We were now arrived at the close of our solitary journeyings along the St. Joseph's trail.
quote by Francis Parkman
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Joseph’s Dreams and Reuben's Brethren [A Recital in Six Chapters]
CHAPTER I
I cannot blame old Israel yet,
For I am not a sage—
I shall not know until I get
The son of my old age.
The mysteries of this Vale of Tears
We will perchance explain
When we have lived a thousand years
And died and come again.
No doubt old Jacob acted mean
Towards his father’s son;
But other hands were none too clean,
When all is said and done.
There were some things that had to be
In those old days, ’tis true—
But with old Jacob’s history
This tale has nought to do.
(They had to keep the birth-rate up,
And populate the land—
They did it, too, by simple means
That we can’t understand.
The Patriarchs’ way of fixing things
Would make an awful row,
And Sarah’s plain, straightforward plan
Would never answer now.)
his is a tale of simple men
And one precocious boy—
A spoilt kid, and, as usual,
His father’s hope and joy
(It mostly is the way in which
The younger sons behave
That brings the old man’s grey hairs down
In sorrow to the grave.)
Old Jacob loved the whelp, and made,
While meaning to be kind,
A coat of many colours that
Would strike a nigger blind!
It struck the brethren green, ’twas said—
I’d take a pinch of salt
Their coats had coloured patches too—
But that was not their fault.
Young Joseph had a soft thing on,
And, humbugged from his birth,
You may depend he worked the thing
For all that it was worth.
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Lawson
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L'envoi
There's a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield,
And the ricks stand gray to the sun,
Singing: -- "Over then, come over, for the bee has quit the clover,
And your English summer's done."
You have heard the beat of the off-shore wind,
And the thresh of the deep-sea rain;
You have heard the song -- how long! how long?
Pull out on the trail again!
Ha' done with the Tents of Shem, dear lass,
We've seen the seasons through,
And it's time to turn on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,
Pull out, pull out, on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new.
It's North you may run to the rime-ringed sun,
Or South to the blind Horn's hate;
Or East all the way into Mississippi Bay,
Or West to the Golden Gate;
Where the blindest bluffs hold good, dear lass,
And the wildest tales are true,
And the men bulk big on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,
And life runs large on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new.
The days are sick and cold, and the skies are gray and old,
And the twice-breathed airs blow damp;
And I'd sell my tired soul for the bucking beam-sea roll
Of a black Bilbao tramp;
With her load-line over her hatch, dear lass,
And a drunken Dago crew,
And her nose held down on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail
From Cadiz Bar on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new.
There be triple ways to take, of the eagle or the snake,
Or the way of a man with a maid;
But the fairest way to me is a ship's upon the sea
In the heel of the North-East Trade.
Can you hear the crash on her bows, dear lass,
And the drum of the racing screw,
As she ships it green on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,
As she lifts and 'scends on the Long Trail --
the trail that is always new?
See the shaking funnels roar, with the Peter at the fore,
And the fenders grind and heave,
And the derricks clack and grate, as the tackle hooks the crate,
And the fall-rope whines through the sheave;
It's "Gang-plank up and in," dear lass,
It's "Hawsers warp her through!"
And it's "All clear aft" on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,
We're backing down on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new.
[...] Read more
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Long Trail
There's a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield,
And the ricks stand grey to the sun,
Singing: "Over then, come over, for the bee has quit the dover,
"And your English summer's done."
You have heard the beat of the off-shore wind,
And the thresh of the deep-sea rain;
You have heard the song -- how long? how long?
Pull out on the trail again!
Ha' done with the Tents of Shem, dear lass,
We've seen the seasons through,
And it's time to turn the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,
Pull out, pull out, on the Long Trail-the trail that is always new!
It's North you may run to the rime-ringed sun
Or South to the blind Hom's hate;
Or East all the way into Mississippi Bay,
Or West to the Golden Gate --
Where the blindest bluffs hold good, dear lass,
And the wildest tales are true,
And the men bulk big on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,
And life runs large on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new.
The days are sick and cold, and the skies are grey and old
And the twice-breathed airs blow damp;
And I'd sell my tired soul for the bucking beam-sea roll
Of a black Bilbao tramp,
With her load-line over her hatch, dear lass,
And a drunken Dago crew,
And her nose held down on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail
From Cadiz south on the Long Trail-the trail that is always new.
There be triple ways to take, of the eagle or the snake,
Or the way of a man with a maid;
But the sweetest way to me is a ship's upon the sea
In the heel of the North-East Trade.
Can you hear the crash on her brows, dear lass.
And the drum of the racing screw,
As she ships it green on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,
As she lifts and 'scends on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new?
See the shaking funnels roar, with the Peter at the fore,
And the fenders grind and heave,
And the derricks clack and grate, as the tackle hooks the crate,
And the fall-rope whines through the sheave;
It's "Gang-plank up and in," dear lass,
It's "Hawsers warp her through!"
And it's "All clear aft" on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,
We're backing down on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new.
O the mutter overside, when the port-fog holds us tied,
[...] Read more
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Joseph
With many children was the Patriarch blest,
Yet Joseph he preferr'd before the rest:
To tend his flock was all the youth's employ
To serve his God and Sire his only joy:
Jacob of his lov'd consort now depriv'd,
Beheld her graces in the son reviv'd;
And all the love he had to Rachel gone,
Was by degrees transferr'd unto her son.
A silken vest, that cast a various shade,
He fondly to the boy a present made:
Here vivid scarlet strove with lively green,
The purple, blended with the white, was seen,
And azure spots were interspers'd between.
This gaudy robe (the basis of his woe,
The source from which his future sorrows flow)
Kindled his elder brethren's wakeful pride:
(When envy mounts, affection will subside)
Their dawning hate in vain to hide they strove,
Each look too plain confess'd expiring love.
The sun obliquely shot his humid beams,
When Joseph wak'd, one morn, and told his dreams:
'My brethren, we, methought, were on a plain,
'And binding into sheaves the yellow grain;
'When mine arose; your's form'd a circle round,
'And reverently bow'd low to the ground.'
And this each face the innate rage express'd:
And Joseph thus, indignant, they address'd.
'Shalt thou indeed a sov'reign to us be?
'And shall we fall as suppliants on the knee?
'Vain boy! renounce those hopes---hence to the field
'A shepherd's crook, not sceptre, shalt thou wield.'
Again, when slumbers stole upon his eyes,
And active Fancy bade the vision rise,,
And crystal moon respectful homage pay.
This on the morn the wond'ring youth disclos'd
When Jacob the prediction thus oppos'd:
'Shall I, thine aged sire, whose silver hairs
'And arms unnerv'd proclaim my length of years,
'Prostrate on earth myself thy vassel own?
'And shall thy mother bow before her son?
'Ambition, Joseph, has thy heart possess'd,
'And dreams illusive rise from such a guest.'
But yet he wonder'd what might be design'd,
And the presaging visions treasur'd in his mind.
It chanc'd his elder sons at early dawn
[...] Read more
poem by Ann Eliza Bleecker from The Posthumous Works of Ann Eliza Bleecker
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Killer
So you want
To be free
To live your life
The way you want to be
Will you give if we cry?
Will we live, yeah
Or will we die?
Oh
Jaded hearts (hearts)
Heal with time
Shoot that love
So we can
Stop the bleeding
Solitary brother (solitary brother)
Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
Solitary sister (solitary sister)
Is there still a part of you that wants to give?
Solitary brother (solitary brother)
Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
Solitary sister (solitary sister)
Is there still a part of you that wants to give?
If we try
And live your lives
The way you wanna be
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Solitary brother (solitary brother)
Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
Solitary sister (solitary sister)
Is there still a part of you that wants to give?
Solitary brother (solitary brother)
Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
Solitary sister (solitary sister)
Is there still a part of you that wants to give?
Yeah, yeah
Racism in amongst the future kings can only lead to no good and
Besides, all our sons and daughters already know how that feels
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Love, love, love, yeah
song performed by Sugababes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Preparatory Meditations - Second Series: 7
(Psalms 105:17. He sent a Man before Them, even Joseph, who was Sold, etc.)
All dull, my Lord, my spirits flat, and dead,
All water-soaked and sapless to the skin.
Oh! Screw me up and make my spirit's bed
Thy quickening virtue, for my ink is dim,
My pencil blunt. Doth Joseph type out Thee?
Heralds of angels sing out, 'Bow the knee.'
Is Joseph's glorious shine a type of Thee?
How bright art Thou? He envied was as well.
And so was Thou. He's stripped and picked, poor he,
Into the pit. And so was Thou. They shell
Thee of Thy kernel. He by Judah's sold
For twenty bits; thirty for Thee he'd told.
Joseph was tempted by his mistress vile.
Thou by the devil, but both shame the foe.
Joseph was cast into the jail awhile.
And so was Thou. Sweet apples mellow so.
Joseph did from his jail to glory run.
Thou from death's pallet rose like morning sun.
Joseph lays in against the famine, and
Thou dost prepare the bread of life for Thine,
He bought with corn for Pharaoh th' men and land.
Thou with Thy bread mak'st such themselves consign
Over to Thee, that eat it. Joseph makes
His brethren bow before him. Thine too quake.
Joseph constrains his brethren till their sins
Do gall their souls. Repentance babbles fresh.
Thou treatest sinners till repentance springs,
Then with him send'st a Benjamin-like mess.
Joseph doth cheer his humble brethren. Thou
Dost stud with joy the mourning saints that bow.
Joseph's bright shine th' Eleven Tribes must preach.
And Thine Apostles now eleven, Thine.
They bear his presents to his friends: Thine reach
Thine unto Thine, thus now behold a shine.
How hast Thou penciled out, my Lord, most bright
Thy glorious image here, on Joseph's light.
This I bewail in me under this shine,
To see so dull a color in my skin.
Lord, lay Thy brightsome colors on me Thine.
Scour Thou my pipes, then play Thy tunes therein.
I will not hang my harp in willows by,
While Thy sweet praise my tunes doth glorify.
poem by Edward Taylor
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The Ballad Of The Northern Lights
One of the Down and Out--that's me. Stare at me well, ay, stare!
Stare and shrink--say! you wouldn't think that I was a millionaire.
Look at my face, it's crimped and gouged--one of them death-mask things;
Don't seem the sort of man, do I, as might be the pal of kings?
Slouching along in smelly rags, a bleary-eyed, no-good bum;
A knight of the hollow needle, pard, spewed from the sodden slum.
Look me all over from head to foot; how much would you think I was worth?
A dollar? a dime? a nickel? Why, I'm the wealthest man on earth.
No, don't you think that I'm off my base. You'll sing a different tune
If only you'll let me spin my yarn. Come over to this saloon;
Wet my throat--it's as dry as chalk, and seeing as how it's you,
I'll tell the tale of a Northern trail, and so help me God, it's true.
I'll tell of the howling wilderness and the haggard Arctic heights,
Of a reckless vow that I made, and how I staked the Northern Lights.
Remember the year of the Big Stampede and the trail of Ninety-eight,
When the eyes of the world were turned to the North, and the hearts of men elate;
Hearts of the old dare-devil breed thrilled at the wondrous strike,
And to every man who could hold a pan came the message, "Up and hike".
Well, I was there with the best of them, and I knew I would not fail.
You wouldn't believe it to see me now; but wait till you've heard my tale.
You've read of the trail of Ninety-eight, but its woe no man may tell;
It was all of a piece and a whole yard wide, and the name of the brand was "Hell".
We heard the call and we staked our all; we were plungers playing blind,
And no man cared how his neighbor fared, and no man looked behind;
For a ruthless greed was born of need, and the weakling went to the wall,
And a curse might avail where a prayer would fail, and the gold lust crazed us all.
Bold were we, and they called us three the "Unholy Trinity";
There was Ole Olson, the Sailor Swede, and the Dago Kid and me.
We were the discards of the pack, the foreloopers of Unrest,
Reckless spirits of fierce revolt in the ferment of the West.
We were bound to win and we revelled in the hardships of the way.
We staked our ground and our hopes were crowned, and we hoisted out the pay.
We were rich in a day beyond our dreams, it was gold from the grass-roots down;
But we weren't used to such sudden wealth, and there was the siren town.
We were crude and careless frontiersmen, with much in us of the beast;
We could bear the famine worthily, but we lost our heads at the feast.
The town looked mighty bright to us, with a bunch of dust to spend,
And nothing was half too good them days, and everyone was our friend.
Wining meant more than mining then, and life was a dizzy whirl,
Gambling and dropping chunks of gold down the neck of a dance-hall girl;
Till we went clean mad, it seems to me, and we squandered our last poke,
And we sold our claim, and we found ourselves one bitter morning--broke.
The Dago Kid he dreamed a dream of his mother's aunt who died--
In the dawn-light dim she came to him, and she stood by his bedside,
And she said: "Go forth to the highest North till a lonely trail ye find;
[...] Read more
poem by Robert William Service
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Joseph Lee's Birthday Song
IT IS HE
ALL THE WAY FROM THE KOREAS
JOSEPH LEE! ! ! ! AHHHHHHHHHHHH
Joseph it's okay, you suck at starcraft,
Because hey, you've got better ways to spend your life, like playing WOW
Joseph I'm so sorry, about your calculator, that made you lose points
chorus:
O you lost points, O you lost points, O you lost points, O you lost points
O so many points, O you lost points, and they're never coming back to you
But Joseph just remember when you're feeling sad and you'll be glad
It's not about the points, it's about the knowledge that you gained inside
To retain
Josephuuuu, for you birthday, would you like,10 million rupees
Well too bad, but you get to teach me more Korean, for
Your birthday. And playm e starcraft
GG! ...... GG!
Joseph remember that time, I got you that wrap, with everything
Yes everything. You told me everything. and yeah
I'm a good Chinese brother. you yelled out to me one night
'WHERE'S MY CHINESE FRIEND? ! '
I'm your Chinese brother and lifelong friend
Joseph, if this seems painful, to you, just remember
When we were running and you weren't even half-way
you weren't half-way your weren't even half-way there
I'll never forget you, you're the only one who
has slept in my bed besides me, and that's really weird
O Joseph, you taught us to say chugaling
O Joseph, O Joseph, that makes us want to sing
Chorus x 2
HAPPY BIRTHDAY ^_^!
poem by David Knox
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The Lone Trail
Ye who know the Lone Trail fain would follow it,
Though it lead to glory or the darkness of the pit.
Ye who take the Lone Trail, bid your love good-by;
The Lone Trail, the Lone Trail follow till you die.
The trails of the world be countless, and most of the trails be tried;
You tread on the heels of the many, till you come where the ways divide;
And one lies safe in the sunlight, and the other is dreary and wan,
Yet you look aslant at the Lone Trail, and the Lone Trail lures you on.
And somehow you're sick of the highway, with its noise and its easy needs,
And you seek the risk of the by-way, and you reck not where it leads.
And sometimes it leads to the desert, and the togue swells out of the mouth,
And you stagger blind to the mirage, to die in the mocking drouth.
And sometimes it leads to the mountain, to the light of the lone camp-fire,
And you gnaw your belt in the anguish of hunger-goded desire.
And sometimes it leads to the Southland, to the swamp where the orchid glows,
And you rave to your grave with the fever, and they rob the corpse for its clothes.
And sometimes it leads to the Northland, and the scurvy softens your bones,
And your flesh dints in like putty, and you spit out your teeth like stones.
And sometimes it leads to a coral reef in the wash of a weedy sea,
And you sit and stare at the empty glare where the gulls wait greedily.
And sometimes it leads to an Arctic trail, and the snows where your torn feet freeze,
And you whittle away the useless clay, and crawl on your hands and knees.
Often it leads to the dead-pit; always it leads to pain;
By the bones of your brothers ye know it, but oh, to follow you're fain.
By your bones they will follow behind you, till the ways of the world are made plain.
Bid good-by to sweetheart, bid good-by to friend;
The Lone Trail, the Lone Trail follow to the end.
Tarry not, and fear not, chosen of the true;
Lover of the Lone Trail, the Lone Trail waits for you.
poem by Robert William Service
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Solitary Man
Melinda was mine
til the time
That I found her
Holding jim
Loving him
Then sue came along
Loved me strong
Thats what I thought
Me and sue
But that died too
Dont know that I will
But until I can find me
A girl wholl stay
And wont play games behind me
Ill be what I am
A solitary man
Solitary man
Ive had it to here
Bein where
Loves a small world
Part-time thing
Paper ring
I know its been done
Having one
Girl who loves you
Right or wrong
Weak or strong
Dont know that I will
But until I can find me
The girl wholl stay
And wont play games behind me
Ill be what I am
A solitary man
Solitary man
solitary man
solitary man
solitary man
solitary man
solitary man
solitary
man
song performed by H.I.M.
Added by Lucian Velea
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You Watched It Close Under Microscope
You watched it close under microscope.
Closer than anything you watched most
You watched it close under microscope.
Closer than anything you watched most
And now you don't believe,
What you see.
You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close...
And still you don't believe,
What's there to see.
You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close...
And still you don't believe,
What's there to see.
You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close...
And...
Not to believe.
You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
And still you don't believe.
You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
And there to plainly see.
You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
And still you don't believe.
What's there to see.
You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
And there to plainly see.
But you can't believe it masked.
You watched it close under microscope.
You watched it close under microscope.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Solitary One
You know it gets too much and sometimes she cries like a baby
But shes almost certain itll pass when she becomes a lady
But while shes still a young girl love is avoiding her
And thank God for the radio and the color tv, oh, oh, oh, oh
Heroes are hard to find in the cold world but not in her mind
And shes talking to jesus during the radio station breaks
And shes on her knees, pourin on her knees
Asking how the world can be so cold to her
And she listens to the records, playing on the radio
And shes falling in love with a singer
Now shes feelin better and shes feelin good
But shes coming down by the time the song is over
And she starts feelin lonely
Feelin shes the only ordinary solitary one
All alone the solitary one
And hurrying home oh God its been one of those bad days
But with a flick of a switch and a twist of the dial
She gets love on the airwaves
And they send her favorite lovers to keep her satisfied
And shes talkin to jesus during the radio station breaks
And shes on her knees falling on her knees
Asking how the world can be so cold to her
And she listens to the records playing on the radio and shes fallin
In love with a singer
Now shes feelin better cause shes feelin good
But shes comin down by the time the song is over
And she starts feelin lonely
Feelin shes the only ordinary the solitary one all alone solitary one
And shes on her knees pouring on her knees
Asking how the world can be so cold to her
And she starts feelin lonely
Feelin shes the only ordinary solitary one
All alone the solitary one
All alone the solitary one
All alone the solitary one
All alone the solitary one
song performed by Rick Springfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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Peter Bell, A Tale
PROLOGUE
There's something in a flying horse,
There's something in a huge balloon;
But through the clouds I'll never float
Until I have a little Boat,
Shaped like the crescent-moon.
And now I 'have' a little Boat,
In shape a very crescent-moon
Fast through the clouds my boat can sail;
But if perchance your faith should fail,
Look up--and you shall see me soon!
The woods, my Friends, are round you roaring,
Rocking and roaring like a sea;
The noise of danger's in your ears,
And ye have all a thousand fears
Both for my little Boat and me!
Meanwhile untroubled I admire
The pointed horns of my canoe;
And, did not pity touch my breast,
To see how ye are all distrest,
Till my ribs ached, I'd laugh at you!
Away we go, my Boat and I--
Frail man ne'er sate in such another;
Whether among the winds we strive,
Or deep into the clouds we dive,
Each is contented with the other.
Away we go--and what care we
For treasons, tumults, and for wars?
We are as calm in our delight
As is the crescent-moon so bright
Among the scattered stars.
Up goes my Boat among the stars
Through many a breathless field of light,
Through many a long blue field of ether,
Leaving ten thousand stars beneath her:
Up goes my little Boat so bright!
The Crab, the Scorpion, and the Bull--
We pry among them all; have shot
High o'er the red-haired race of Mars,
Covered from top to toe with scars;
Such company I like it not!
[...] Read more
poem by William Wordsworth
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Close To You
Ah, ladies and gentlemen, I dont know if you realize it,
But tonight youre in for a special treat. no, no, no, not that, not that!
You only get that treat on full moons. besides, I know theres a lot of young people here,
And I would want anybody to...
Last time it happened, grown men where weeping. policemen where turning in their badges.
Oh, I get, I get, everyone was intimidated tonight by all the security precautions, oh.
Well, just remember their motto is protect and serve?
I wanna get
Close to you baby like black on white,
Close to you baby like the coldest of ice,
Close to you baby like a siamese twin,
Close to you baby like Im feeling all right.
I wanna get
Close to you baby,
Well, close to you baby,
Close to you baby,
I dont know what to say or do.
I wanna get
Close to you baby like the sight of your eye?
Close to you baby like the heat is to fire,
Close to you baby close as I can get,
Close to you baby like water is wet.
I wanna get
Close to you baby.
I said close to you baby.
Close to you baby.
Dont know what to say or do.
I wanna get
Close to you till Im feeling all right,
Close to you gonna love you all night,
Close to you in new york city,
I love you so much, woman, you know its a pity.
I wanna get
Close to you baby.
I said close to you baby.
Close to you baby.
Dont know what to say or do.
Well
I wanna closer and closer babe
Closer and closer babe
Closer and closer babe
Closer and closer babe
I wanna close to you babe
That I dont know what to say or do.
Well, closer and closer babe
Closer and closer babe
Closer and closer babe
Closer and closer babe
I wanna close to you babe
Oh babe! we love you!
[...] Read more
song performed by Doors
Added by Lucian Velea
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Killer
Brother
Sister
It's the loneliness thats the killer
So you want
To be free
To live your life
The way you want to be
Will you give
If we cry
Will we live
Or will we die
Jaded hearts
Heal with time
Shoot that love
So we can
Stop the bleeding
Solitary brother
Is there still a part of you that wants to live
Solitary sister
Is there still a part of you that wants to give
Solitary brother
Is there still a part of you that wants to live
Solitary sister
Is there still a part of you that wants to give
If we try
And live our lives
The way we wanna be
Yeah
Brother brother
Sister sister
Brother brother brother brother brother
There's no other love There's no other love There's no other love
There is no other love no other love like ours
There's no other love There's no other love There's no other love
There is no other love no other love like ours
There's no other love There's no other love There's no other love
There's no other love There's no other love There's no other love
There is no love
Solitary brother
Is there still a part of you that wants to live
Solitary sister
Is there still a part of you that wants to give
Solitary brother
Solitary Sister
Is there still a part of you that wants to give
Racism in among future kings can only lead to no good
Besides all our sons and daughters already know how that feels
song performed by Seal from Debut
Added by Lucian Velea
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Killer/papa Was A Rollin Stone
So you want to be free
To live your life the way you wanna be
Will you give if we cry
Will we live or will we die
Tainted hearts heal with time
Shoot bad love so we can
Stop the bleeding
Solitary brother,
Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
Solitary sister,
Is there still a part of you that wants to give?
Solitary brother,
Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
Solitary sister,
Is there still a part of you that wants to give?
If we try to live our lives
The way we wanna be
Solitary brother,
Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
Solitary sister,
Is there still a part of you that wants to give?
Solitary brother,
Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
Solitary sister,
Is there still a part of you that wants to give?
Racism in future kins can only lead to no good
And besides, all our sons and daughters already
Know how that feels
(adam tinley/henry samuel)
Was the third of september
That day Ill always remember, yes I will
cause that was the day that my daddy died
Never had a chance to see him, no
Never heard nothing but bad things about him
Mama, Im depending on you to tell me the truth
Mama just hung her head and said
Chorus
Papa was a rollin stone
Wherever he laid his hat was his home
And when he died
All he left us was alone
(repeat)
Hey, mama, is it true what they say
That papa never worked aday in his life
Some bad talk going around sayin
Papa had three outside children
And another wife
That aint right
Heard some talk about papa and his storefront
Preachin
[...] Read more
song performed by George Michael
Added by Lucian Velea
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Orlando Furioso Canto 17
ARGUMENT
Charles goes, with his, against King Rodomont.
Gryphon in Norandino's tournament
Does mighty deeds; Martano turns his front,
Showing how recreant is his natural bent;
And next, on Gryphon to bring down affront,
Stole from the knight the arms in which he went;
Hence by the kindly monarch much esteemed,
And Gryphon scorned, whom he Martano deemed.
I
God, outraged by our rank iniquity,
Whenever crimes have past remission's bound,
That mercy may with justice mingled be,
Has monstrous and destructive tyrants crowned;
And gifted them with force and subtlety,
A sinful world to punish and confound.
Marius and Sylla to this end were nursed,
Rome with two Neros and a Caius cursed;
II
Domitian and the latter Antonine;
And, lifted from the lowest rabble's lees,
To imperial place and puissance, Maximine:
Hence Thebes to cruel Creon bent her knees,
Mezentius ruled the subject Agiline,
Fattening his fields with blood. To pests like these
Our Italy was given in later day,
To Lombard, Goth, and Hun a bleeding prey.
III
What shall I of fierce Attila, what say
Of wicked Ezzeline, and hundreds more?
Whom, because men still trod the crooked way,
God sent them for their pain and torment sore.
Of this ourselves have made a clear assay,
As well as those who lived in days of yore;
Consigned to ravening wolves, ordained to keep
Us, his ill-nurturing and unuseful sheep;
IV
Who, as if having more than served to fill
Their hungry maw, invite from foreign wood
Beyond the mountain, wolves of greedier will,
With them to be partakers of their food.
The bones which Thrasymene and Trebbia fill,
And Cannae, seem but few to what are strewed
On fattened field and bank, where on their way
Adda and Mella, Ronco and Tarro stray.
[...] Read more
poem by Ludovico Ariosto
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Bridge Across the Crick
Joseph Jones and Peter Dawking
Strove in an election fight;
And you'd think, to hear them talking,
Each upheld the people's right.
Each declared he stood for Progress and against his country's foes
When he sought their votes at Wombat, where the Muddy River flows.
Peter Dawking, scorning party,
As an Independent ran;
Joseph Jones, loud, blatant, hearty,
Was a solid party man.
But the electors up at Wombat vowed to him alone they'd stick
Who would give his sacred promise for the 'bridge across the crick'.
Bland, unfaithful politicians
Long had said this bridge should be.
Some soared on to high positions,
Some sank to obscurity;
Still the bridge had been denied it by its unrelenting foes -
By the foes of patient Wombat, where the Muddy River flows.
Up at Wombat Peter Dawking
Held a meeting in the hall,
And he'd spent an hour in talking
On the far-flung Empire's Call,
When a local greybeard, rising, smote him with this verbal brick:
'Are or are yeh not in favour of the bridge across the crick?'
Peter just ignored the question,
Proudly patriotic man;
Understand a mean suggestion
Men like Peter never can,
Or that free enlightened voters look on all Great Things as rot,
While a Burning Local Question fires each local patriot.
Joseph Jones, serene and smiling,
Took all Wombat to his heart.
'Ah,' he said, his 'blood was b'iling'
He declared it 'made him smart'
To reflect how they'd been swindled; and he cried in ringing tones
'Gentlemen, your bridge is certain if you cast your votes for Jones!'
Joseph Jones and Peter Dawking
Strove in an election fight,
And, when they had finished talking,
On the great election night
They stood level in the voting, and the hope of friends and foes
Hung upon the box from Wombat, where the Muddy River flows.
Then the Wombat votes were counted;
[...] Read more
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Added by Poetry Lover
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Imagine That
Dream...
Imagine...
Close your eyes...
Ooh...(yah)
Ooh...(next)
Ooh...(divine mill...2k3)
Ooh... (tweet)
Ooh... (r.l.)
Ooh... (and t-low)
Now I might not have
5 or 6 cars in my garage
But would you settle for a nice massage
And the love of a lifetime
Girl...
I swear to God that
With a whole lot of love
And little bit of faith
That we can make it
You just gotta believe that...
We could roll till the wheels fall off (and)
Imma love you till my souls gone on (cause)
It can happen, baby, just hold on
Close your eyes and dream (and imagine that)
Imagine that smile ever leavin your face
Comin home from work and never leavin the place
Got chocolates and champagne just for you to taste
(close your eyes)
Close your eyes, girl, imagine that
Imagine benzes in the parkin lot
A different chauffeur for every car you got
Islands to settle on a private yacht (just close your eyes)
Close your eyes, girl, imagine that
I know you deserve
More than I got right now
But baby, theres no doubt
cause youve always stayed down
I swear to God that
With a whole lot of love
And a little bit of faith
That we can make it
You just gotta believe that
We could roll till the wheels fall off (and)
Imma love you till my souls gone on (hey)
It can happen, baby, just hold on
Close your eyes and dream (and imagine that)
Imagine that smile ever leavin your face
Comin home from work and never leavin the place
Got chocolate and champagne just for you to taste
(close your eyes)
Close your eyes, girl, imagine that (and imagine that)
[...] Read more
song performed by Next
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Idols
An Ode
Luce intellettual, piena d' amore
Prelude
Lo, the spirit of a pulsing star within a stone
Born of earth, sprung from night!
Prisoned with the profound fires of the light
That lives like all the tongues of eloquence
Locked in a speech unknown!
The crystal, cold and hard as innocence,
Immures the flame; and yet as if it knew
Raptures or pangs it could not but betray,
As if the light could feel changes of blood and breath
And all--but--human quiverings of the sense,
Throbs of a sudden rose, a frosty blue,
Shoot thrilling in its ray,
Like the far longings of the intellect
Restless in clouding clay.
Who has confined the Light? Who has held it a slave,
Sold and bought, bought and sold?
Who has made of it a mystery to be doled,
Or trophy, to awe with legendary fire,
Where regal banners wave?
And still into the dark it sends Desire.
In the heart's darkness it sows cruelties.
The bright jewel becomes a beacon to the vile,
A lodestar to corruption, envy's own:
Soiled with blood, fought for, clutched at; this world's prize,
Captive Authority. Oh, the star is stone
To all that outward sight,
Yet still, like truth that none has ever used,
Lives lost in its own light.
Troubled I fly. O let me wander again at will
(Far from cries, far from these
Hard blindnesses and frozen certainties!)
Where life proceeds in vastness unaware
And stirs profound and still:
Where leafing thoughts at shy touch of the air
Tremble, and gleams come seeking to be mine,
Or dart, like suddenly remembered youth,
Like the ache of love, a light, lost, found, and lost again.
Surely in the dusk some messenger was there!
But, haunted in the heart, I thirst, I pine.--
Oh, how can truth be truth
Except I taste it close and sweet and sharp
As an apple to the tooth?
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Laurence Binyon
Added by Poetry Lover
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