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In old age we are like a batch of letters that someone has sent. We are no longer in the past, we have arrived.

quote by Knut Hamsun
Added by Lucian Velea
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Power Age

Key:-a - anita r - ray
R: welcome to the power age
Money, money, money
R: the power age its the new generation
We are the ones with no limitations
We had the iron and the stone
Now we got a new age that we own
But its not about the power that makes you blind
Its all about the the power thats in your mind
This is the time to get the power
The power age, this is the hour
So let the _ take you on _
A: woow...
So release all the pain that stood there before
A: this is the power age
So get with it, oyeah, you belong
Theres only one force that makes you strong
A: oh.. oh...
This is the power age
A: were reaching for the final destination
To break out of the cage
Get in to the power age
With all of the brand new generation
Its time to turn the page
We living in the power age
A: break out of your cage; into the power age
R: the age of destruction, the age of hate
And the age of violence and the ages of late
Greed and gain thats all they care
Money, money, money, with enough to share
So get with it feel the vibration
The power age its just a sensation
You can feel it down in your soul
When you let the force take control
So by now you better know the deal
A: woow...
You gotta to get high to get real
A: this is the power age
Free you mind to disgage
Welcome to the power age
A: oh.. oh...
This is the power age
A: were reaching for the final destination
To break out of the cage
Get in to the power age
With all of the brand new generation
Its time to turn the page
We living in the power age
A: were reaching for the final destination
To break out of the cage

[...] Read more

song performed by 2 Unlimited
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III. The Other Half-Rome

Another day that finds her living yet,
Little Pompilia, with the patient brow
And lamentable smile on those poor lips,
And, under the white hospital-array,
A flower-like body, to frighten at a bruise
You'd think, yet now, stabbed through and through again,
Alive i' the ruins. 'T is a miracle.
It seems that, when her husband struck her first,
She prayed Madonna just that she might live
So long as to confess and be absolved;
And whether it was that, all her sad life long
Never before successful in a prayer,
This prayer rose with authority too dread,—
Or whether, because earth was hell to her,
By compensation, when the blackness broke
She got one glimpse of quiet and the cool blue,
To show her for a moment such things were,—
Or else,—as the Augustinian Brother thinks,
The friar who took confession from her lip,—
When a probationary soul that moved
From nobleness to nobleness, as she,
Over the rough way of the world, succumbs,
Bloodies its last thorn with unflinching foot,
The angels love to do their work betimes,
Staunch some wounds here nor leave so much for God.
Who knows? However it be, confessed, absolved,
She lies, with overplus of life beside
To speak and right herself from first to last,
Right the friend also, lamb-pure, lion-brave,
Care for the boy's concerns, to save the son
From the sire, her two-weeks' infant orphaned thus,
And—with best smile of all reserved for him—
Pardon that sire and husband from the heart.
A miracle, so tell your Molinists!

There she lies in the long white lazar-house.
Rome has besieged, these two days, never doubt,
Saint Anna's where she waits her death, to hear
Though but the chink o' the bell, turn o' the hinge
When the reluctant wicket opes at last,
Lets in, on now this and now that pretence,
Too many by half,—complain the men of art,—
For a patient in such plight. The lawyers first
Paid the due visit—justice must be done;
They took her witness, why the murder was.
Then the priests followed properly,—a soul
To shrive; 't was Brother Celestine's own right,
The same who noises thus her gifts abroad.
But many more, who found they were old friends,
Pushed in to have their stare and take their talk

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Letters Never Sent

(carly simon/jacob brackman)
In a suitcase tied with string
On the highest shelf
In the closet down the hall
Hidden from myself
Fits of madness, pools of grief
Fevers of desire
How peculiar these remain
Slavaged from the fire
For some I crumpled some I burned
Some I tore to shreds
Lifetimes later, here they are
Ones I saved instead
Letters never sent to you
Letters never sent
Never reached their destination
Mostly born of pain
Resurfaced with the purpose of
A trip down memory lane
Broken hearted, breaking hearts
All the way it went
Evidence of what I saw
My experiments
Lifes a riddle, lifes a dream
Lifes an accident
Now Im gonna set them free
Letters never sent
Letters never sent to you
Letters never sent
Once upon a time taboo
Letters never sent
Letters never sent to you
Letters never sent
Incongruous, and overdue
Letters never sent

song performed by Carly Simon
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 9

WHILE these affairs in distant places pass’d,
The various Iris Juno sends with haste,
To find bold Turnus, who, with anxious thought,
The secret shade of his great grandsire sought.
Retir’d alone she found the daring man, 5
And op’d her rosy lips, and thus began:
“What none of all the gods could grant thy vows,
That, Turnus, this auspicious day bestows.
Æneas, gone to seek th’ Arcadian prince,
Has left the Trojan camp without defense; 10
And, short of succors there, employs his pains
In parts remote to raise the Tuscan swains.
Now snatch an hour that favors thy designs;
Unite thy forces, and attack their lines.”
This said, on equal wings she pois’d her weight, 15
And form’d a radiant rainbow in her flight.
The Daunian hero lifts his hands and eyes,
And thus invokes the goddess as she flies:
“Iris, the grace of heav’n, what pow’r divine
Has sent thee down, thro’ dusky clouds to shine? 20
See, they divide; immortal day appears,
And glitt’ring planets dancing in their spheres!
With joy, these happy omens I obey,
And follow to the war the god that leads the way.”
Thus having said, as by the brook he stood, 25
He scoop’d the water from the crystal flood;
Then with his hands the drops to heav’n he throws,
And loads the pow’rs above with offer’d vows.
Now march the bold confed’rates thro’ the plain,
Well hors’d, well clad; a rich and shining train. 30
Messapus leads the van; and, in the rear,
The sons of Tyrrheus in bright arms appear.
In the main battle, with his flaming crest,
The mighty Turnus tow’rs above the rest.
Silent they move, majestically slow, 35
Like ebbing Nile, or Ganges in his flow.
The Trojans view the dusty cloud from far,
And the dark menace of the distant war.
Caicus from the rampire saw it rise,
Black’ning the fields, and thick’ning thro’ the skies. 40
Then to his fellows thus aloud he calls:
“What rolling clouds, my friends, approach the walls?
Arm! arm! and man the works! prepare your spears
And pointed darts! the Latian host appears.”
Thus warn’d, they shut their gates; with shouts ascend 45
The bulwarks, and, secure, their foes attend:
For their wise gen’ral, with foreseeing care,
Had charg’d them not to tempt the doubtful war,
Nor, tho’ provok’d, in open fields advance,
But close within their lines attend their chance. 50

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poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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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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IV. Tertium Quid

True, Excellency—as his Highness says,
Though she's not dead yet, she's as good as stretched
Symmetrical beside the other two;
Though he's not judged yet, he's the same as judged,
So do the facts abound and superabound:
And nothing hinders that we lift the case
Out of the shade into the shine, allow
Qualified persons to pronounce at last,
Nay, edge in an authoritative word
Between this rabble's-brabble of dolts and fools
Who make up reasonless unreasoning Rome.
"Now for the Trial!" they roar: "the Trial to test
"The truth, weigh husband and weigh wife alike
"I' the scales of law, make one scale kick the beam!"
Law's a machine from which, to please the mob,
Truth the divinity must needs descend
And clear things at the play's fifth act—aha!
Hammer into their noddles who was who
And what was what. I tell the simpletons
"Could law be competent to such a feat
"'T were done already: what begins next week
"Is end o' the Trial, last link of a chain
"Whereof the first was forged three years ago
"When law addressed herself to set wrong right,
"And proved so slow in taking the first step
"That ever some new grievance,—tort, retort,
"On one or the other side,—o'ertook i' the game,
"Retarded sentence, till this deed of death
"Is thrown in, as it were, last bale to boat
"Crammed to the edge with cargo—or passengers?
"'Trecentos inseris: ohe, jam satis est!
"'Huc appelle!'—passengers, the word must be."
Long since, the boat was loaded to my eyes.
To hear the rabble and brabble, you'd call the case
Fused and confused past human finding out.
One calls the square round, t' other the round square—
And pardonably in that first surprise
O' the blood that fell and splashed the diagram:
But now we've used our eyes to the violent hue
Can't we look through the crimson and trace lines?
It makes a man despair of history,
Eusebius and the established fact—fig's end!
Oh, give the fools their Trial, rattle away
With the leash of lawyers, two on either side—
One barks, one bites,—Masters Arcangeli
And Spreti,—that's the husband's ultimate hope
Against the Fisc and the other kind of Fisc,
Bound to do barking for the wife: bow—wow!
Why, Excellency, we and his Highness here
Would settle the matter as sufficiently

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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The Rosciad

Unknowing and unknown, the hardy Muse
Boldly defies all mean and partial views;
With honest freedom plays the critic's part,
And praises, as she censures, from the heart.

Roscius deceased, each high aspiring player
Push'd all his interest for the vacant chair.
The buskin'd heroes of the mimic stage
No longer whine in love, and rant in rage;
The monarch quits his throne, and condescends
Humbly to court the favour of his friends;
For pity's sake tells undeserved mishaps,
And, their applause to gain, recounts his claps.
Thus the victorious chiefs of ancient Rome,
To win the mob, a suppliant's form assume;
In pompous strain fight o'er the extinguish'd war,
And show where honour bled in every scar.
But though bare merit might in Rome appear
The strongest plea for favour, 'tis not here;
We form our judgment in another way;
And they will best succeed, who best can pay:
Those who would gain the votes of British tribes,
Must add to force of merit, force of bribes.
What can an actor give? In every age
Cash hath been rudely banish'd from the stage;
Monarchs themselves, to grief of every player,
Appear as often as their image there:
They can't, like candidate for other seat,
Pour seas of wine, and mountains raise of meat.
Wine! they could bribe you with the world as soon,
And of 'Roast Beef,' they only know the tune:
But what they have they give; could Clive do more,
Though for each million he had brought home four?
Shuter keeps open house at Southwark fair,
And hopes the friends of humour will be there;
In Smithfield, Yates prepares the rival treat
For those who laughter love, instead of meat;
Foote, at Old House,--for even Foote will be,
In self-conceit, an actor,--bribes with tea;
Which Wilkinson at second-hand receives,
And at the New, pours water on the leaves.
The town divided, each runs several ways,
As passion, humour, interest, party sways.
Things of no moment, colour of the hair,
Shape of a leg, complexion brown or fair,
A dress well chosen, or a patch misplaced,
Conciliate favour, or create distaste.
From galleries loud peals of laughter roll,
And thunder Shuter's praises; he's so droll.
Embox'd, the ladies must have something smart,

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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Alphabet Lost And Found

On this fateful day, in the history of whenever,
An epidemic of missing letters has swept the land.
Whatever the cause, for the sake of future generations,
In the limited time we have been permitted, these stories must be told.
There was an apple that lost his 'a'
There was a zebra that lost his 'z'
There was a chauffeur that left his 'auffer' on the dashboard
Of the car that lost its 'r'
Well, the car had lost its 'r' in a pothole
On a street that lost its 'e'
When the garbage collector with a missing 'ector' swept it up
With a broom that lost its 'oom'
Where they gonna go without their letters?
How could they survive without their letters?
Where they gonna go to find their letters?
They gonna have to get together-
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet lost and found)
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet lost and found)
There was a school that lost its 'cool'
when they tired to ring the bell that had no 'l'
With all the letters gone, the spelling bee was canceled
Science teachers had their hands full
English classes could not be complete
Where they gonna go without their letters?
How could they survive without their letters?
Where they gonna go to find their letters?
They gonna have to get together
Where they gonna go without their letters?
How could they survive without their letters?
Where they gonna go to find their letters?
They gonna have to get together
Crowds of people, animals, and incomplete words have been seen at a previously unknown place to be referred to as-
The alphabet lost and found (alphabet lost and found)
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet lost and found)
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet lost and found) (how could they survive without their letters)
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet and lost found) (they gonna have to get together)
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet and lost found) (they gonna have to get together)
At the alphabet lost and found (alphabet and lost found) (they gonna have to get together)

song performed by They Might Be Giants
Added by Lucian Velea
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Canto the First

I
I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one,
Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant,
The age discovers he is not the true one;
Of such as these I should not care to vaunt,
I'll therefore take our ancient friend Don Juan—
We all have seen him, in the pantomime,
Sent to the devil somewhat ere his time.

II
Vernon, the butcher Cumberland, Wolfe, Hawke,
Prince Ferdinand, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe,
Evil and good, have had their tithe of talk,
And fill'd their sign posts then, like Wellesley now;
Each in their turn like Banquo's monarchs stalk,
Followers of fame, "nine farrow" of that sow:
France, too, had Buonaparté and Dumourier
Recorded in the Moniteur and Courier.

III
Barnave, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau,
Petion, Clootz, Danton, Marat, La Fayette,
Were French, and famous people, as we know:
And there were others, scarce forgotten yet,
Joubert, Hoche, Marceau, Lannes, Desaix, Moreau,
With many of the military set,
Exceedingly remarkable at times,
But not at all adapted to my rhymes.

IV
Nelson was once Britannia's god of war,
And still should be so, but the tide is turn'd;
There's no more to be said of Trafalgar,
'T is with our hero quietly inurn'd;
Because the army's grown more popular,
At which the naval people are concern'd;
Besides, the prince is all for the land-service,
Forgetting Duncan, Nelson, Howe, and Jervis.

V
Brave men were living before Agamemnon
And since, exceeding valorous and sage,
A good deal like him too, though quite the same none;
But then they shone not on the poet's page,
And so have been forgotten:—I condemn none,
But can't find any in the present age
Fit for my poem (that is, for my new one);
So, as I said, I'll take my friend Don Juan.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
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How Much Longer

I'm stuck
Inside
Can't get this done wish I could hide
This scene is really such a pain
I just
Can't see
How this is any use to me
This work is drivin' me insane
All I really want is to get away (can anybody tell me)
How much longer
Till I'm done
How much longer
Wanna feel the sun
How much longer
I can't wait
How much longer until I can play that game
It's on
My mind
I think I'm runnin out of time
This weight is more than I can take
That clock
Is slow
It's never gonna let me go
This time I need more than just a break
All I really want is to get away (can anybody tell me)
How much longer
Till I'm done
How much longer
Wanna feel the sun
How much longer
I can't wait
How much longer until I can play that game
How much longer
Till I'm done
How much longer
Wanna feel the sun
How much longer
I can't wait
How much longer until I can play that game
And here I go again (and here I go again)
Wondering when (when)
I can have my time to play
(Can anybody tell me)
(Can anybody, can anybody tell me)
How much longer
Till I'm done
How much longer
Wanna feel the sun
How much longer
I can't wait

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song performed by Yu-Gi-Oh
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M'Fingal - Canto I

When Yankies, skill'd in martial rule,
First put the British troops to school;
Instructed them in warlike trade,
And new manoeuvres of parade,
The true war-dance of Yankee reels,
And manual exercise of heels;
Made them give up, like saints complete,
The arm of flesh, and trust the feet,
And work, like Christians undissembling,
Salvation out, by fear and trembling;
Taught Percy fashionable races,
And modern modes of Chevy-Chases:
From Boston, in his best array,
Great 'Squire M'Fingal took his way,
And graced with ensigns of renown,
Steer'd homeward to his native town.

His high descent our heralds trace
From Ossian's famed Fingalian race:
For though their name some part may lack,
Old Fingal spelt it with a Mac;
Which great M'Pherson, with submission,
We hope will add the next edition.

His fathers flourish'd in the Highlands
Of Scotia's fog-benighted islands;
Whence gain'd our 'Squire two gifts by right,
Rebellion, and the Second-sight.
Of these, the first, in ancient days,
Had gain'd the noblest palm of praise,
'Gainst kings stood forth and many a crown'd head
With terror of its might confounded;
Till rose a king with potent charm
His foes by meekness to disarm,
Whom every Scot and Jacobite
Strait fell in love with at first sight;
Whose gracious speech with aid of pensions,
Hush'd down all murmurs of dissensions,
And with the sound of potent metal
Brought all their buzzing swarms to settle;
Who rain'd his ministerial manna,
Till loud Sedition sung hosanna;
The grave Lords-Bishops and the Kirk
United in the public work;
Rebellion, from the northern regions,
With Bute and Mansfield swore allegiance;
All hands combin'd to raze, as nuisance,
Of church and state the Constitutions,

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poem by John Trumbull
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Age considers, youth ventures

Age considers, youth ventures

Age visualizes, youth dreams

Age makes theories, youth experiments

Age loves, youth longs

Age sees people, youth sees places

Age knows belongings, youth discovers them

Age pains to gain, youth gains to others' pain

Age has heart, youth has mind

Age is thoughtful, youth is tactful

Age ponders, youth wonders

Age recounts, youth counts

Age is experienced, youth is in experience

Age is cautious, youth dashes

Age floats, youth swims

Age lives, youth still making a living

Age is in touch with termination, youth with determination

Age is confident, youth is competent

Age adds years to living, youth adds life to living

Age is lost in past, youth is drowned in future

Age is grown, youth is crown

Ageless is youth, youthless is age

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Fine

A lovers quarrel
Death by a shotgun barrel
With a cleaning solution the instruments are made sterile.
A hairy situation.
Like a plastic surgeon.
Rewriting the expression.
In both the date and time.

Now its fine
Now its fine.
Fine as fine can be.
I no longer need you and you no longer need me.
Can you hear the anger scream.
Reaching out for mercy in its desperate pleas.

Now its fine
Now its fine.
Fine as fine can be.
I no longer need you and you no longer need me.
Can you hear the anger scream.
Reaching out for mercy in its desperate pleas.

Changing my identity
Becoming that man I never use to be
With all niceties, and pleasantries wrapped in a little bow tie.
I don't even know how I survived.
Some thought I would have committed suicide.
But my drive just wouldn't let me.

Well, Now its fine
Now its fine.
Fine as fine can be.
I no longer need you and you no longer need me.
Can you hear the anger scream.
Reaching out for mercy in its desperate pleas.

Now its fine
Now its fine.
Fine as fine can be.
I no longer need you and you no longer need me.
Can you hear the anger scream.
Reaching out for mercy in its desperate pleas.

A murders escape.
A mind debates.
With shouts of hate.
How can you? Just how can you?
Emotional distress.
In all this I digest the worthiness
Worthless I've been called.

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poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Loverman

(originally recorded by nick cave and the bad seeds)
Theres a devil waiting outside your door (how much longer? )
Theres a devil waiting outside your door (how much longer? )
And hes bucking and braying and pawing at the floor (how much longer? )
And hes howling with pain, crawling up the walls (how much longer? )
Theres a devil waiting outside your door (how much longer? )
And hes weak with evil and broken by the world (how much longer? )
And hes shouting your name and asking for more (how much longer? )
Theres a devil waiting outside your door (how much longer? )
Loverman! since the world began
Forever, amen, till the end of time, yeah
Take off that dress, oh
Im coming down, yeah
Im your loverman, yeah
cause I am what I am what I am what I am what I am
L is for love, baby
O is for only you that I do
V is for loving virtually everything that you are
E is for loving almost everything that you do
R is for rape me
M is for murder me
A is for answering all of my prayers
N is for knowing your lovermans going to be the answer to all of yours
Loverman! till the bitter end
While the empires burn down
Forever and ever and ever, ever, amen
Im your loverman
So help me, baby
So help me, baby
cause I am what I am what I am what I am what I am
Im your loverman
Theres a devil crawling along your floor (how much longer? )
Theres a devil crawling along your floor (how much longer? )
With a trembling heart, hes coming through your door (how much longer? )
With his straining sex in his jumping paw (how much longer? )
Ooh, theres a devil crawling along your floor (how much longer? )
And hes old and hes stupid and hes hungry and hes sore
And hes blind and hes lame and hes dirty and hes poor
Gimme more, gimme more, gimme more, gimme more, gimme more, gimme more (how much longer? )
Theres a devil crawling along your floor
Loverman! haha! and here I stand
Forever, amen
cause I am what I am what I am what I am, hey
Forgive me, baby
My hands are tied
And I got no choice, no, no, no, no
I got no choice, no choice at all
Ill say it again
L is for love, baby
O is for oh yes I do

[...] Read more

song performed by Metallica
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Third Monarchy, being the Grecian, beginning under Alexander the Great in the 112. Olympiad.

Great Alexander was wise Philips son,
He to Amyntas, Kings of Macedon;
The cruel proud Olympias was his Mother,
She to Epirus warlike King was daughter.
This Prince (his father by Pausanias slain)
The twenty first of's age began to reign.
Great were the Gifts of nature which he had,
His education much to those did adde:
By art and nature both he was made fit,
To 'complish that which long before was writ.
The very day of his Nativity
To ground was burnt Dianaes Temple high:
An Omen to their near approaching woe,
Whose glory to the earth this king did throw.
His Rule to Greece he scorn'd should be confin'd,
The Universe scarce bound his proud vast mind.
This is the He-Goat which from Grecia came,
That ran in Choler on the Persian Ram,
That brake his horns, that threw him on the ground
To save him from his might no man was found:
Philip on this great Conquest had an eye,
But death did terminate those thoughts so high.
The Greeks had chose him Captain General,
Which honour to his Son did now befall.
(For as Worlds Monarch now we speak not on,
But as the King of little Macedon)
Restless both day and night his heart then was,
His high resolves which way to bring to pass;
Yet for a while in Greece is forc'd to stay,
Which makes each moment seem more then a day.
Thebes and stiff Athens both 'gainst him rebel,
Their mutinies by valour doth he quell.
This done against both right and natures Laws,
His kinsmen put to death, who gave no cause;
That no rebellion in in his absence be,
Nor making Title unto Sovereignty.
And all whom he suspects or fears will climbe,
Now taste of death least they deserv'd in time,
Nor wonder is t if he in blood begin,
For Cruelty was his parental sin,
Thus eased now of troubles and of fears,
Next spring his course to Asia he steers;
Leavs Sage Antipater, at home to sway,
And through the Hellispont his Ships made way.
Coming to Land, his dart on shore he throws,
Then with alacrity he after goes;
And with a bount'ous heart and courage brave,
His little wealth among his Souldiers gave.
And being ask'd what for himself was left,
Reply'd, enough, sith only hope he kept.

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poem by Anne Bradstreet
Added by Poetry Lover
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VII. Pompilia

I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.

All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.

Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Burn All The Letters

I am sorry that I set my sights
On the things I read
Something meant for your husband
Maybe you left it under the bed
Once upon a love those words blew free and secret
The pages lay around
Drifted to the hands of the publisher
And the greedy generations on down
Burn all the letters
(someone is always watching)
The governments on the phone
(whether openly or secretly)
Burn all the letters
(now breathe life)
Send them on
(into your story)
To a safer home
(I said burn it to secrecy)
Burn all the letters
Brand them in you before you go
Soldiers are coming to plunder
But there are some things they will never know
We made our love out of dignity
Dug our nails in the dirt
(hung our towel soaked souls out on the line)
Hung our towel soaked souls out on the line
We loved so hard that it hurt
To ease my pain I took a pen and paper
Incarnate came the bleeding
Send it back before the public eye
Perverts it in the reading
And burn all the letters
(someone is always watching)
Ah the governments on the phone
(whether openly or secretly)
Burn all the letters
(now breathe life)
Send them on back
(into your story)
To a safer home
(I said burn it to secrecy)
Burn all the letters
Brand them in you before you go
The soldiers coming to plunder
But there are some things they will never know
Burn all the letters
Ah the governments on the phone
On the phone
Burn all the letters
(all the letters)

[...] Read more

song performed by Indigo Girls
Added by Lucian Velea
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8-3-1

The way I want you babe
Its embarrassing
I cant control myself
Its just too much for me
I cant concentrate
I dont know what to say
Except your name baby
The sweetest name
And when we kiss that kiss
Thats when it hits
With my heart and soul I say this
8 letters, 3 words, one meaning
In my heart
8 letters, 3 words, one feeling
When it starts
When you say my name
I begin to shake
I break out in a sweat
This is the best it gets
Theres nothing second rate
About this feeling babe
Its forever come what may
Its what I hope and pray yeah
And when we kiss that kiss
Thats when it hits
With my heart and soul I say this baby
8 letters, 3 words, one meaning
In my heart
8 letters, 3 words, one feeling
When it starts
8 letters, 3 words, one meaning
In my heart
8 letters, 3 words, one feeling
When it starts
Its understanding and its understood
And baby it sure feels good
8 letters, 3 words, one meaning
In my heart
8 letters, 3 words, one feeling
When it starts
And when we kiss that kiss
Thats when it hits
With my heart and soul I say this baby
8 letters, 3 words, one meaning
In my heart
8 letters, 3 words, one feeling
When it starts

song performed by Lisa Stansfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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Love Letters

She held a pack of love letters tied with ribbons and bows.
these were the love letters that she would never show.
Every one of them was dated first to last
These were the letters that held a life past.
Times may pass and things may change
But memories stay the same.

The writing of love letters had slowly disappeared
But she held on to them from year to year.
She sat with the letters in her lap.
As the tears rolled down her eyes
He had said he would be with her
Till the day he died
And fifty years later
He met his maker
And was carried to the cemetery
by the undertaker.

The letters had been written
with tenderness and love
Proclaiming every thing
Even the stars above.

He said life was meaningless if with her
His life he could not share.
And losing her was something
he could not bear.

Now that he was gone and she
Was left all alone.
The house didn’t seem
like much of a home.

She knew her children would not understand
Why she held the love letters in her hand.
These were the memories that kept her alive
And on that she couldn’t deny.
But her mind and body was fading fast
And she knew she could not last.
So to her children she bequeathed
The letters that she cherished all her life
For that was her husband, and she was his wife.

These are the love letters that your father
Wrote to me when we were young and carefree.
He told me of all that life had to offer.
And of all the love he had for me
And that he wanted to raise a family.

When you read his letters you will know

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poem by Louis Rams
Added by Poetry Lover
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