Puppetic Threats
Puppet!
Speaks in borrowed voice
Spews out threats
It has no choice
But makes the moves
Held by strings, obeys
Just to prove
All he says
In ego - 'Fire! '
That rocket lay
A puppet's ire
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Related quotes
Borrowed
borrowed shirts, borrowed shoes,
borrowed books, borrowed thoughts,
borrowed bed, borrowed lover,
borrowed dreams, borrowed salt.
borrowed children, borrowed mothers,
borrowed study, borrowed lives.
borrowed God, borrowed heaven,
borrowed killers with borrowed knives.
borrowed flags, borrowed lies,
borrowed virtue, borrowed freedom.
borrowed bombs, borrowed bullets,
borrowed puppets, borrowed kingdoms.
borrowed soup bowls, borrowed numbers,
borrowed tents, borrowed bridge.
borrowed hope, borrowed survival,
borrowed till it's sacrilige!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Song: On Borrowed Time
We're all living on borrowed time,
Near the brooding sea and brine.
And we grow our primate's spine,
In every clime.
Since we crawled out from 'neath the grime,
And evolved to a species – prime.
We've been living on borrowed time,
On borrowed time.
On borrowed time. We feed and dine.
On borrowed time. In swill like swine.
On borrowed time. We sup our wine.
On borrowed time. On borrowed time!
On borrowed time. In slow decline.
On borrowed time. No season shines.
On borrowed time. No reason rhymes.
On borrowed time. On borrowed time!
We're all living on borrowed time,
Acting out our roles in mime,
As if you cannot tell that I'm confused.
We're all living on borrowed time,
And we're captured hook and line.
Enraptured lives entwine as minds unloose.
On borrowed time, by frantic chime,
Of doomsday clocks and scam sub-prime.
On borrowed time, we count the dime.
On borrowed time. On borrowed time!
From that day of Eve's droll crime,
When dull Adam su*ked the lime,
We've been living on borrowed time,
On borrowed time.
On borrowed time. By dread defined.
On borrowed time. Knee-deep in slime.
On borrowed time. We moan and whine.
On borrowed time. On borrowed time!
On borrowed time. To heights sublime.
On borrowed time. Statistics climb.
On borrowed time. Who reads the signs?
On borrowed time. On borrowed time!
poem by David SmithWhite
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Rocket Ride
Lady space, you like the way
I make you feel inside
Take a rocket ride
From the start you wanted to fly
I got the rocket and you want the ride
Take a rocket ride
Baby wants it fast, baby wants a blast
She wants a rocket ride, she wants a rocket ride
Baby wants it fast, baby wants a blast
She wants a rocket ride, she wants a rocket ride
Lady space, you better wake up fast
Countdown is comin on
Take a rocket ride
The gravity that used to hold you down
Just dont exist no more
Take a rocket ride
Baby wants it fast, baby wants a blast
She wants a rocket ride, she wants a rocket ride
Baby wants it fast, baby wants a blast
She wants a rocket ride, she wants a rocket ride
Come on, grab a hold of my rocket
Baby wants it fast, baby wants a blast
She wants a rocket ride, she wants a rocket ride
Baby wants it fast, baby wants a blast
She wants a rocket ride, she wants a rocket ride
Babys on her knees, baby wants to please
She wants a rocket ride, she wants a rocket ride
Babys on her knees, baby wants to please
She wants a rocket ride, she wants a rocket ride
song performed by Kiss
Added by Lucian Velea
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Rocket Town
Let me take you down down down to rocket town
Yeah we're going down down down to rocket town
Let me take you down down down to rocket town
Yeah we're going down down down to rocket town
Every time I see you baby(hey yeah, hey yeah)
There's always a tear to be found(hey yeah, hey yeah)
This request just won't stop coming(hey yeah, hey yeah)
So come with me now(go Fred go, go Fred go)
Let me take you down down down to rocket town
Yeah we're going down down down to rocket town
Let me take you down down down to rocket town
Yeah we're going down down down to rocket town
Every time you keep me guessing(hey yeah, hey yeah)
It's always the same run around(hey yeah, hey yeah)
Ammunition won't stop gunning(hey yeah, hey yeah)
So come with me now(go Fred go, go Fred go)
Let me take you down down down to rocket town
Yeah we're going down down down to rocket town
Let me take you down down down to rocket town
Yeah we're going down down down to rocket town
Rocket town is a state of mind
Close your eyes, it ain't hard to find
Everytime I taste your honey
There's always a sting to be found
This suggestion won't stop buzzin'(hey yeah, hey yeah)
So come with me now(go Fred go, go Fred go)
Let me take you down down down to rocket town
Yeah we're going down down down to rocket town
Let me take you down down down to rocket town
Yeah we're going down down down to rocket town
Hey yeah, hey yeah, let me take you down
Ooh hey yeah
Rocket town is a state of mind(go Fred go, go Fred go)
Close your eyes, it ain't hard to find
Rocket town is an attitude
Good for the head
Mental food(repeat)
song performed by Right Said Fred
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XI. Guido
You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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Tamar
I
A night the half-moon was like a dancing-girl,
No, like a drunkard's last half-dollar
Shoved on the polished bar of the eastern hill-range,
Young Cauldwell rode his pony along the sea-cliff;
When she stopped, spurred; when she trembled, drove
The teeth of the little jagged wheels so deep
They tasted blood; the mare with four slim hooves
On a foot of ground pivoted like a top,
Jumped from the crumble of sod, went down, caught, slipped;
Then, the quick frenzy finished, stiffening herself
Slid with her drunken rider down the ledges,
Shot from sheer rock and broke
Her life out on the rounded tidal boulders.
The night you know accepted with no show of emotion the little
accident; grave Orion
Moved northwest from the naked shore, the moon moved to
meridian, the slow pulse of the ocean
Beat, the slow tide came in across the slippery stones; it drowned
the dead mare's muzzle and sluggishly
Felt for the rider; Cauldwell’s sleepy soul came back from the
blind course curious to know
What sea-cold fingers tapped the walls of its deserted ruin.
Pain, pain and faintness, crushing
Weights, and a vain desire to vomit, and soon again
die icy fingers, they had crept over the loose hand and lay in the
hair now. He rolled sidewise
Against mountains of weight and for another half-hour lay still.
With a gush of liquid noises
The wave covered him head and all, his body
Crawled without consciousness and like a creature with no bones,
a seaworm, lifted its face
Above the sea-wrack of a stone; then a white twilight grew about
the moon, and above
The ancient water, the everlasting repetition of the dawn. You
shipwrecked horseman
So many and still so many and now for you the last. But when it
grew daylight
He grew quite conscious; broken ends of bone ground on each
other among the working fibers
While by half-inches he was drawing himself out of the seawrack
up to sandy granite,
Out of the tide's path. Where the thin ledge tailed into flat cliff
he fell asleep. . . .
Far seaward
The daylight moon hung like a slip of cloud against the horizon.
The tide was ebbing
From the dead horse and the black belt of sea-growth. Cauldwell
seemed to have felt her crying beside him,
[...] Read more
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Fire Ferocious
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
You show no mercy – no regard:
A writhing army uncontrolled.
At least you don’t discriminate,
Selecting to exterminate:
All dealt with equal pain untold.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
In time of drought you run amok –
An open chimney of the land.
Prefer to scorch than suffocate:
In blinding zeal, incinerate
To blackened vista now unmanned.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
Destruction be your only goal
For you to vent your jealous wrath
On gentle life with caring soul
And human victims to console:
As you are none, but psychopath.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
So there it is – you are but flame:
Reacting gases to adorn –
With orange flicks of flailing arms,
You’re flaunting your demonic charms!
Now leave us for bereaved to mourn.
Fire! Fire! Ferocious fire!
You restless wall of flame.
Fire! Fire! Roaring higher!
Your fury to never tame.
So many lives to claim.
[...] Read more
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Epilogue
(THE GRAVEYARD OF SPOON RIVER. TWO VOICES ARE HEARD BEHIND A SCREEN DECORATED WITH DIABOLICAL AND ANGELIC FIGURES IN VARIOUS ALLEGORICAL RELATIONS. A FAINT LIGHT SHOWS DIMLY THROUGH THE SCREEN AS IF IT WERE WOVEN OF LEAVES, BRANCHES AND SHADOWS.)
FIRST VOICE
A game of checkers?
SECOND VOICE
Well, I don't mind.
FIRST VOICE
I move the Will.
SECOND VOICE
You're playing it blind.
FIRST VOICE
Then here's the Soul.
SECOND VOICE
Checked by the Will.
FIRST VOICE
Eternal Good!
SECOND VOICE
And Eternal Ill.
FIRST VOICE
I haste for the King row.
SECOND VOICE
Save your breath.
FIRST VOICE
I was moving Life.
SECOND VOICE
You're checked by Death.
[...] Read more
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Puppet Boy
Wake up puppet boy!
Get up puppet boy
You got a job to do
Even so youre free to go
Where your master tells you to
Listen puppet boy
Before you disobey
Consider that the strings attached
Could make a big change in your ways
Puppet boy
Its the little things that count
Little problems little minds
Little points of view
Puppet boy
Its the little things add up
Getting bigger pull the trigger
Little things like you
Stand up puppet boy
Time to start the show
Youd better do some brand new moves
They paid a lot to watch you go
No!
Whats that puppet boy
Dont tell me what to do
Whats that puppet boy
Im not a freak like you
Whats that puppet boy
Ill move when I want to
I cant hear you puppet boy
Now dance dance dance
Stay out of bed
Unless you wanna get wet
Im a boy not a toy
And Im not through yet
Stay out of bed
Unless you wanna get wet
Now wake up puppet boy
Listen puppet boy
Youre not a robot slave
Consider that no strings attached
Could ever make you misbehave
Puppet boy
Its the little things in life
Little problems little minds
Little points of view
Puppet boy
Its the little things that count
Getting bigger pull the trigger
Little things like you
Now wake up puppet boy!
song performed by Devo
Added by Lucian Velea
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Easter-Day
HOW very hard it is to be
A Christian! Hard for you and me,
—Not the mere task of making real
That duty up to its ideal,
Effecting thus complete and whole,
A purpose or the human soul—
For that is always hard to do;
But hard, I mean, for me and you
To realise it, more or less,
With even the moderate success
Which commonly repays our strife
To carry out the aims of life.
“This aim is greater,” you may say,
“And so more arduous every way.”
—But the importance of the fruits
Still proves to man, in all pursuits,
Proportional encouragement.
“Then, what if it be God’s intent
“That labour to this one result
“Shall seem unduly difficult?”
—Ah, that’s a question in the dark—
And the sole thing that I remark
Upon the difficulty, this;
We do not see it where it is,
At the beginning of the race:
As we proceed, it shifts its place,
And where we looked for palms to fall,
We find the tug’s to come,—that’s all.
II.
At first you say, “The whole, or chief
“Of difficulties, is Belief.
“Could I believe once thoroughly,
“The rest were simple. What? Am I
“An idiot, do you think? A beast?
“Prove to me only that the least
“Command of God is God’s indeed,
“And what injunction shall I need
“To pay obedience? Death so nigh
“When time must end, eternity
“Begin,—and cannot I compute?
“Weigh loss and gain together? suit
“My actions to the balance drawn,
“And give my body to be sawn
“Asunder, hacked in pieces, tied
“To horses, stoned, burned, crucified,
“Like any martyr of the list?
“How gladly,—if I made acquist,
“Through the brief minutes’ fierce annoy,
“Of God’s eternity of joy.”
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning
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Pharsalia - Book IX: Cato
Yet in those ashes on the Pharian shore,
In that small heap of dust, was not confined
So great a shade; but from the limbs half burnt
And narrow cell sprang forth and sought the sky
Where dwells the Thunderer. Black the space of air
Upreaching to the poles that bear on high
The constellations in their nightly round;
There 'twixt the orbit of the moon and earth
Abide those lofty spirits, half divine,
Who by their blameless lives and fire of soul
Are fit to tolerate the pure expanse
That bounds the lower ether: there shall dwell,
Where nor the monument encased in gold,
Nor richest incense, shall suffice to bring
The buried dead, in union with the spheres,
Pompeius' spirit. When with heavenly light
His soul was filled, first on the wandering stars
And fixed orbs he bent his wondering gaze;
Then saw what darkness veils our earthly day
And scorned the insults heaped upon his corse.
Next o'er Emathian plains he winged his flight,
And ruthless Caesar's standards, and the fleet
Tossed on the deep: in Brutus' blameless breast
Tarried awhile, and roused his angered soul
To reap the vengeance; last possessed the mind
Of haughty Cato.
He while yet the scales
Were poised and balanced, nor the war had given
The world its master, hating both the chiefs,
Had followed Magnus for the Senate's cause
And for his country: since Pharsalia's field
Ran red with carnage, now was all his heart
Bound to Pompeius. Rome in him received
Her guardian; a people's trembling limbs
He cherished with new hope and weapons gave
Back to the craven hands that cast them forth.
Nor yet for empire did he wage the war
Nor fearing slavery: nor in arms achieved
Aught for himself: freedom, since Magnus fell,
The aim of all his host. And lest the foe
In rapid course triumphant should collect
His scattered bands, he sought Corcyra's gulfs
Concealed, and thence in ships unnumbered bore
The fragments of the ruin wrought in Thrace.
Who in such mighty armament had thought
A routed army sailed upon the main
Thronging the sea with keels? Round Malea's cape
And Taenarus open to the shades below
And fair Cythera's isle, th' advancing fleet
[...] Read more
poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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I. The Ring and the Book
Do you see this Ring?
'T is Rome-work, made to match
(By Castellani's imitative craft)
Etrurian circlets found, some happy morn,
After a dropping April; found alive
Spark-like 'mid unearthed slope-side figtree-roots
That roof old tombs at Chiusi: soft, you see,
Yet crisp as jewel-cutting. There's one trick,
(Craftsmen instruct me) one approved device
And but one, fits such slivers of pure gold
As this was,—such mere oozings from the mine,
Virgin as oval tawny pendent tear
At beehive-edge when ripened combs o'erflow,—
To bear the file's tooth and the hammer's tap:
Since hammer needs must widen out the round,
And file emboss it fine with lily-flowers,
Ere the stuff grow a ring-thing right to wear.
That trick is, the artificer melts up wax
With honey, so to speak; he mingles gold
With gold's alloy, and, duly tempering both,
Effects a manageable mass, then works:
But his work ended, once the thing a ring,
Oh, there's repristination! Just a spirt
O' the proper fiery acid o'er its face,
And forth the alloy unfastened flies in fume;
While, self-sufficient now, the shape remains,
The rondure brave, the lilied loveliness,
Gold as it was, is, shall be evermore:
Prime nature with an added artistry—
No carat lost, and you have gained a ring.
What of it? 'T is a figure, a symbol, say;
A thing's sign: now for the thing signified.
Do you see this square old yellow Book, I toss
I' the air, and catch again, and twirl about
By the crumpled vellum covers,—pure crude fact
Secreted from man's life when hearts beat hard,
And brains, high-blooded, ticked two centuries since?
Examine it yourselves! I found this book,
Gave a lira for it, eightpence English just,
(Mark the predestination!) when a Hand,
Always above my shoulder, pushed me once,
One day still fierce 'mid many a day struck calm,
Across a Square in Florence, crammed with booths,
Buzzing and blaze, noontide and market-time,
Toward Baccio's marble,—ay, the basement-ledge
O' the pedestal where sits and menaces
John of the Black Bands with the upright spear,
'Twixt palace and church,—Riccardi where they lived,
His race, and San Lorenzo where they lie.
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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S. N. A. F. U.
Now, the industry has got me thinking twice
Thinking with the treble mix, gotta shake em like dice
Let the whole world know I cant go for that
Girls know that I got gold and stacks
In every cul de sac from the streets to the clubs
Im making hits and everybodys showing love
Fact is Im back and Im rolling like jackson
Wont stop until Im back at multi platinum
So I start with some action, Im the main attraction
Here to lie down to the west crackin
Stackin big chips, holmes, gotta get em
Hauling in lots of residuals, what you got
You cant choose me
Bring it to you live for the year 2g
Situation normal all fu_ked up
Situation normal all fu_ked up
Situation normal all fu_ked up
Situation normal all fu_ked up
Thought I was a puppet you tried to play me
Yeah - and Im going crazy
Thought I was a puppet you tried to play me
No - you never ever made me
Thought I was a puppet you tried to play me
Yeah - and Im going crazy
Thought I was a puppet you tried to play me
No - Im all fu_ked up
Yo, ice its jim splice me in - no, stop
Begin, pause, cause I gotta call the next of kin
Tell em where you been, tell em that youre ok
Doa, here say, no way, wont say
Dead yes, dead all, not dead and gone
Like a multi-leader, a little bit withdrawn
Time and go like a vicious cycle
Then wham, make em think that you are coming out like george michael
On par to make people to turn in no sooner
Hook, line, and sinker; like charlie the tuna
Drop the hero and get with the zero
Ill try to keep it clean like mr. belvedere
Fu_k me, fu_k you, fu_k the single
Dont want to take it in the can, youre not pringles
But once you pop you cant stop
So dont interrupt - situation normal all fu_ked up
Situation normal all fu_ked up
Situation normal all fu_ked up
Situation normal all fu_ked up
Situation normal all fu_ked up
Thought I was a puppet you tried to play me
Yeah - and Im going crazy
Thought I was a puppet you tried to play me
No - you never ever made me
[...] Read more
song performed by Vanilla Ice
Added by Lucian Velea
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Annus Mirabilis, The Year Of Wonders, 1666
1
In thriving arts long time had Holland grown,
Crouching at home and cruel when abroad:
Scarce leaving us the means to claim our own;
Our King they courted, and our merchants awed.
2
Trade, which, like blood, should circularly flow,
Stopp'd in their channels, found its freedom lost:
Thither the wealth of all the world did go,
And seem'd but shipwreck'd on so base a coast.
3
For them alone the heavens had kindly heat;
In eastern quarries ripening precious dew:
For them the Idumaean balm did sweat,
And in hot Ceylon spicy forests grew.
4
The sun but seem'd the labourer of the year;
Each waxing moon supplied her watery store,
To swell those tides, which from the line did bear
Their brimful vessels to the Belgian shore.
5
Thus mighty in her ships, stood Carthage long,
And swept the riches of the world from far;
Yet stoop'd to Rome, less wealthy, but more strong:
And this may prove our second Punic war.
6
What peace can be, where both to one pretend?
(But they more diligent, and we more strong)
Or if a peace, it soon must have an end;
For they would grow too powerful, were it long.
7
Behold two nations, then, engaged so far
That each seven years the fit must shake each land:
Where France will side to weaken us by war,
Who only can his vast designs withstand.
8
See how he feeds the Iberian with delays,
To render us his timely friendship vain:
And while his secret soul on Flanders preys,
He rocks the cradle of the babe of Spain.
9
Such deep designs of empire does he lay
[...] Read more
poem by John Dryden
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The Ballad of the White Horse
DEDICATION
Of great limbs gone to chaos,
A great face turned to night--
Why bend above a shapeless shroud
Seeking in such archaic cloud
Sight of strong lords and light?
Where seven sunken Englands
Lie buried one by one,
Why should one idle spade, I wonder,
Shake up the dust of thanes like thunder
To smoke and choke the sun?
In cloud of clay so cast to heaven
What shape shall man discern?
These lords may light the mystery
Of mastery or victory,
And these ride high in history,
But these shall not return.
Gored on the Norman gonfalon
The Golden Dragon died:
We shall not wake with ballad strings
The good time of the smaller things,
We shall not see the holy kings
Ride down by Severn side.
Stiff, strange, and quaintly coloured
As the broidery of Bayeux
The England of that dawn remains,
And this of Alfred and the Danes
Seems like the tales a whole tribe feigns
Too English to be true.
Of a good king on an island
That ruled once on a time;
And as he walked by an apple tree
There came green devils out of the sea
With sea-plants trailing heavily
And tracks of opal slime.
Yet Alfred is no fairy tale;
His days as our days ran,
He also looked forth for an hour
On peopled plains and skies that lower,
From those few windows in the tower
That is the head of a man.
But who shall look from Alfred's hood
[...] Read more
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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Rose Mary
Of her two fights with the Beryl-stone
Lost the first, but the second won.
PART I
“MARY mine that art Mary's Rose
Come in to me from the garden-close.
The sun sinks fast with the rising dew,
And we marked not how the faint moon grew;
But the hidden stars are calling you.
“Tall Rose Mary, come to my side,
And read the stars if you'd be a bride.
In hours whose need was not your own,
While you were a young maid yet ungrown
You've read the stars in the Beryl-stone.
“Daughter, once more I bid you read;
But now let it be for your own need:
Because to-morrow, at break of day,
To Holy Cross he rides on his way,
Your knight Sir James of Heronhaye.
“Ere he wed you, flower of mine,
For a heavy shrift he seeks the shrine.
Now hark to my words and do not fear;
Ill news next I have for your ear;
But be you strong, and our help is here.
“On his road, as the rumour's rife,
An ambush waits to take his life.
He needs will go, and will go alone;
Where the peril lurks may not be known;
But in this glass all things are shown.”
Pale Rose Mary sank to the floor:—
“The night will come if the day is o'er!”
“Nay, heaven takes counsel, star with star,
And help shall reach your heart from afar:
A bride you'll be, as a maid you are.”
The lady unbound her jewelled zone
And drew from her robe the Beryl-stone.
Shaped it was to a shadowy sphere,—
World of our world, the sun's compeer,
That bears and buries the toiling year.
With shuddering light 'twas stirred and strewn
Like the cloud-nest of the wading moon:
Freaked it was as the bubble's ball,
Rainbow-hued through a misty pall
Like the middle light of the waterfall.
Shadows dwelt in its teeming girth
Of the known and unknown things of earth;
The cloud above and the wave around,—
The central fire at the sphere's heart bound,
Like doomsday prisoned underground.
[...] Read more
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Dr Surds Rocket
Heres a story about a bad guy
Who you may not have heard.
Hes mean, evil and ugly and he also is a robot
And his name is dr surd.
With julia operatin quest world
And lorenzo goin mad,
Hell put poke-balls in his aerodactyl plane
And make leave makin me look bad.
(chorus)
Its dr surds rocket.
Its dr surds rocket.
Its dr surds rocket.
Its dr surds rocket.
Race and dadll kick his ass in.
Estella and hadji fight real poke-tough.
Me and jessie will fight good with evil
And make him feel like a jigglypuff.
Lorenzos arbokll kill you
And julias mewtwoll drive you insane.
Dr surds pidgeot will blind you like mad
And put you in his aerodactyl plane.
(chorus)
Its dr surds rocket.
Its dr surds rocket.
Its dr surds rocket.
Its dr surds rocket.
Sometimes I feel like I wanna kick his ass in.
It happens all the time.
Once I heard he was goin round in circles
And talkin in rhyme.
The surd squad have so many pokemon,
You can barely count them all.
Lorenzo told us in total,there were 24.
With julia, hes standin tall.
Dr surd is crazy.
He is nowhere.
I know for one,
The surd squads square.
(chorus)
Its dr surds rocket.
Its dr surds rocket.
Its dr surds rocket.
Its dr surds rocket.
song performed by Huey Lewis And The News
Added by Lucian Velea
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Nothin' On
in this day and time of metal magic
we need rock and roll
we need PANTERA!
I didn't wanna touch you
since we were both sixteen
didn't wanna take you down
and show you what love means
now is the time
this is the place
get ready to take a chance
we don't have a minute to waste
ride my rocket
wear me out
ride my rocket
make me twist and shout
ride my rocket
give me all of your love
ride my rocket
I just can't get enough.
You leave me breathless
when you walk by
the way you move it girl
makes you satisfy
You might be the best
that i've ever had
it's gotta be good girl
cuz it looks so bad
ride my rocket
wear me out
ride my rocket
make me twist and shout
ride my rocket
give me all of your love
ride my rocket
I just can't get enough.
*guitar solo*
feels so good
makes my heart break
every time you touch me
i explode into flames
ride my rocket
wear me out
ride my rocket
make me twist and shout
ride my rocket
give me all of your love
ride my rocket
I just can't get enough.
song performed by Pantera
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ride My Rocket
In this day and time of metal magic
We need rock and roll
We need pantera!
I didnt wanna touch you
Since we were both sixteen
Didnt wanna take you down
And show you what love means
Now is the time
This is the place
Get ready to take a chance
We dont have a minute to waste
Ride my rocket
Wear me out
Ride my rocket
Make me twist and shout
Ride my rocket
Give me all of your love
Ride my rocket
I just cant get enough.
You leave me breathless
When you walk by
The way you move it girl
Makes you satisfy
You might be the best
That Ive ever had
Its gotta be good girl
Cuz it looks so bad
Ride my rocket
Wear me out
Ride my rocket
Make me twist and shout
Ride my rocket
Give me all of your love
Ride my rocket
I just cant get enough.
*guitar solo*
Feels so good
Makes my heart break
Every time you touch me
I explode into flames
Ride my rocket
Wear me out
Ride my rocket
Make me twist and shout
Ride my rocket
Give me all of your love
Ride my rocket
I just cant get enough.
song performed by Pantera
Added by Lucian Velea
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Orlando Furioso Canto 18
ARGUMENT
Gryphon is venged. Sir Mandricardo goes
In search of Argier's king. Charles wins the fight.
Marphisa Norandino's men o'erthrows.
Due pains Martano's cowardice requite.
A favouring wind Marphisa's gallery blows,
For France with Gryphon bound and many a knight.
The field Medoro and Cloridano tread,
And find their monarch Dardinello dead.
I
High minded lord! your actions evermore
I have with reason lauded, and still laud;
Though I with style inapt, and rustic lore,
You of large portion of your praise defraud:
But, of your many virtues, one before
All others I with heart and tongue applaud,
- That, if each man a gracious audience finds,
No easy faith your equal judgment blinds.
II
Often, to shield the absent one from blame,
I hear you this, or other, thing adduce;
Or him you let, at least, an audience claim,
Where still one ear is open to excuse:
And before dooming men to scaith and shame,
To see and hear them ever is your use;
And ere you judge another, many a day,
And month, and year, your sentence to delay.
III
Had Norandine been with your care endued,
What he by Gryphon did, he had not done.
Profit and fame have from your rule accrued:
A stain more black than pitch he cast upon
His name: through him, his people were pursued
And put to death by Olivero's son;
Who at ten cuts or thrusts, in fury made,
Some thirty dead about the waggon laid.
IV
Whither fear drives, in rout, the others all,
Some scattered here, some there, on every side,
Fill road and field; to gain the city-wall
Some strive, and smothered in the mighty tide,
One on another, in the gateway fall.
Gryphon, all thought of pity laid aside,
Threats not nor speaks, but whirls his sword about,
Well venging on the crowd their every flout.
[...] Read more
poem by Ludovico Ariosto
Added by Poetry Lover
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