, and still the phantasma of the teeth maintained its terrible ascendancy as, with the most vivid hideous distinctness, it floated about amid the changing lights and shadows of the chamber. At length there broke in upon my dreams a cry as of horror and dismay; and thereunto, after a pause, succeeded the sound of troubled voices, intermingled with many low moanings of sorrow, or of pain. I arose from my seat and, throwing open one of the doors of the library, saw standing out in the antechamber a servant maiden, all in tears, who told me that Berenice was -no more. She had been seized with epilepsy in the early morning, and now, at the closing in of the night, the grave was ready for its tenant, and all the preparations for the burial were completed.

I found myself sitting in the library, and again sitting there alone. It seemed that I had newly awakened from a confused and exciting dream. I knew that it was now midnight, and I was well aware that since the setting of the sun Berenice had been interred. But of that dreary period which intervened I had no positive -at least no definite comprehension. Yet its memory was replete with horror -horror more horrible from being vague, and terror more terrible from ambiguity. It was a fearful page in the record my existence, written all over with dim, and hideous, and unintelligible recollections. I strived to decypher them, but in vain; while ever and anon, like the spirit of a departed sound, the shrill and piercing shriek of a female voice seemed to be ringing in my ears. I had done a deed -what was it? I asked myself the question aloud, and the whispering echoes of the chamber answered me, 'what was it? '

On the table beside me burned a lamp, and near it lay a little box. It was of no remarkable character, and I had seen it frequently before, for it was the property of the family physician; but how came it there, upon my table, and why did I shudder in regarding it? These things were in no manner to be accounted for, and my eyes at length dropped to the open pages of a book, and to a sentence underscored therein. The words were the singular but simple ones of the poet Ebn Zaiat, 'Dicebant mihi sodales si sepulchrum amicae visitarem, curas meas aliquantulum fore levatas.' Why then, as I perused them, did the hairs of my head erect themselves on end, and the blood of my body become congealed within my veins?

There came a light tap at the library door, and pale as the tenant of a tomb, a menial entered upon tiptoe. His looks were wild with terror, and he spoke to me in a voice tremulous, husky, and very low. What said he? -some broken sentences I heard. He told of a wild cry disturbing the silence of the night -of the gathering together of the household-of a search in the direction of the sound; -and then his tones grew thrillingly distinct as he whispered me of a violated grave -of a disfigured body enshrouded, yet still breathing, still palpitating, still alive!

He pointed to garments; -they were muddy and clotted with gore. I spoke not, and he took me gently by the hand; -it was indented with the impress of human nails. He directed my attention to some object against the wall; -I looked at it for some minutes; -it was a spade. With a shriek I bounded to the table, and grasped the box that lay upon it. But I could not force it open; and in my tremor it slipped from my hands, and fell heavily, and burst into pieces; and from it, with a rattling sound, there rolled out some instruments of dental surgery, intermingled with thirty-two small, white and ivory-looking substances that were scattered to and fro about the floor.

poem by Erie Morganmaples
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No Problem

(r. palmer)
I think the two of us
Should visit paradise
Wed be so calm inside
Id be your alibi
I want to be the one
That shares in all your dreams
Always be there for you
To staisfy your needs
Thered be no problem - even if you just need someone to talk to
Ill be there to listen any time of day
Theres no problem you cant tell me about it
Oh baby I could make you happy more than any other man
Someone to rely on and
Care for you
I could keep you warm
Protect you from all harm
Id be right by your side
To keep you satisfied
No problem - even if you just need someone to talk to
Ill be there to listen any time of day
Thered be no problem if you tell me about it
Oh baby I could make you happy more than any other man
Someone to rely on and
Care for you girl
No problem
No problem
I think the two of us
Should visit paradise
Youd be so calm inside
Id be your alibi
You could get in my heart
And we could take a ride
We could go all the way
Or just to paradise
No problem
No problem
No problem
No problem

song performed by Robert Palmer
Added by Lucian Velea
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Problem Solver

If we stuck by the rules,
To ensure they're obeyed...
I can be,
A problem solver.
You can be,
A problem solver.
We could all be problem solvers,
If we got to be involved.

I can be,
A problem solver.
You can be,
A problem solver.
We could all be problem solvers,
If we got to be involved.

Troubles would diminish...
If we all got now involved.
Anguishing would disappear...
If it was not thought a job,
To be labored then be robbed!

Troubles would diminish...
If we all got now involved.
Anguishing would disappear...
If it was not thought a job,
To be labored then be robbed!

If we stuck by the rules,
To ensure they're obeyed...
Oh I can be,
A problem solver.
You can be,
A problem solver.
We could all be problem solvers,
If we got to be involved.

Troubles would diminish...
If we all got now involved.
Anguishing would disappear...
If it was not thought a job!
We could all be problem solvers,
If we got to be involved.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Early Mornin'

Early mornin'
All right, I was out real late last night
Got a little messy
Early morning
Can't be like that anymore, oh
I was shaking my ass in the streets this morning
Just walked in and it's early morning
Bump, bump till the break of dawn and
It don't stop till the early morning
Passed out on the couch I'm yawning
Just walked in and it's early morning
Bump, bump till the break of dawn and
It don't stop till the early morning
Wanna talk to
When he walked up someone grabbed him
But I liked him to come here
Kinda cool
Baby, we can make plans
Where ya live
Does your mama live there
We can hook up at the hotel
Hands down so
I told him, let's go
But waht happened next, guess?
But you don't wanna know
I was shaking my ass in the streets this morning
Just walked in and it's early morning
Bump, bump till the break of dawn and
It don't stop till the early morning
Passed out on the couch I'm yawning
Just walked in and it's early morning
Bump, bump till the break of dawn and
It don't stop till the early morning
Oh, in love
So I approached him
We gotta give him his friends
There's something bout him that show
So I said, what the hell
Let's go
Got up, got on the dance floor
Hooked up with a guy named Joe
When the music was fast and slow
But waht happened next, guess?
But you don't wanna know
I was shaking my ass in the streets this morning
Just walked in and it's early morning
Bump, bump till the break of dawn and
It don't stop till the early morning
Passed out on the couch I'm yawning
Just walked in and it's early morning

[...] Read more

song performed by Britney Spears
Added by Lucian Velea
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It Is Still Too Early To Cry

Life's bleak
There's no other way to flee
from the broken glass fragments
scattered across the floor.
Watching pieces of my face
staring back at me
as my head hung low
looking at those flawed reflections.

Blood dripping on the brick
the now silent culprit
who blew that precious mirror
right in front of my face.
Happened in a flash
nothing I could save
just be glad that my eyes
are spared from the graze.

The blizzards are blowing
the wind won't stop howling,
but it is still too early to fall...
It is still too early to cry.
The old me would feel like quitting
but I have a reason to keep on standing,
because I can see with my very eyes
that the season is still too early...
It is still too early to cry.

Wishing the dark to be eternal
as flesh curled up in a corner
locked in a fetal position
not wanting to wake up again.
But Time waits for no one
and dawn disturbs my slumber
as if my rest has never happened,
the cycle goes on and on.

The blizzards are blowing
the wind won't stop howling,
but it is still too early to fall...
It is still too early to cry.
The old me would feel like quitting
but I have a reason to keep on standing,
because I can see with my very eyes
that the season is still too early...
It is still too early to cry.

(Nature's song rings so eternal:
Life slips into death,
death rises into life.

[...] Read more

poem by Wilson Khor Woo Han
Added by Poetry Lover
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Tirocinium; or, a Review of Schools

It is not from his form, in which we trace
Strength join'd with beauty, dignity with grace,
That man, the master of this globe, derives
His right of empire over all that lives.
That form, indeed, the associate of a mind
Vast in its powers, ethereal in its kind,
That form, the labour of Almighty skill,
Framed for the service of a freeborn will,
Asserts precedence, and bespeaks control,
But borrows all its grandeur from the soul.
Hers is the state, the splendour, and the throne,
An intellectual kingdom, all her own.
For her the memory fills her ample page
With truths pour’d down from every distant age;
For her amasses an unbounded store,
The wisdom of great nations, now no more;
Though laden, not encumber’d with her spoil;
Laborious, yet unconscious of her toil;
When copiously supplied, then most enlarged;
Still to be fed, and not to be surcharged.
For her the Fancy, roving unconfined,
The present muse of every pensive mind,
Works magic wonders, adds a brighter hue
To Nature’s scenes than Nature ever knew.
At her command winds rise and waters roar,
Again she lays them slumbering on the shore;
With flower and fruit the wilderness supplies,
Or bids the rocks in ruder pomp arise.
For her the Judgment, umpire in the strife
That Grace and Nature have to wage through life,
Quick-sighted arbiter of good and ill,
Appointed sage preceptor to the Will,
Condemns, approves, and, with a faithful voice,
Guides the decision of a doubtful choice.
Why did the fiat of a God give birth
To yon fair Sun and his attendant Earth?
And, when descending he resigns the skies,
Why takes the gentler Moon her turn to rise,
Whom Ocean feels through all his countless waves,
And owns her power on every shore he laves?
Why do the seasons still enrich the year,
Fruitful and young as in their first career?
Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees,
Rock’d in the cradle of the western breeze:
Summer in haste the thriving charge receives
Beneath the shade of her expanded leaves,
Till Autumn’s fiercer heats and plenteous dews
Dye them at last in all their glowing hues.—
‘Twere wild profusion all, and bootless waste,
Power misemploy’d, munificence misplaced,

[...] Read more

poem by William Cowper
Added by Poetry Lover
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Who Is The Real Problem?

i am the real problem
i Do not have anything to do with my Life, it has only lonelines as the real cause of its misery.

i am the real problem
i Have figured out the real issue
Of the problem and
it is not capable of exact
Definition,

That seemingly is a problem apparently
Appearing to me as life but there is
No life in it
The right to call it life
Cannot be true, this is just to be frank about it.

I refer to the expertise of sorceress
She put some aluminates in cinders
And she figures out the illuminated forms of my
Problem,

a snake is the illuminated form of my misery

There is a snake in my house
Or
could be in my office or could be in my world.

The real problem is i
Do not believe the sorceress
And I am left with nothing to do but figure out the real
Problem in my dreams

Planes taking off and exploding in mid air
Rivers rising flooding and making a town disappear
Bamboo poles with lots of coconut oil rubbed on its sides and I cannot climb
My way of jumping into murky rivers filled with goldfishes floating dead
A brook filled with feces and I am there swimming
A snake chasing me and I cannot run as fast as I can
and it bites me
And I

Wake up
profusely sweating and trembling

i get a glass of water and
ThankGod that everything is simply
a bad dream

The real problem really is,
On the other hand,
I waking up

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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Too Early For The Sun

I have never known a love like this,
Before in my life,
Tears can turn into bliss,
With only a kiss, only a kiss.
And I have never held a girl,
Like you so close in my arms,
You appeared in my world,
And offered me hope for one more time.
Ive never been so afraid,
That love is just a dream,
Darling Ill awake and youll be gone,
Never believe that Ill love somebody,
Ill love somebody, someone like you,
Ill love somebody, I could love somebody.
Youre too early for the sun,
Too early for the moon,
Too early for the rain,
Coming down on me,
You make me feel so close to home,
So far away, like nowhere else Ive never been.
Youre too early for the stars,
Too early for the wind,
Too early for my heart,
To open up again,
But when I see you I just laugh,
And I believe, Im right where Im supposed to be.
I have never known a life like this,
Except in my dreams,
One kiss and I was renewed,
Now Im alive, I have survived.
I have never loved a girl,
Like you, except in my dreams,
All my songs are for you,
I finally see my dreams come true.
Ive never been so afraid,
That love is just a dream,
Darling Ill awake and youll be gone,
Never believe that Ill love somebody,
Ill love somebody, someone like you,
Ill love somebody, I could love somebody.
Youre too early for the sun,
Too early for the moon,
Too early for the rain,
Coming down on you,
You make me feel so close to home,
So far away, like nowhere else Ive never been.
Youre just too early for the stars,
Too early for the wind,
Too early for my heart,
To open up again.

[...] Read more

song performed by Kenny Loggins
Added by Lucian Velea
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Criminal

Ive been a bad bad girl,
Ive been careless with a delicate man.
And its a sad sad world,
When a girl can break a boy
Just because she can.
Dont you tell me to deny it,
Ive done wrong and I want to
Suffer for my sins.
Ive come to you cause I need
Guidance to be true
And I just dont know where I can begin.
What I need is a good defense
cause Im feelin like a criminal.
And I need to be redeemed
To the one I sinned against
Because he was all I ever knew of love.
Heaven help me for the way I am.
Save me from these evil deeds.
Before I get them done.
I know tomorrow brings the consequence
At hand.
But I keep livin this day like
The next will never come.
Oh, help me, but dont tell me
To deny it.
Ive got to cleanse myself.
Of all these lies till Im good
Enough for him.
Ive got a lot to lose and im
Bettin high
So Im beggin you before it ends
Just tell me where to begin.
What I need is a good defense
cause Im feelin like a criminal.
And I need to be redeemed
To the one I sinned against
Because he was all I ever knew of love.
Let me know the way
Before theres hell to pay.
Give me room to lay the law and let me go.
Ive got to make a play
To make my lover stay
So, what would an angel say?
cause the devil wants to know.
What I need is a good defense
cause Im feelin like a criminal.
And I need to be redeemed
To the one I sinned against
Because he was all I ever knew of love.
What I need is a good defense

[...] Read more

song performed by Fiona Apple
Added by Lucian Velea
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Childish Recollections

'I cannot but remember such things were,
And were most dear to me.'

WHEN slow Disease, with all her host of pains,
Chills the warm, tide which flows along the veins
When Health,affrighted, spreads her rosy wing,
And flies with every changing gale of spring;
Not to the aching frame alone confined,
Unyielding pangs avail the drooping mind:
What grisly forms, the spectre-train of woe,
Bid shuddering Nature shrink beneath the blow
With Resignaion wage relentless strife,
While Hope retires appall'd, and clings to life!
Yet less the pang when, through the tedious hour,
Remembrance sheds around her genial power,
Calls back the vanish'd days to rapture given,
When love was bliss, and Beauty form'd our heaven;
Or, dear to youth, portrays each childish scene,
Those farry bowers, where all in turn have been.
As when through clouds that pour the sumrner storm
The orb of day unveils his distant form,
Gilds with faiht beams the crystal dews of rain,
And dimly twinkles o'er the watery plain;
Thus, while the future dark and cheerless gleams
The sun of memory, glowing through my drearns
Though sunk' the radiance of his former blaze,
To scenes far distant points his paler rays;
Still rules my senses with unbounded sway,
The past confounding with the present day.

Oft does my heart indulge the rising thought,
Which still recurs, uniook'd for and Unsought
My soul to Fancy's fond suggestion yields,
And roams romantic o'er her airy fields.
Scenes of my youth, developed, crowd to view,
To which I long have bade a last adieu!
Seats of delight, inspiring youthful themes;
Friends lost to me for aye, except in dreams;
Some who in marble prematurely sleep.
Whose forms I now remember but to weep;
Some who yet urge the same scholastic course
Of early science, future fame the source;
Who, still contending in the studious race,
In quick rotation fill the senior place.
These with a thousand visions now unite,
To dazzle, though they please, my aching sight
Ida blest spot, where science holds her reign,
How joyous once I join'd thv youthful train!
Bright in idea gleams thy lofty spire,
Again I mingle with thy playful quire;

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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My Problem Is You

To love and get away before the walls have arisen
Youve got to be free
But to go on attempting to break into the prison
Youd have to be me
I wait for the sun to rise over the mountain
I wait for your touch
I wait for your angels to carry me home
But I wait too much
Waiting for you
I have no problem telling right from wrong
Fiction from whats true
No problem telling the dream from the dawn
My problem is you
Waiting here for you
I wanted to live in the realm of the senses
Youve got to know how
And for some kinds of pleasure there are no defenses
I know that now
Our love is a crackling ladder of lightning
Our love is a fire
Our love is a wave moving deep in an ocean
Of need and desire
Waiting for you
I have no problem with this crooked world
I play the cards I drew
No problem with the changes life has hurled
My problem is you
Waiting here for you
I need your wonder and I need your light
I need your tender touch to heal the night
I need you laughing and I need you free
And I need to lock you away deep inside of me
Waiting for you
I have no problem telling right from wrong
The way some people do
I know exactly where these arms belong
My problem is you
Waiting here for you

song performed by Jackson Browne
Added by Lucian Velea
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Melanie

Me-he-he-helanie
What can the problem be
Sweet me-he-he-he-helanie
Why wont you go out with me
She lived across the street on the fifteenth floor of the gilmore building
I saw her in the shower reaching for some soap
I knew she had to be the girl for me
And to think I probably never would have found her
If I hadnt bought that telescope
Oh, me-he-he-helanie
What can the problem be
Sweet me-he-he-he-helanie
Why wont you go out with me
I just cant understand it
Why wont you return my phone calls
Are you still mad I gave a mohawk to your cat
If youd just say the word
Im certain that our love would last forever and ever
Or are you too dumb to realize that
Me-he-he-helanie
What can the problem be
Sweet me-he-he-he-helanie
Why wont you go out with me
How can you ignore me when you know that I cant live without you
I have to go through your garbage just to learn more about you
Melanie, ooh
Oh sweet me-he-he-helanie
Why wont you go out with me
You werent impressed when I tattooed your name across my forehead
You wouldnt listen when I promised to be true
I couldnt stand it so I jumped out from the sixteenth story window
Right above you
Now I may be dead but I still love you
Me-he-he-helanie
What can the problem be
Sweet me-he-he-he-helanie
Why wont you go out with me
Me-he-he-helanie
What can the problem be
Sweet me-he-he-he-helanie
Why wont you go out with me
Im singin me-he-he-helanie
What can the problem be
Sweet, sweet me-he-he-he-helanie
Why wont you go out with me
Im singin me-he-he-helanie
What can the problem be
Sweet me-he-he-he-helanie
Why wont you go out with me
Im singin me-he-he-helanie

[...] Read more

song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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Early Morning Cold Taxi

3:36, its cold, I know Im growing old,
With lifes best side on the downward slope,
Its in my own hands, I know Ill cope,
My girls with me and all my friends can see.
Here I am again,
Early morning cold taxi.
Early morning cold taxi.
Done it before, do it again,
Know from experience its not in vain,
Shes the best Ive had, I cannot see, what someone else can do to me.
Its a long way home but loves so warm, youll see.
Here I am again,
Early morning cold taxi.
Early morning cold taxi.
Early morning cold taxi,
Each time I do it, I feel so down and out,
Early morning cold taxi,
though my mind thinks strange Ill keep on, no doubt.
3:36, its cold, I know Im growing old,
One day well be wed,
This I know for its what she said,
Then no more will my mind be uneasy.
Early morning cold taxi,
Each time I do it, I feel so down and out,
Early morning cold taxi,
though my mind thinks strange Ill keep on, no doubt.
3:36, its cold, I know Im growing old,
One day well be wed,
This I know for its what she said,
Then no more will my mind be uneasy.
Here I am again,
Early morning cold taxi.
Early morning cold taxi.

song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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