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Comedy is just to me, maybe it's a natural knack, if I can see where the joke is in the writing and I can see where the setup is and I can tell this is the way to make it.

quote by Matt LeBlanc
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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911 Is A Joke

Now I dialed nine one one a long time ago
Dont you see how late theyre reactin
They only come, and they come when they wanna
So get the morgue truck em back the goner
They dont care cause they stay paid anyway
They treat you like an ace that cant be betrayed
I know you stumble with no use people
If your life is on the line, then youre dead today
Late comings with the late comin stretcher -
Thats a body bag in disguise - yall Ill betcha
I call em body snatchers
Quick they come to fetch you -
With an autopsy ambulance just to dissect ya
They are the kings cos they swing amputation
Lose your arms your legs the famous compilation
I can prove it to you watch the rotation
It all adds up to a funky situation
Get up, get get down
911 is a joke in yo town
Get up, get get down
Late 911 wears the late crown
(chorus)
(ow)
911 is a joke , 911 is a joke
Everyday they dont never come correct
You can ask my man right here with the broken neck
Hes a witness to the job never bein done
He wouldve been in full effect , 911
Is a joke because their always jokin
They the token to your life when its croakin
They need to be in a pawn shop on a 911 -
Is a joke we dont want em
I call a cab cause a cab will come quicker
The doctors huddle up and call a flea flicker
The reason that I say that cause they
Flick you off like fleas
They be laughin at ya while youre crawlin on our knees
And to the strength, so go the length
Thinkin you are first when you really are tenth
You better wake up and smell the real flavor
Cause 911 is a fake life saver
(chorus) (chorus)
Ow, ow 911 is a joke
911 is a joke,
911 is a joke,
911 is a joke, 911 is a joke.
(get up, get get down)
911 is a joke, 911 is a joke, 911 is a joke
(get up, get get down)
911 is a joke, 911 is a joke, 911 is a joke

[...] Read more

song performed by Duran Duran
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pricelessly Impregnable Humanity

You’ve taken my very own scarlet blood O! heavenly son; so its irrefutably natural and nothing great; that you’re exactly my astoundingly pristine and timelessly priceless; duplicate,

You’ve taken my very own venerated milk O! beautiful son; so its irrefutably natural and nothing great; that you’re exactly my bountifully blossoming and unabashedly impeccable; duplicate,

You’ve taken my very own intriguing brain O! enamoring son; so its irrefutably natural and nothing great; that you’re exactly my celestially amazing and mischievously bouncing; duplicate,

You’ve taken my very own silken shadow O! stupendous son; so its irrefutably natural and nothing great; that you’re exactly my wonderfully untainted and jubilantly ecstatic; duplicate,

You’ve taken my very own uninhibited smile O! majestic son; so its irrefutably natural and nothing great; that you’re exactly my inimitably magnetic and fabulously effulgent; duplicate,

You’ve taken my very own inscrutable destiny lines O! effervescent son; so its irrefutably natural and nothing great; that you’re exactly my incredulously handsome and victoriously unimpeachable; duplicate,

You’ve taken my very own inimitably humble name O! royal son; so its irrefutably natural and nothing great; that you’re exactly my poignantly iridescent and eternally fructifying; duplicate,

You’ve taken my very own romantic artistry O! blazing son; so its irrefutably natural and nothing great; that you’re exactly my triumphantly unfettered and symbiotically innocent; duplicate,

You’ve taken my very own mellifluous voice O! charismatic son; so its irrefutably natural and nothing great; that you’re exactly my bounteously emollient and euphorically fearless; duplicate,

You’ve taken my very own towering height O! regale son; so its irrefutably natural and nothing great; that you’re exactly my indisputably peerless and synergistically truthful; duplicate,

You’ve taken my very own passionate eyes O! resplendent son; so its irrefutably natural and nothing great; that you’re exactly my fearlessly humanitarian and tirelessly discovering; duplicate,

You’ve taken my very own chocolate brown color O! holistic son; so its irrefutably natural and nothing great; that you’re exactly my invincibly wondrous and spell-bindingly ecstatic; duplicate,

You’ve taken my very own ebullient body contours O! benign son; so its irrefutably natural and nothing great; that you’re exactly my immaculately benevolent and magnanimously humanitarian; duplicate,

You’ve taken my very own fiery breath O! rhapsodic son; so its irrefutably natural and nothing great; that you’re exactly my blissfully unadulterated and interminably bubby; duplicate,

You’ve taken my very own optimistic face O! vivacious son; so its irrefutably natural and nothing great; that you’re exactly my timelessly flowering and melodiously rejuvenated; duplicate,

You’ve taken my very own broadened shoulders O! magical son; so its irrefutably natural and nothing great; that you’re exactly my gloriously unprejudiced and nostalgically rueful; duplicate,

You’ve taken my very own princely dimples O! victorious son; so its irrefutably natural and nothing great; that you’re exactly my spotlessly unbiased and surreally panoramic; duplicate,

You’ve taken my very own compassionate heart O! unshakable son; so its irrefutably natural and nothing great; that you’re exactly my adorably sensitive and ubiquitously indomitable; duplicate,

So whereas it was absolutely natural and nothing great that you were my exactly astounding duplicate O! heavenly son;

The greatest of all virtues; the greatest of all gifts; the greatest of all endowment; the greatest of all power; the greatest of all virility; the greatest of all divinity; was infact given to you by the Omniscient Lord; who miraculously blessed you and every organism alike with the pricelessly impregnable religion of “Humanity” to symbiotically survive for an infinite more of your destined lifetimes…

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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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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VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator

Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!

It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold
Our little yearly lovesome frolic feast,
Cinuolo's birth-night, Cinicello's own,
That makes gruff January grin perforce!
For too contagious grows the mirth, the warmth
Escaping from so many hearts at once—
When the good wife, buxom and bonny yet,
Jokes the hale grandsire,—such are just the sort
To go off suddenly,—he who hides the key
O' the box beneath his pillow every night,—
Which box may hold a parchment (someone thinks)
Will show a scribbled something like a name
"Cinino, Ciniccino," near the end,
"To whom I give and I bequeath my lands,
"Estates, tenements, hereditaments,
"When I decease as honest grandsire ought."
Wherefore—yet this one time again perhaps—
Shan't my Orvieto fuddle his old nose!
Then, uncles, one or the other, well i' the world,
May—drop in, merely?—trudge through rain and wind,
Rather! The smell-feasts rouse them at the hint
There's cookery in a certain dwelling-place!
Gossips, too, each with keepsake in his poke,
Will pick the way, thrid lane by lantern-light,
And so find door, put galligaskin off
At entry of a decent domicile
Cornered in snug Condotti,—all for love,
All to crush cup with Cinucciatolo!

Well,
Let others climb the heights o' the court, the camp!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Worst Joke Ever

You see there's this cat burglar who can't see in the dark.
He lays his bets on 8 more lives, walks into a bar.
Slips on the 8 ball, falls on his knife.
Says, "I don't know what I've done, but it doesn't feel right!"
Some things don't hold up over the course of a lifetime,
When's the first time you heard that one, 1954?
Get to the punch line. fall to the floor.
Give me a minute and I'll tell you the setup for
The worst joke ever, I never
I'll tell you my version of the greatest life story
Don't bore me
Now I am floating,
I feel released.
The moorings have been dropped,
The weights unleashed.
Everything is crystalline, simple and free.
The crime of good men who can't wrestle with change,
Or are too afraid to face this life's misjudged unknowns
You're not hurting anybody else's chances,
But you're disfiguring your own.
Give me a minute and I'll tell you the setup for
The worst joke ever, I never
I'll tell you my version of the greatest life story
Don't bore me, I NEVER
Give me a minute and I'll tell you the setup
You see there's this feeling that I've heard this one before

song performed by REM
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
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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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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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King's Highway

Ugh Yeah You should really turn this up
Natural Bridge and King's Highway
as loud as possible (that's what I'm talkin about)
Natural Bridge and King's Highway yeah
ask em' Where you headed?
Natural Bridge and King's Highway (yeah)
Natural Bridge and King's Highway
Come one with it
It's me and my derrty we just got back home
in the blue grey Bently with the cellular phone
Callin' up the 'tics time to get it jumpin'
smoke comin' out the sunroof to let em know we're comin'
Errebody lookin' if you're jealous turn around
21 inches keep me further from the ground
I'm gettin good grip from the Dunlop Tires
The F1's bumpin' but I need the volume higher
Cause there ain't no way get on the basement beat hits
J.E. and Wally got an wanna get some
I heard them haters talkin' but what am I to do?
I'm the men that little hate the Bill Clinton of the Lou'
Picked up some shorties on Skinker towards roastin'
Headed for the castlelot muskada got me croachin
Bently kinda crowded ol car was leanin' back
Shandra watchin' TV with two gurlies on their lap
Martin Luther King the setence kinda dead
Made a left on King's Highway
Natural Bridge is just ahead
So fresh and so clean
U City representin'
the St Lunatics on castlelot set
(Chorus)
Where you headed?
Natural Bridge and King's Highway
Natural Bridge and King's Highway
Come on with it
Where you headed?
Natural Bridge and King's Highway
(Basement beats gon' make it rock the tic's gon make it rock)
Natural Bridge and King's Highway
come on with it
Now rollin' with the tics you know we never bored
show me another click when more points scored
we walk around with criminals a bunch of big gorillas
My derrty Murphy Lee he's a teenage lady killer
Keyjuan is on my left side dancin' with this freak
The way she clap that *** make my knees get weak
JD is the white guy people think he's funny
Been down long time way before we had the money
But now we collectin' dollars from platinum to white gold
Swervin' in this Bentley and ain't got no place to go

[...] Read more

song performed by Nelly
Added by Lucian Velea
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V. Count Guido Franceschini

Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Interpretation of Nature and

I.

MAN, being the servant and interpreter of Nature, can do and understand so much and so much only as he has observed in fact or in thought of the course of nature: beyond this he neither knows anything nor can do anything.


II.

Neither the naked hand nor the understanding left to itself can effect much. It is by instruments and helps that the work is done, which are as much wanted for the understanding as for the hand. And as the instruments of the hand either give motion or guide it, so the instruments of the mind supply either suggestions for the understanding or cautions.

III.

Human knowledge and human power meet in one; for where the cause is not known the effect cannot be produced. Nature to be commanded must be obeyed; and that which in contemplation is as the cause is in operation as the rule.

IV.

Towards the effecting of works, all that man can do is to put together or put asunder natural bodies. The rest is done by nature working within.

V.

The study of nature with a view to works is engaged in by the mechanic, the mathematician, the physician, the alchemist, and the magician; but by all (as things now are) with slight endeavour and scanty success.

VI.

It would be an unsound fancy and self-contradictory to expect that things which have never yet been done can be done except by means which have never yet been tried.

VII.

The productions of the mind and hand seem very numerous in books and manufactures. But all this variety lies in an exquisite subtlety and derivations from a few things already known; not in the number of axioms.

VIII.

Moreover the works already known are due to chance and experiment rather than to sciences; for the sciences we now possess are merely systems for the nice ordering and setting forth of things already invented; not methods of invention or directions for new works.

IX.

The cause and root of nearly all evils in the sciences is this -- that while we falsely admire and extol the powers of the human mind we neglect to seek for its true helps.

X.

The subtlety of nature is greater many times over than the subtlety of the senses and understanding; so that all those specious meditations, speculations, and glosses in which men indulge are quite from the purpose, only there is no one by to observe it.

XI.

As the sciences which we now have do not help us in finding out new works, so neither does the logic which we now have help us in finding out new sciences.

XII.

The logic now in use serves rather to fix and give stability to the errors which have their foundation in commonly received notions than to help the search after truth. So it does more harm than good.

XIII.

[...] Read more

poem by Sir Francis Bacon
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Natural Gift

See that girl walkin down the street
She looks like a prima donna
Shes a star in her head and the worlds at her feet
She looks at you twice and your heart skips a beat
She didnt learn it at high school or from a glossy magazine
You see shes a natural, she gotta natural gift
You gotta rise above your stupidity
Youre dumb but dont give in
You gotta rise above your station
Discover whats within
And with some luck and dedication and some careful manipulation
Everybody needs some inspiration
Everybody needs some motivation
Mix it up with some imagination
And use your natural gifts, you gotta natural gift
You got natural gifts
Ah, hey, hey, hey, ah, hey, hey
And use your natural gifts, you got natural gifts
You dont have to be a genius to find
All the hidden potential deep in your mind
You dont have to know about nuclear physics
Know all the formulas and vital statistics
You dont have to be an intellectual, you dont have to be a scientist
To use your natural gifts, you got natural gifts, yeh
Use your natural gifts, you got natural gifts
You gotta stop this depression youre in now
Stop this emotional rift, you need a psychological lift now
Everybody needs some inspiration, everybody needs some motivation
Mix it up with some imagination and use your natural gifts
There are bad people, mad people, bitter people, scared people
Wanna put you down and keep you in your place
But you gotta chance to break out, you gotta chance to get out
And use your natural gifts

song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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Lies

Baby
What do I do
Playing my tune for you
Just to get you in the mood
Everybodys going to hollywood
Youre driving me mad
But Im smiling to the crowd instead
A lot of money is at stake, this is a hit and thats a fake
This is what you mean to me
This is what they all should see
Make a make up in a foolish style
Telling the truth by making a big lie
When I come, I come but nothings at ease
Breaking up the whole is a modern disease
Maybe you think tomorrows just a joke
Its a joke after joke after joke after joke
My love
Everythings an interview
And nothings really new
And everybodys looking for clues and you know what to do with a clue
My love
Get ready for the show
Theyre waiting and they will never go
This night is just a go
And its only for show
Dig that deal and be a millionaire
Drinking cocktails in the stratosphere
Getting jetlagged with my business friends in these supersonic wonderlands
Theres a flicker on the graphic display, first hes smiling then hes fading away
Maybe he thinks tomorrows just a joke
Its a joke after joke after joke after joke
Gold/1984

song performed by Alphaville
Added by Lucian Velea
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Whos Been Writing On The Wall Again

Someone keeps on telling me how much he loves me so
Writes it on the wall outside so I will always know
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Lori, I love you , lori, I love you
Evry evening I come home , its waiting there for me
Three little words, one little voice , someone I cant see
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Lori , I love you , lori , I love you
Is he tall or is he small
I wonder what his game is
I wish hes write it on the wall
And tell me what his name is
I dont know if his hair is blonde or if his eyes are blue
But I know that when I meet him ,Im gonna love him too
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Lori , I love you , lori , I love you
Is he tall or is he small
I wonder what his game is
I wish hed write it on the wall
And tell me what his name is
I dont know if his hair is blonde or if his eyes are blue
But I know that when meet him , Im gonna love him too
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Lori , I love you , lori , I love you
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again (fade)

song performed by Bee Gees
Added by Lucian Velea
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Something

I'm writing in hope for something with sweet melody,
A rhythm that can be felt,
A beauty that can be read.
With words flowing like water over rocks,
Steadily without fault or obstruction.
A liquid in its purest state.

I'm writing in hope for something with sweet remembrance,
Like the scent of falling rain,
Or the memorable sound of a mothers cooing voice.
Something so memorable,
The slightest reminder sends you back to the exact moment,
Replaying in unbroken pattern of mind.

I'm writing in hope for something spectacular to happen,
For my words to form a feeling so deep they hurt,
For each image to be as clear as these words on this paper.
I want you to feel what I feel,
A feeling of lonely discontent,
Sitting alone in my own my own world, writing away.

I am writing this in hope for something to stick with you,
A message or a meaning that I've hidden inside a syllable,
A voice of reason that you have kept from yourself,
Silenced with the voice of your shallow desires.
A dream that you once had forgotten,
Lost in the darkness of the night.

I am writing this in hope for something to be brought to light.
Maybe a buried thought that you wish you never had,
Or an inner conflict that you hadn't noticed but feel tearing apart your skin,
Even an aspiration you promised to live up to but left to die.
Something so lost in the world of your mind,
Swallowed by deep chasms of thought and memory.

I am writing this in hope of telling a story.
The story of a world that can only be imagined in a dark room,
Hidden from the world and apart from anything else.
The story of a broken heart of a shortened life,
The story of the silent cries of a lost soul reaching for sanity.
My own story, perhaps, or even yours, is this your story?

I am writing in hope of making your thoughts and feelings dance,
A slow and steady music in the background,
Propelling your eyes left to right and back again.
Following the steps of each word,
The flow off each line and stanza.
An endless waltz with the reader and the writer, will you dance with me?

I am writing in hope of making an impression on your mind,

[...] Read more

poem by Bethany Maxwell
Added by Poetry Lover
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Writing On The Wall

Words and music by rick nielsen
All right, I saw the writing on the wall.
All night, I saw the writing on the wall,
I saw the writing on the wall.
Lo and behold, heard it on the radio.
It was a long time comin, but it sounds so sweet, come on, man, get off my back.
All right, I saw the writing on the wall.
All night, I saw the writing on the wall,
I saw the writing on the wall.
In the midwest and in the east.
Canada, southwest, around the world,
L.a., tokyo, sounds so sweet,
Come on honey, get on your feet.
All right, I saw the writing on the wall.
All night, I saw the writing on the wall,
I saw the writing on the wall.
The words were oh, so...
The words were oh, so clear.
All right, I saw the writing on the wall.
All night, I saw the writing on the wall,
I saw the writing on the wall.
Lo and behold, heard it on the radio.
It was a long time comin, but it sounds so sweet, come on, man, get off my back.
Saw it at the airport, it was on t.v.
Read it in a magazine, runnin down the street.
Makes no sense, but I hope its gonna last,
The next big thing, I really gotta laugh.
Worked and slaved and played like hell,
Everybodys goin crazy, youre the last to know.
Cant explain it, still a joke to me,
Maybe Im naive, cause its so plain to see.
Its right in front of your face, man.
Its right in front of your face, man.
Played like hell, whoa!
Played like hell, whoa!

song performed by Cheap Trick
Added by Lucian Velea
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You Think Its A Joke

You thinks its a joke, i find no reason,
Why i should laugh at you.
You think its a joke to take advantage
Of the life that supports you.
Push and push. suppress the weaker ones
You find two words, with emotions you are numb.
You think the world revolves around the things you buy.
I think of lonliness that you will die.
I want to defend defenseless, let the meek inherit the earth.
And your intelligence give you nothing to mask your ignorance.
If theres a god above to judge whats right and wrong.
Your careless attitude will soon be gone.
You thinks its a joke, i find no reason,
Why i should laugh at you.
You think its a joke to take advantage
Of the life that supports you.
You think its a joke
You think its a joke
I want to defend defenseless, let the meek inherit the earth.
And your intelligence give you nothing to mask your ignorance.
If theres a god above to judge whats right and wrong.
Your careless attitude will soon be gone.
You think the world revolves around the things you buy.
I think of lonliness that you will die. you will...
You thinks its a joke, i find no reason,
Why i should laugh at you.
You think its a joke to take advantage
Of the life that supports you.
'cause i find no reason.
Why i should laugh at you.
You think its a joke!

song performed by Goldfinger
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Joke's On Me

The old days were no fun
Im not sorry that they're gone
I don't miss them and I won't miss them
and it was always wrong
Everything I've ever done
From the beginning and to the ending
and things never got better, it seems like forever
Since we had fun or maybe I never have fun
And this whole time! I've been around
One minute up!
and a hundred down uhhh ohhh
Keep on laughing, Keep attacking
I'll show you what it means
To keep on lying, Keep denying
That there's nothing good in me
I'm not worthless, I know you heard this
My life's a joke and the joke's on me
The joke's on me
You were always lame, a headache and a pain
I don't miss you and I won't miss you
I tried not to get bitter but I was such a quitter
Oh yeah I had dreams but they were only ever bad dreams
And this whole time! I've been around
One minute up!
and a hundred down uhhh ohhh
Keep on laughing, Keep attacking
I'll show you what it means
To keep on lying, Keep denying
That there's nothing good in me
I'm not worthless, I know you heard this
My life's a joke and the joke's on me
The joke's on me, The joke's on me...
Well there never were any good old days
Looking back I'm still amazed
How everything went wrong in every way
There were no good old days
Well there never were any good old days
Looking back I'm still amazed
That everything went wrong in every way
There were no good old days
[2x]
And this whole time! I've been around
One minute up!
and a hundred down uhhh ohhh
Keep on laughing, Keep attacking
I'll show you what it means
To keep on lying, Keep denying
That there's nothing good in me
I'm not worthless, I know you heard this
My life's a joke and the joke's on me...

song performed by Reel Big Fish
Added by Lucian Velea
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Those Who Declare Themselves Proud and Beautiful

They don't speak to them
Because of what was said
To a family member,
Associated to a relative of a friend.
And that friend is rumored to be gay
On the down low and cheating
With the first cousin's lesbian wife.

And the commuters could care less
About any of this as they trespass
To collect and run.
This has all been a setup...
To leave the inner cities,
As a place they do not wish to live
But leech!

Gang wars on turf those fighting don't own.
Drug confiscations done...
While everyone is spied upon!
Either filmed by street cameras,
Or illegal phone tappings...
By those who satisfy their justified immorality!

And the commuters could care less
About any of this as they trespass
To collect and run.
This has all been a setup...
To leave the inner cities,
As a place they do not wish to live
But leech!

Every street has at least one church,
To praise something that's said to represent 'God'.
And no one thinks it strange or odd,
These areas of high crime produce higher illiterate rates.
With illegitimacies of all kinds taking place...
And fostered!
Those elected to terms take turns debating fates.
Handing out pamphlets to those who can not read,
Write or recite a word understood!
But it's 'all good' in these depressed neighborhoods.
Since the people aren't aware,
Just how valued their presence is there!
They are used to fund all of the profit to them...
For them never comes!
But supports activities for those 'assigned'
To enrich their lives with grants and subsidies!

And the commuters could care less
About any of this as they trespass

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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