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Boxing is the toughest and loneliest sport in the world.

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Toughest Street In Town

Outside the window the neon flashes
In the morning light
Down on the sidewalk theres a woman with a problem
But she dont know how to fight
Shes destitute and broken down
She softly whispers is there no one around
And no one hears the sound
Her knees give way and hit the ground
This is the toughest street in town
This is the toughest street in town
This is the toughest street in town
This is the toughest
Like a rat in a pack it attacks
From the back
Through a crack in a track
And you take a smack
This jack has had a hard day
No one told him it would be like this
Hes had to score the hard way
Working on twenty hour shifts
This is the toughest street in town
This is the toughest
Its tough stuff
This is the toughest street around
This is the toughest
Dont you do down
No how
Its just another black spot
Where far too many people have died
Its just another grave yard
And theres not too many people left alive
This is the toughest
Are you tough enough
This is the toughest
Are you rough enough
This is the toughest
Can you bluff enough
Just a minor misery did me no harm
But its there to warn outside the window
The neon is still flashing in the morning light
Down on the sidewalk that woman was blown away
Out of sight
All across the city no one gives a damn
All across the city no one seems to understand
This is the toughest
This is the toughest street in town
This is the toughest street around
This is the toughest
Are you rough enough
This is the toughest

[...] Read more

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One

One is the loneliest number that youll ever do
Two can be as bad as one, its the loneliest number since the number one
No is the saddest experience youll ever know
Yes is the saddest experience youll ever know
Cause one is the loneliest number that youll ever know
One is the loneliest number even worst then two
Yeah
Its just no good anymore since you went away
Now I spend my time just making up rhymes of yesterday
One is the loneliest number
One is the loneliest number
One is the loneliest number
Since you went away
Since you went away
(one is the loneliest number since youve gone away)
One is the loneliest number
One is the loneliest number
One is the loneliest number
Since youve gone away
Its just no good anymore since you went away
Now I spend my time just making up rhymes of yesterday
One is the loneliest number
One is the loneliest number
One is the loneliest number
Since you went away
Since you went away

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Pecos Bill

Now Pecos Bill was quite a cowboy down in Texas
Why, he's the Western Superman to say the least
He was the roughest, toughest critter, never known to be a quitter
'Cause he never had no fear of man nor beast
So yippee-i-ay-i-ya, yippee-i-o
He's the toughest critter west of the Alamo
Once he roped a raging cyclone out of nowhere
Then he straddled it and settled down with ease
And while that cyclone bucked and flitted, Pecos rolled a smoke and lit it
And he tamed that ornery wind down to a breeze
So yippee-i-ay-i-ya, yippee-i-o
He's the toughest critter west of the Alamo
Now once there was a drought that spread all over Texas
So to sunny Californy he did go
And though the gag is kind of corny, he brought rain from Californy
And that's the way we got the Gulf of Mexico
So yippee-i-ay-i-ya, yippee-i-o
He's the toughest critter west of the Alamo
Now once a band of rustlers stole a herd of cattle
But they didn't know the herd they stole was Bill's
And when he caught them crooked villains
Pecos knocked out all their fillings
That's the reason why there's gold them thar hills
So yippee-i-ay-i-ya, yippee-i-o
He's the toughest critter west of the Alamo
Pecos lost his way while traveling on the desert (Water, water, water...)
It was ninety miles across the burning sand (Water, water, water...)
He knew he'd never reach the border (Water...)
If he didn't get some water (Water...)
So he got a stick and dug the Rio Grande
(Yodeling)
While a tribe of painted Indians did a wardance
Pecos started shooting up their little game
He gave those redskins such a shakeup
That they jumped out of their makeup
That's how the Painted Desert got it's name
So yippee-i-ay-i-ya, yippee-i-o
He's the toughest critter west of the Alamo
While reclining on a cloud high over Texas
With his guns he made the stars evaporate
Then Pecos saw them stars declining
So he left one brightly shining
As the emblem of the Lone Star Texas State
So yippee-i-ay-i-ya, yippee-i-o
He's the toughest critter west of the Alamo
So yippee-i-ay-i-ya, yippee-i-o
He's the emblem of the Lone Star Texas State

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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

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Saturday Night (Is The Loneliest Night In The Week)

Saturday night is the loneliest night in the week
'Cause that's the night that my sweetie and I
Used to dance cheek to cheek
I don't mind Sunday night at all
'Cause that's the night friends come to call
And Monday to Fridays go fast
And another week is past
But Saturday night is the loneliest night in the week
I sing the song that I sang for the memories I usually seek
Until I hear you at the door
Until you're in my arms once more
Saturday night is the loneliest night in the week
I sing a lonely song
And everything seems wrong
You know saturday night is the loneliest night in the week
And I sing a song for the memories I usually seek
Until I hear you nocking at my door
Until you're in my arms once more
Saturday night is the loneliest night
Saturday night is the doggone lonelest night in the week
Until I hear you at the door
Until you're in my arms once more
Saturday night is the loneliest night in the week

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Immigrant

coming from where he did
he was turned away from
every door like joseph
to even the toughest among us
that would be too much
he didn't know what it was
to be black
'til they gave him his change but didn't want to touch
his hand
to even the toughest among us
that would be too much

isn't it just enough
how hard it is to live
isn't it hard enough
just to make it through a day

the secret of their fear
and their suspicion
standing there looking
like an angel
in his brown shoes
his short suit
his white shirt
and his cuffs a little frayed
coming from where he did
he was such a dignified child
to even the toughest among us
that would be too much

isn't it just enough
how hard it is to live
isn't it hard enough
just to make it through a day

coming from where he did
he was turned away from
every door like joseph
to even the toughest among us
that would be too much
he didn't know what it
was to be black
'til they gave him his change but didn't want to touch
his hand
to even the toughest among us
that would be too much

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Boxing or Football?

What's your favourite sport Kevin?
as you like Boxing and Football
well they're both exciting to me
so that's a hard one to call.
Boxing is a very tough sport
a mixture of brawn and skill
two boxers standing toe to toe
both with the power to kill.
Football is full of passion
the worlds greatest team game
no other comes anywhere near
Cricket is slow boring and tame.
Boxing is not for the faint hearted
you have to be tough and very fit
take punches to the head and body
and bob and weave and avoid getting hit.
Football is played the world over
on the streets and over the park
children kick a ball for hours
in the rain and in the dark.
So if I have to make a choice
Football has to be the sport for me
you get great goals and action
and a packed ground is the place to be.
But Boxing comes a close second
Ali, Tyson, Rocky Marciano, were the best,
beating opponents with skill and guts
but so much better than all the rest.

This question was recently put to me and was hard to answer.

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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

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Confessio Amantis. Prologus

Torpor, ebes sensus, scola parua labor minimusque
Causant quo minimus ipse minora canam:
Qua tamen Engisti lingua canit Insula Bruti
Anglica Carmente metra iuuante loquar.
Ossibus ergo carens que conterit ossa loquelis
Absit, et interpres stet procul oro malus.


Of hem that writen ous tofore
The bokes duelle, and we therfore
Ben tawht of that was write tho:
Forthi good is that we also
In oure tyme among ous hiere
Do wryte of newe som matiere,
Essampled of these olde wyse
So that it myhte in such a wyse,
Whan we ben dede and elleswhere,
Beleve to the worldes eere
In tyme comende after this.
Bot for men sein, and soth it is,
That who that al of wisdom writ
It dulleth ofte a mannes wit
To him that schal it aldai rede,
For thilke cause, if that ye rede,
I wolde go the middel weie
And wryte a bok betwen the tweie,
Somwhat of lust, somewhat of lore,
That of the lasse or of the more
Som man mai lyke of that I wryte:
And for that fewe men endite
In oure englissh, I thenke make
A bok for Engelondes sake,
The yer sextenthe of kyng Richard.
What schal befalle hierafterward
God wot, for now upon this tyde
Men se the world on every syde
In sondry wyse so diversed,
That it welnyh stant al reversed,
As forto speke of tyme ago.
The cause whi it changeth so
It needeth nought to specifie,
The thing so open is at ije
That every man it mai beholde:
And natheles be daies olde,
Whan that the bokes weren levere,
Wrytinge was beloved evere
Of hem that weren vertuous;
For hier in erthe amonges ous,
If noman write hou that it stode,
The pris of hem that weren goode

[...] Read more

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Dark Blue By Jack Mannequinn

I have, I have you breathing down my neck, breathing down my neck
I don't, don't know what you could possibly expect under this condition so
I'll wait, I'll wait for the ambulance to come, ambulance to come
Pick us up off the floor what did you possibily expect under this condition so
Slow down, this nights a perfect shade of

Dark blue, dark blue
Have you ever been alone in a crowded room while I'm here with you
I said the world could be burning and burning down

Dark blue, dark blue
Have you ever been alone in a crowded room while I'm here with you
I said the world could be burning 'til there's nothing but dark blue
Just dark blue

And this flood, this flood is slowly rising up, swallowing the ground
Beneath, my feet. Tell me how anybody thinks under this condition so
I'll swim, I'll swim as the water rises up sun is sinking down and now
All I can see are the planets in a row suggesting it's best that I
Slow down this nights a perfect shade of

Dark blue, dark blue
Have you ever been alone in a crowded room while I'm here with you
I said the world could be burning and burning down

Dark blue, dark blue
Have you ever been alone in a crowded room while I'm here with you
I said the world could be burning dark blue

We were boxing, we were boxing the stars
We were boxing (we were boxing) you were swinging from Mars
And then the water reached the west coast
And took the power lines, the power lines
And it was me and you and the whole town underwater
There was nothing we could do
It was dark blue

Dark blue, dark blue
Have you ever been alone in a crowded room while I'm here with you
I said the world could be burning and burning down

Dark blue, dark blue
Have you ever been alone in a crowded room while I'm here with you
I said the world could be burning now there's nothing but dark blue

If you've ever been alone you'll know dark blue
If you've ever been alone you'll know, you'll know

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Soccer Under 20

soccer teams close to pa
soccer teams cartoons
soccer teams england
soccer teams aurora co age 11
soccer teams for ren jacksonville fl
soccer teams for girls in atlanta
soccer teams for ren
soccer teams aurora co
soccer teams fo age 11
soccer teams from europe
soccer teams for toddlers
soccer teams from spain
soccer teams girls massachusetts
soccer teams in alberta
soccer teams for women in massachusetts
soccer teams for women n massachusetts
soccer teams for the facup 2007
soccer teams for toddlers in california
soccer teams from colombia and argentina
soccer teams for winfield
soccer teams games in sarasota florida
soccer teams hotels brescia
soccer teams for s in delaware
soccer teams in allen texas
soccer teams for undder 14s girls
soccer teams in 1987 varsity
soccer teams from mexico
soccer teams for s
soccer teams for youth in newark
soccer teams in clifton new jersey
soccer teams in chaicago
soccer teams in brazil
soccer teams in around chicago
soccer teams in cocoa
soccer teams in central america
soccer teams in chamblee georgia
soccer teams in chula vista
soccer teams in carrollton tx
soccer teams in canada
soccer teams in central valley
soccer teams in charlotte nc
soccer teams in athens greece
soccer teams in charlotte
soccer teams in chile
soccer teams in argintina
soccer teams in arizona
soccer teams in argentina and chile
soccer teams in argentina
soccer teams in concord mass
soccer teams in dundee il

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A Kiss Is A Terrible Thing To Waste

(andrew lloyd webber/ jim steinman)
Producer for meatloaf & bonnie: jim steinman
Recorded in 1998 as part of the 'songs from whistle down the wind' project. bonnie duets with meatloaf on a reprise of 'tire tracks and broken hearts' at the end of the song. the lyrics are from careful listening.
(ooh if only, ooh if only)
If you listen to the night you can hear the darkness fall
I can barely stand the wait, i can barely stand at all
Come on closer to me now, like we're sharing the same skin
We gotta get out of this jail, we gotta let the future in
So many things in your life that you're bound to regret
Why didn't i do that? why didn't i do this?
So many chances you've lost that you never forget
Why didn't i make it? why didn't i take it right then?
The loneliest words you'll ever know if only, if only it was so
The emptiest words that there'll ever be
It could've been me, it could've been me
The loneliest words you'll ever know if only, if only it was so
The emptiest words that there'll ever be
It could've been me, it could've been me
You'll have to pay for it later
If you don't get it while it's going for free
Believe me, believe me
A kiss is a terrible thing to waste
A kiss is a terrible thing to waste
It's something that's always been so
A kiss is a terrible thing to waste
A kiss is a terrible thing to waste
And one of these nights i'm gonna show you that you already know
There's a feast waiting for you and you've never even gotten a taste
It's later than you think and a kiss is a terrible thing to waste
You shouldn't tremble when they touch there's no reason for these fears
It's a promise that was made, we've been promised this for years
I want to show you it all, what to do and where and how
'cause we'll never be as young as we are right now
Never be as young as we are right now
So many cries in the night that you try to ignore
Why didn't i do this? why didn't i do that?
So many un-answered prayers, so many un-opened doors
Why didn't i take it? why didn't i make it come true?
The loneliest words you'll ever know if only, if only it was so
The emptiest words that there'll ever be
It could've been me, it could've been me
The loneliest words you'll ever know if only, if only it was so
The emptiest words that there'll ever be
It could've been me, it could've been me
You'll have to pay for it later
If you don't get it while it's going for free
Believe me, believe me
A kiss is a terrible thing to waste
A kiss is a terrible thing to waste
It's something that's always been so

[...] Read more

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A Kiss Is A Terrible Thing To Waste

If you listen, to the night
You can hear the darkness call
I can barely stand to wait
I can barely stand at all
Cmon closer to me now
Its like were sharing the same skin
We gotta get out of this jail
We gotta let the future in
So many things in your life
That your bound to regret
Why didnt I do that?
Why didnt I do this?
So many chances you lost
That youll never forget
Why didnt I make it?
Why didnt I take it right there?
The loneliest words youll ever know
If only-if only it was so
The emptiest words that therell ever be:
It could have been me. it could have been me
The loneliest words youll ever know
If only-if only it was so
The emptiest words that therell ever be:
It could have been me. it could have been me
Youll have to pay for it later
If you dont get it when its going for free
Believe me -! believe me -!
A kiss is a terrible thing to waste
A kiss is a terrible thing to waste
Its something thats always been so
A kiss is a terrible thing to waste
A kiss is a terrible thing to waste
And one of these nights
Youre gonna show me that you already know
Theres a feast waiting for you
And youve never even gotten a taste
Its later than you think and
A kiss is a terrible thing to waste!
You shouldnt tremble when we touch
Theres no reason for these fears
Its a promise that was made
Weve been promised this for years
I wanna show you it all
What to do and where and how!
Cause well never be as young as we are right now
Well never be as young as we are right now!
So many cries in the night
That you try to ignore
Why didnt I do this?
Why didnt I do that?

[...] Read more

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Waiting On You

Why havent you called me?
Did you forget me?
I need to know
Where were you waiting on me
To break the silence
Let me know
Mine is the loneliest of numbers
Now, its the loneliest of times
Oh yeah, youre 19 days late, but still, I still wait on
Waiting and waiting, waiting and waiting, waiting and waiting
Waiting on you
Who have you been seeing?
That made you forget me
I bet you call him
Where, oh where does he come from?
But when he just goes by
I bet hes just a friend
Mine is the loneliest of numbers
Now, its the loneliest of times
Oh yeah, youre 19 days late, but still, I still wait on
Waiting and waiting, waiting and waiting, waiting and waiting
Waiting on you
Waiting and waiting waiting and waiting, you got me waiting, waiting on you
I asked you if youd ever turn around
I asked you, guess Im never comin home
I asked you if youd ever turn around
I asked you, guess Im never comin home

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Satan Absolved

(In the antechamber of Heaven. Satan walks alone. Angels in groups conversing.)
Satan. To--day is the Lord's ``day.'' Once more on His good pleasure
I, the Heresiarch, wait and pace these halls at leisure
Among the Orthodox, the unfallen Sons of God.
How sweet in truth Heaven is, its floors of sandal wood,
Its old--world furniture, its linen long in press,
Its incense, mummeries, flowers, its scent of holiness!
Each house has its own smell. The smell of Heaven to me
Intoxicates and haunts,--and hurts. Who would not be
God's liveried servant here, the slave of His behest,
Rather than reign outside? I like good things the best,
Fair things, things innocent; and gladly, if He willed,
Would enter His Saints' kingdom--even as a little child.

[Laughs. I have come to make my peace, to crave a full amaun,
Peace, pardon, reconcilement, truce to our daggers--drawn,
Which have so long distraught the fair wise Universe,
An end to my rebellion and the mortal curse
Of always evil--doing. He will mayhap agree
I was less wholly wrong about Humanity
The day I dared to warn His wisdom of that flaw.
It was at least the truth, the whole truth, I foresaw
When He must needs create that simian ``in His own
Image and likeness.'' Faugh! the unseemly carrion!
I claim a new revision and with proofs in hand,
No Job now in my path to foil me and withstand.
Oh, I will serve Him well!
[Certain Angels approach. But who are these that come
With their grieved faces pale and eyes of martyrdom?
Not our good Sons of God? They stop, gesticulate,
Argue apart, some weep,--weep, here within Heaven's gate!
Sob almost in God's sight! ay, real salt human tears,
Such as no Spirit wept these thrice three thousand years.
The last shed were my own, that night of reprobation
When I unsheathed my sword and headed the lost nation.
Since then not one of them has spoken above his breath
Or whispered in these courts one word of life or death
Displeasing to the Lord. No Seraph of them all,
Save I this day each year, has dared to cross Heaven's hall
And give voice to ill news, an unwelcome truth to Him.
Not Michael's self hath dared, prince of the Seraphim.
Yet all now wail aloud.--What ails ye, brethren? Speak!
Are ye too in rebellion? Angels. Satan, no. But weak
With our long earthly toil, the unthankful care of Man.

Satan. Ye have in truth good cause.

Angels. And we would know God's plan,
His true thought for the world, the wherefore and the why
Of His long patience mocked, His name in jeopardy.

[...] Read more

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Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Three Women

My love is young, so young;
Young is her cheek, and her throat,
And life is a song to be sung
With love the word for each note.

Young is her cheek and her throat;
Her eyes have the smile o' May.
And love is the word for each note
In the song of my life to-day.

Her eyes have the smile o' May;
Her heart is the heart of a dove,
And the song of my life to-day
Is love, beautiful love.


Her heart is the heart of a dove,
Ah, would it but fly to my breast
Where love, beautiful love,
Has made it a downy nest.


Ah, would she but fly to my breast,
My love who is young, so young;
I have made her a downy nest
And life is a song to be sung.


1
I.
A dull little station, a man with the eye
Of a dreamer; a bevy of girls moving by;
A swift moving train and a hot Summer sun,
The curtain goes up, and our play is begun.
The drama of passion, of sorrow, of strife,
Which always is billed for the theatre Life.
It runs on forever, from year unto year,
With scarcely a change when new actors appear.
It is old as the world is-far older in truth,
For the world is a crude little planet of youth.
And back in the eras before it was formed,
The passions of hearts through the Universe stormed.


Maurice Somerville passed the cluster of girls
Who twisted their ribbons and fluttered their curls
In vain to attract him; his mind it was plain
Was wholly intent on the incoming train.
That great one eyed monster puffed out its black breath,
Shrieked, snorted and hissed, like a thing bent on death,

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Omar Epps

I like boxing movies. One of the hardest things for me to watch as far as boxing films, is the boxing. The actual boxing usually sucks.

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0021 The Advent of Commerce

December 11; and through the letterbox
falls like a heavy snowflake, the first Christmas card..
who’s so eager to draw
my mind and heart to Advent-tide?

no stamp – ah yes, of course,
it’s from Alex the paper boy,
counting his goodwill before it’s cashed,
throwing me into a moral tizzy.

My parents, who knew the circumspection
with which the poor must treat the poor,
taught me that after God and the family
had been acknowledged on Christmas Day,

Boxing Day’ was the time for showing gratitude
to those who’d served your family faithfully
daily or weekly – the milkman with his
unsociable hours; the paperboy
(for those who could afford a daily paper) :
and other delivery boys;
the coalman; so, if they called with a delivery
on Boxing Day, your Christmas box
would be waiting in its envelope outside the door for them;
or the promising and friendlier note above the letterbox,
‘Paperboy please knock’

only the boldest would have dreamed
of knocking on your threadbare door
to wish a partially sincere seasonal greeting..
though the clop of the coalman’s horse and cart
significantly empty of all sacks, on Boxing Day
was known to be a gentle hint..

Around here, the dustmen of the mid-2oth century
who were the nearest to the Mafia
in this lower middle class suburb,
(and worked for it, carrying heavy iron dustbins
over their shoulders from your house to the cart…)
timed their bold knock on your door to coincide
with the day your double Christmas/New Year pension
had been drawn at the Post Office,
asking gruffly ‘Would you like to sign The Book? ’
which meant you wrote your name, address,
and amount (fictionally exaggerated? They left it to you)
so spontaneously given.. so that the whole street could read
and judge their contribution accordingly...

So I’m in a moral tizzy about Alex;
he’s worked unsociable hours all year

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Ramble

Ramble is a boxer and he is fighting in the ring with Mad dog
who ever win the boxing fight will take home $ 76,000.00 dollars
And it would be nice for Ramble but not Mad dog because Mad dog is already a boxing champion and he already won 20 boxing fights
But his boss is trying hard to push him to win this fight and Mad dog is A Jamaican guy and Ramble is a American guy
But on the first, second and third round of the boxin g fight Ramble knocked down Mad dog and Ramble by now was winnin the fight and Mad dog kept trying hard to knock Ramble down but mad dog got up And knocked Ramble down and than Ramble knocked down Mad dog on the Fourth round, fifth round, and the six round and Mad dog Won his first Boxing fight at the Mapple Leaf Gardens here in Toronto
And he got the $76,000.00 dollars to take home
But he got congratulated by his wife and his kids
Also the good news is that now they can pay their debts of and Eventualy buy a house to live in

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The Loves of the Angels

'Twas when the world was in its prime,
When the fresh stars had just begun
Their race of glory and young Time
Told his first birth-days by the sun;
When in the light of Nature's dawn
Rejoicing, men and angels met
On the high hill and sunny lawn,-
Ere sorrow came or Sin had drawn
'Twixt man and heaven her curtain yet!
When earth lay nearer to the skies
Than in these days of crime and woe,
And mortals saw without surprise
In the mid-air angelic eyes
Gazing upon this world below.

Alas! that Passion should profane
Even then the morning of the earth!
That, sadder still, the fatal stain
Should fall on hearts of heavenly birth-
And that from Woman's love should fall
So dark a stain, most sad of all!

One evening, in that primal hour,
On a hill's side where hung the ray
Of sunset brightening rill and bower,
Three noble youths conversing lay;
And, as they lookt from time to time
To the far sky where Daylight furled
His radiant wing, their brows sublime
Bespoke them of that distant world-
Spirits who once in brotherhood
Of faith and bliss near ALLA stood,
And o'er whose cheeks full oft had blown
The wind that breathes from ALLA'S throne,
Creatures of light such as still play,
Like motes in sunshine, round the Lord,
And thro' their infinite array
Transmit each moment, night and day,
The echo of His luminous word!

Of Heaven they spoke and, still more oft,
Of the bright eyes that charmed them thence;
Till yielding gradual to the soft
And balmy evening's influence-
The silent breathing of the flowers-
The melting light that beamed above,
As on their first, fond, erring hours,-
Each told the story of his love,
The history of that hour unblest,
When like a bird from its high nest

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