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I have no stories to sell. A lot of my relationships are with civilians, and no one wants to hear about those.

quote by David Spade
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sell Me A Coat

La la la la la la la la la la la la la
A winters day, a bitter snowflake on my face
My summer girl takes little backward steps away
Jack frost took her hand and left me, jack frost aint so cool
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
And when she smiles, the ice forgets to melt away
Not like before, her smile was warming yesterday
See the trees like silver candy, feel my icy hand
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
See my eyes, my window pane
See my tears like gentle rain
Thats the memory of a summer day
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
La la la la la la

song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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Broken Relationships

Wanting to mend them.
And to fix.
Those Broken relationships,
We came to know but miss.

Wanting to mend them.
And to fix.
Those broken relationships,
We came to know but miss.

Forgiving is easier when that act is done.
But to forget is not as quick,
As is wished.

Forgiving is easier when that act is done.
But to forget is not as quick,
As is wished.

Broken relationships,
Are hard to mend when they end.
Broken relationships,
Are hard to mend when they end.

Wanting to mend them.
And to fix.
Those Broken relationships,
We came to know but miss.

Wanting to mend them.
And to fix.
Those broken relationships,
We came to know but miss.

Forgiving is easier when that act is done.
But to forget is not as quick,
As is wished.

Broken relationships,
Are hard to mend when they end.
Broken relationships,
Are hard to mend when they end.
Broken relationships,
Are hard to mend when they end.
Broken relationships,
Are hard to mend when they end.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Thanks A Lot, Mom

Thanks a Lot, Mom

Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for loving me to no end.
Thanks for being my loving mother.
Thanks for being my thoughtful friend.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for feeding me and giving me a home.
Thanks for clothing me and holding me tight.
Thanks for caring when I felt alone.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for always making me smile.
Thanks for giving me the extra push.
Thanks for going that extra mile.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for living with no regrets.
Thanks for being the life of the party.
Thanks for going all in on bets.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for being my inspiration.
Thanks for helping me with my homework.
Thanks for giving me motivation.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for treating me with respect.
Thanks for knowing I'm growing up.
Thanks for knowing what to expect.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for kicking me while I was down.
Thanks for telling me I'm a liar.
Thanks for knowing what comes around.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for giving me my many scars.
Thanks for making me feel at home.
Thanks for breaking my aching heart.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for taking away my friends.
Thanks for taking away my family.
Thanks for not having to pretend.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for kicking me out of my home.
Thanks for calling me cheap and attention-seeking.
Thanks for putting me out on my own.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for ripping away my Brett.
Thanks for saying you don't remember.
Thanks for saying I should forget.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for believing your husband over your kid.
Thanks for rewarding him for a crime.
Thanks for punishing me for what he did.

[...] Read more

poem by Rebecca Paul
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Cry For Home

Ill be waiting
Ill be waiting on that shore
To hear the cry for home
You wont have to worry anymore
When you hear the cry for home
When you hear, hear the call
You wont have to fake at all
Hear the cry for home
Ill be standing
Ill be standing within reach
When you hear, hear the call
Ill be waiting
Ill be waiting in the breach
For you, when you hear
When you hear, hear the call
You wont have to fake at all
Hear the cry for home
(instrumental)
When I listen
When I listen to the song
Well it feels, it feels so free
And you tell me
You will come and go with me
When you hear the cry for home
When you hear the call
You wont have to think at all
Hear the cry for home
Spoken (one more, one more time)
When you hear, hear the call
You wont have to fake at all
Hear the cry for home
(one more open it up, open it up) (spoken)
When you hear, hear the call
You wont have to fake at all
Hear the cry for home
Hear (when you hear, hear the call)
Hear (when you hear, hear the call)
Hear (when you hear, hear the call)
Hear (when you hear, hear the call)
Hear (when you hear, hear the call)
Hear (when you hear, hear the call)

song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Virginia's Story

Elizabeth Gates-Wooten is my Grand mom.

She was born in Canada with her father and brothers.
They owned a Barber Shoppe.
I don't remember exactly where in Canada.
I believe it was right over the border like Windsor or Toronto.
I never knew exactly where it was.

When she was old enough she got married.

First, she married a man by the name of Frank Gates.
He was from Madagascar.
He fathered my mom and her brother and sister.
The boy's name was Frank Gates, Jr.
Two girls name were Anna and Agnes.

Agnes was my mother.

Frank Gates went crazy after the war
He drank a lot and died
Then grandma Elizabeth married a man by the name of Mr. Wooten.
He had a German name, but I don't think he was German.
She took his last name after they got married.

Then they moved to West Virginia in the United States.

Their son, Frank Gates Jr. Became a delegate in the democratic party.
He use to get into a lot of trouble because he liked to fight.
He was a delegate from the 1940's to 1970's.
He died of gout in the 1970's.

Anna was a maid and cook.

She baked cakes and stuff for people as a side line.
She had a hump on her back (scoliosis) .
She had to walk with a cane.
She could cook good though.
She did this kind of work all of her life, just like her mom, Elizabeth

They were both good cooks

They had a lot of money because they had these skills
Especially when people had parties.
Because they would make all of this food and then they would have left-overs.
We got to eat a lot of stuff we normally wouldn't get because of that.
When they cooked, they didn't use no measuring stuff, they would just use there hand.

My moms name was Agnes Barrie Gates.

She married James Wright and moved to Cleveland.

[...] Read more

poem by Talile Ali
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Dangerous Type

Can I touch you, are you out of touch
I guess I never noticed that much
Geranium lover, Im live on your wire
Oo come and take me whoever you are
Shes a lot like you
The dangerous type
Shes a lot like you
Come on and hold me tight
Oo inside angel, always upset
Keeps on forgettin that we ever met
Can I bring you out in the light
My curiositys got me tonight
Shes a lot like you
The dangerous type
Oo shes a lot like you
Come on and hold me tight
Museum directors with high shaking heads
They kick white shadows until they play dead
They want to crack your crossword smile
Oo can I take you out for awhile, yeah
Shes a lot like you
The dangerous type
Shes a lot like you
Come on and hold me tight
Shes a lot like you
The dangerous type
Shes a lot like you
Come on and hold me tight
Tonight
Shes a lot like you
The dangerous type
Shes a lot like you
Come on and hold me tight
Tonight
Shes a lot like you
The dangerous type, alright
Shes a lot like you
Come on and hold me tight
(tonight) tonight
Shes a lot like you
The dangerous type
Tonight
Shes a lot like you
Come on and hold me tight
Tonight
Shes a lot like you
The dangerous type
Shes a lot like you
Tonight
Shes a lot like you

[...] Read more

song performed by Cars
Added by Lucian Velea
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Cruel Young Lover

Do you hear me?
Do you hear me?
Do you hear me?
Do you hear me?
Do you hear me?
Do you hear me?
Just because you can
You treat me like a fool
But just because you can
Dont make it right
Can it be so hard
To be a little kind
And you could be here
With me tonight
Ive got feelings
Dont be unkind
Feelings
Dont be unkind
Feelings
Stay with me tonight
Youve been stealing
Thats so unkind
Stealing
A heart, a mind
Stealing
Stay with me tonight
Cruel young lover
Blow your mind out
Time will come when
You will find out
Time will take your cruel power away
Cruel young lover
Try to stand out
Will it always pay
To bland out?
Time will take your cruel power away
Do you hear me?
Do you hear me?
Do you hear me?
Do you hear me?
Do you hear me?
Do you hear me?
Do you hear me?
Once again youre gone
Somewhere in the night
Disappearing
Leaving me alone
The lure of city streets
The pull of unknown souls
The overpowering draw

[...] Read more

song performed by Human League
Added by Lucian Velea
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We Care A Lot

We care a lot
We care a lot
We care a lot about disasters, fires, floods and killer bees
We care a lot about nasa shuttle falling in the sea
We care a lot about starvation and the food that live aid bought
We care a lot about disease, baby, rock hudson, rock yeah!
We care a lot
We care a lot
We care a lot about the gamblers and the pushers and the freaks
We care a lot about the people who live off the street
We care a lot about the welfare of all the boys and girls
We care a lot about you people cause were out to save the world
Yeah!
(chorus) and its a dirty job but someones got to do it!
We care a lot about the army, navy, air force, and marines
We care a lot about the ny, sf, and lapd
We care a lot about you people, about your guns
We care a lot about the wars youre fighting, gee, that looks like fun
We care a lot about the cabbage patch, the smurfs, and dmc
We care a lot about madonna and we cop for mr.t
We care a lot about the little things, the bigger things we top
We care a lot about you people, yeah, you bet we care a lot
(chorus) and its a dirty job but someones gotta do it....

song performed by Faith No More
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mama Says

Eat a lot sleep a lot brush em like crazy
Run a lot do a lot never be lazy
(good boy)
Eat a lot sleep a lot brush em like crazy
Run a lot do a lot never be lazy
Eat a lot sleep a lot brush em like crazy
Run a lot do a lot never be lazy
Eat a lot sleep a lot brush em like crazy
Run a lot do a lot never be lazy
Never be lazy be lazy
Eat a lot sleep a lot brush em like crazy
Run a lot do a lot never be lazy boy
Poof!

song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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If It Was About A Lot Of Money

If it was about a lot of money...
My mind would be,
Trimmed in dollar bills.
With-my-thoughts-on a million of them,
And a caring less of my fellowman.

And if it was about a lot of money...
I'd ignore,
Every two cents made.
By anybody wanting to deliver to me,
Any consciousness attached to common sense.

If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money...
I wouldn't be concerned about the suffering seen.

And if it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
And if it was about a lot of money...
My eyes wouldn't cry when I see these scenes.

If it was about a lot of money...
My mind would be,
Trimmed in dollar bills.
With-my-thoughts-on a million of them,
And a caring less of my fellowman.

If it was about a lot of money...
I'd ignore,
Every two cents made.
By anybody wanting to deliver to me,
Any consciousness to instigate.

If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money...
I wouldn't be concerned about the suffering seen.

I'd fill my pockets and get away!
If it was about a lot of money.
I'd fill my pockets each and everyday.
If it was about a lot of money.
I'd fill my pockets and get away!
If it was about a lot of money.
I'd fill my pockets up and run the other way.
If it was about a lot of money.

If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Everybodys Selling Something

More 4/4s in the neighborhood
Banging on the same guitar
Dreaming of living in hollywood
Puffing on a big cigar
Prima ballerina in a magazine
Call her on the telephone
Tell her that youre sending up a limousine
She say: I dont know...
I know where to go!
Now 4/4s in a different mood
Thinks hes gonna change the world
Making all the money that some others should
Guess its cause we dont deserve
Meet a lot of people in a magazine
Tell you where not to go
Tell you that Im living out a fantasy
You say: you dont know
They play me on the radio
You gotta walk before you crawl
Remember everybodys selling something
You gotta talk before you know
Remember everybodys selling something
Theres like a racket on the ball
Remember everybody wants attention
You gotta rock before you roll
Remember everybodys selling something
Sell me something
Sell me something
Sell me something
Now!
Now 4/4s into mother earth
Hurry up and wait t.v.
Funny how your lifell take a different turn
And how you get to dance for free
See a lot of freedom in your magazine?
Does it tell you what you want to know?
Tell you once and maybe twice and maybe three times
Thats all right!
Were coming out in stereo!!!
You gotta walk before you crawl
Remember everybodys selling something
You gotta talk before you know
Remember everybodys selling something
Theres like a racket on the ball
Remember everybody wants attention
You gotta rock before you roll
Remember everybodys selling something
Sell me something
Sell me something
Sell me something

[...] Read more

song performed by Men Without Hats
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Political Fruit: A Political Solution!

A yokel’s assessment
loft pigeon holing
key kiwi politics
for term year 2001.

Under Labouring Leadership
exhibited by Prime Minister.
Housewife mentality not
her honourable Helen Clark.

“I’m glad I’m a kiwi
in the land of the free(?)
I wish I was a dog
and Jenny Shipley was a tree! ”

That former National Leader
of the N.Z. Socialist Welfare State.
Effectively exterminated some of
the old the sick the maimed not retained.
The (destained) . Supposedly unemployable.
Through effective long hospital waiting lists.
Patients patiently dying in sickening turn.
Waiting for their turn lifetime tax paid for.

Grossly government underfunded operations.
Patients could not live long enough to have.
Contrast increasing youth adult suicide rates.
Highlights dispirited dispossessed chose to die.
Rather than live with unstomachable shame.
Shame for their families to deal with if had one.

National gave their last paid jobs away to
cheaper ill fated foreign third world workers.
To even more socially exploited workers.
In even more exploited less fortunate lands.

Ensuring aspiring elite rich may free trade
grossing ever more greed upon greed
sweat and misery maximized equating to
an advanced global industrial slavery.

As Neo-liberal policies bite ever harder.

“Full employment is necessary
for capitalism
to grow”; did you never realize!

Shrinking profit rates! Economic Solution?

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Can You Hear Me

Can you hear me
I must have been blind to leave you this way
It's hard to say I miss you
I can't live without your love
Can you hear me can you hear me
I know you've got the key
With you I feel so strong
Can you hear me can you hear me
Your love can set me free
I know that I was wrong
Let us try again just one more time
Let the love we found be back cause your's mine
One more chance we're gonna taste it
Now or never no time to waste it
Hold me the moonlight is shining bright
Touch my body soft tonight and tight
Your love's so strong
I'm dreamin' of you all night long
Can you hear me can you hear me
I know you've got the key
With you I feel so strong
Can you hear me can you hear me
Your love can set me free
I know that I was wrong
What I'm gonna do
Can you guide me through
Oh can you hear me
Where are you
What I'm gonna do
Can you guide me through
Oh can you hear me
Where are you
Original you need like a melody
The harder I try the bigger is the tragedy
Heartbeat energy for now and eternaly
Take my dreams and be my destiny
I feel there is a vibration
You and me as one what a combination
Love is the promtantation
Can you hear me my imagination
Can you hear me can you hear me
I know you've got the key
With you I feel so strong
Can you hear me can you hear me
Your love can set me free
I know that I was wrong
Can you hear me can you hear me
I know you've got the key
With you I feel so strong
Can you hear me can you hear me

[...] Read more

song performed by DJ Bobo
Added by Lucian Velea
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Salut Au Monde

O TAKE my hand, Walt Whitman!
Such gliding wonders! such sights and sounds!
Such join'd unended links, each hook'd to the next!
Each answering all--each sharing the earth with all.

What widens within you, Walt Whitman?
What waves and soils exuding?
What climes? what persons and lands are here?
Who are the infants? some playing, some slumbering?
Who are the girls? who are the married women?
Who are the groups of old men going slowly with their arms about each
other's necks?
What rivers are these? what forests and fruits are these?
What are the mountains call'd that rise so high in the mists?
What myriads of dwellings are they, fill'd with dwellers?

Within me latitude widens, longitude lengthens;
Asia, Africa, Europe, are to the east--America is provided for in the
west;
Banding the bulge of the earth winds the hot equator,
Curiously north and south turn the axis-ends;
Within me is the longest day--the sun wheels in slanting rings--it
does not set for months;
Stretch'd in due time within me the midnight sun just rises above the
horizon, and sinks again;
Within me zones, seas, cataracts, plants, volcanoes, groups,
Malaysia, Polynesia, and the great West Indian islands.

What do you hear, Walt Whitman?

I hear the workman singing, and the farmer's wife singing;
I hear in the distance the sounds of children, and of animals early
in the day;
I hear quick rifle-cracks from the riflemen of East Tennessee and
Kentucky, hunting on hills;
I hear emulous shouts of Australians, pursuing the wild horse;
I hear the Spanish dance, with castanets, in the chestnut shade, to
the rebeck and guitar;
I hear continual echoes from the Thames;
I hear fierce French liberty songs;
I hear of the Italian boat-sculler the musical recitative of old
poems;
I hear the Virginia plantation-chorus of negroes, of a harvest night,
in the glare of pine-knots;
I hear the strong baritone of the 'long-shore-men of Mannahatta;
I hear the stevedores unlading the cargoes, and singing;
I hear the screams of the water-fowl of solitary north-west lakes;
I hear the rustling pattering of locusts, as they strike the grain
and grass with the showers of their terrible clouds;
I hear the Coptic refrain, toward sundown, pensively falling on the

[...] Read more

poem by Walt Whitman
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Too Much Of Anything

I think these hands have felt a lot,
I think these hands have felt a lot,
I dont know, what have I touched,
I dont know, what have I touched,
I think these eyes have seen a lot,
I think these eyes have seen a lot,
I dont know, maybe theyve seen too much.
I dont know, maybe theyve seen too much.
I think this brain has thought a lot,
I think this brain has thought a lot,
Searching, trying to find the crutch,
Searching, trying to find the crutch,
I think this heart has bled once too often,
I think this heart has bled once too often,
This time its bled a bit too much.
This time its bled a bit too much.
Too much of anything, too much for me,
Too much of anything, too much for me,
Too much of everything gets too much for me.
Too much of everything gets too much for me.
I cant remember before 49,
I cant remember before 49,
But I know that 48 was there,
But I know that 48 was there,
My ears let in what I should speak out,
My ears let in what I should speak out,
Hmmm, theres something in the air.
Hmmm, theres something in the air.
Ooh, Ive overloaded on my way,
Ooh, Ive overloaded on my way,
Bye, bye, bye, bye, you better keep in touch.
Bye, bye, bye, bye, you better keep in touch.
Think your ears hear a whole lot of music,
Think your ears hear a whole lot of music,
And like me theyve caught a bit too much.
And like me theyve caught a bit too much.
Too much of anything, is too much for me,
Too much of anything, is too much for me,
Too much of everything gets too much for me.
Too much of everything gets too much for me.
I think these hands have felt a lot,
I think these hands have felt a lot,
I dont know, what have I touched,
I dont know, what have I touched,
I think these eyes have seen a lot,
I think these eyes have seen a lot,
I dont know, maybe theyve seen too much.
I dont know, maybe theyve seen too much.
I think this brain has thought a lot,
I think this brain has thought a lot,

[...] Read more

song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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Wonderous Stories

(anderson)
I awoke this morning
Love laid me down by a river.
Drifting I turned on upstream
Bound for my forgiver.
In the giving of my eyes to see your face.
Sound did silence me
Leaving no trace.
I beg to leave, to hear your wonderous stories.
Beg to hear your wonderous stories.
He spoke of lands not far
Or lands they were in his mind.
Of fusion captured high
Where reason captured his time.
In no time at all he took me to the gate.
In haste I quickly checked the time.
If I was late I had to leave to hear your wonderous stories.
Had to hear your wonderous stories.
Hearing
Hearing
Hearing your wonderous stories.
Hearing your wonderous stories.
It is no lie I can see deeply into the future.
Imagine everything
Youre close
And were you there to stand
So cautiously at first and then so high.
As he spoke my spirit climbed into the sky.
I bid it to return
To hear your wonderous stories.
Return to hear your wonderous stories.
Hearing,
Hearing,
Hearing,
Hearing,
Hearing,

song performed by Yes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Wondrous Stories

I awoke this morning
Love laid me down by a river.
Drifting I turned on upstream
Bound for my forgiver.
In the giving of my eyes to see your face.
Sound did silence me
Leaving no trace.
I beg to leave, to hear your wonderous stories.
Beg to hear your wonderous stories.
He spoke of lands not far
Or lands they were in his mind.
Of fusion captured high
Where reason captured his time.
In no time at all he took me to the gate.
In haste I quickly checked the time.
If I was late I had to leave to hear your wonderous stories.
Had to hear your wonderous stories.
Hearing
Hearing
Hearing your wonderous stories.
Hearing your wonderous stories.
It is no lie I can see deeply into the future.
Imagine everything
Youre close
And were you there to stand
So cautiously at first and then so high.
As he spoke my spirit climbed into the sky.
I bid it to return
To hear your wonderous stories.
Return to hear your wonderous stories.
Hearing,
Hearing,
Hearing,
Hearing,
Hearing,

song performed by Yes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Wonderous Stories

(anderson)
I awoke this morning
Love laid me down by a river.
Drifting I turned on upstream
Bound for my forgiver.
In the giving of my eyes to see your face.
Sound did silence me
Leaving no trace.
I beg to leave, to hear your wonderous stories.
Beg to hear your wonderous stories.
He spoke of lands not far
Or lands they were in his mind.
Of fusion captured high
Where reason captured his time.
In no time at all he took me to the gate.
In haste I quickly checked the time.
If I was late I had to leave to hear your wonderous stories.
Had to hear your wonderous stories.
Hearing
Hearing
Hearing your wonderous stories.
Hearing your wonderous stories.
It is no lie I can see deeply into the future.
Imagine everything
Youre close
And were you there to stand
So cautiously at first and then so high.
As he spoke my spirit climbed into the sky.
I bid it to return
To hear your wonderous stories.
Return to hear your wonderous stories.
Hearing,
Hearing,
Hearing,
Hearing,
Hearing,

song performed by Yes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Wondrous Stories

I awoke this morning
Love laid me down by a river.
Drifting I turned on upstream
Bound for my forgiver.
In the giving of my eyes to see your face.
Sound did silence me
Leaving no trace.
I beg to leave, to hear your wonderous stories.
Beg to hear your wonderous stories.
He spoke of lands not far
Or lands they were in his mind.
Of fusion captured high
Where reason captured his time.
In no time at all he took me to the gate.
In haste I quickly checked the time.
If I was late I had to leave to hear your wonderous stories.
Had to hear your wonderous stories.
Hearing
Hearing
Hearing your wonderous stories.
Hearing your wonderous stories.
It is no lie I can see deeply into the future.
Imagine everything
Youre close
And were you there to stand
So cautiously at first and then so high.
As he spoke my spirit climbed into the sky.
I bid it to return
To hear your wonderous stories.
Return to hear your wonderous stories.
Hearing,
Hearing,
Hearing,
Hearing,
Hearing,

song performed by Yes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Marriage Bonds

“I never looked for any marriage bond, ”
said Heloise to Abelard.
She knew that marriage is no magic wand,
despite the popular canard
that it consolidates relationships
that would be broken otherwise.
A lovely face can’t launch a thousand ships,
and marriage fails as a franchise
unless, instead of drifting without ease
into the boredom of routine,
the married couple sails like ships on seas,
not stretching in a limousine,
but tossed by waves whose turbulence ensures
that all emotions that they’ve felt
will amplify and not disarm amours,
providing them not a lifelovebelt,
but surfboard with which they can catch the waves,
not drowning since they do not tread
upon the other’s dreams, not bound like slaves
to rings that bound them when first wed.

Inspired by Katie Roiphe’s review of “A Vindication of Love” by Cristina Nehring in the NYT Book Review, June 21 (“Feverish Limitations”) :
Feverish Liaisons, Katie Rophe, June 21,2009
Publishers. $24.99
For most of us love is largely a matter of shared mortgage payments, evenings curled up on the couch in front of a video, or maybe a night in a hotel for an anniversary. But Cristina Nehring has a different idea. Her ardent polemic, “A Vindication of Love, ” puts forward a darker, more demanding vision of love. This is not, it should be said right away, a book without ambition: the subtitle is “Reclaiming Romance for the Twenty-First Century, ” though it is not exactly romance Nehring is writing about, but a more difficult, vital image of passion she believes we have lost. “We have been pragmatic and pedestrian about our erotic lives for too long, ” she writes, and in an examination of real and invented figures from the Wife of Bath to Frida Kahlo, she revels in love affairs that do not rely on our more hackneyed narratives. The result of Nehring’s literary and historical inquiry is a celebration of the wilder, messier connections. Her heroes and heroines tend to die, like Young Werther, who shoots himself; or try to die, like Mary Wollstonecraft, who throws herself off a bridge; or suffer, like Abelard and Heloise, one of whom is castrated and one of whom ends up in a nunnery. And yet Nehring admires these flamboyant men and women for the creative force of their affairs, for their ability to live outside the lines, for the ferocity of their feelings. She sees our modern goals of marriage, security and comfort as limited and sad, and quotes approvingly Heloise’s statement to Abelard: “‘I looked for no marriage bond, ’ she flashed. ‘I never sought anything in you but yourself.’ ”
In her most provocative and interesting chapters, Nehring argues for the value of suffering, for the importance of failure. Our idea of a contented married ending is too cozy and tame for her. We yearn for what she calls “strenuously exhibitionistic happiness” — think of family photos on Facebook — but instead we should focus on the fullness and intensity of emotion. She writes of Margaret Fuller: “Fuller’s failures are several times more sumptuous than other folks’ successes. And perhaps that is something we need to admit about failure: It can well be more sumptuous than success.... Somewhere in our collective unconscious we know — even now — that to have failed is to have lived.” Nehring sees in the grandeur of feeling a kind of heroism, even if the relationship doesn’t take conventional form or endure in the conventional way. For Nehring, one senses, true failure is to drift comfortably along in a dull relationship, to spend precious years of life in a marriage that is not exciting or satisfying, to live cautiously, responsibly. Is the strength of feeling redeemed in the blaze of passion even if it does not end happily? she asks. Is contentment too soft and modest a goal? Elsewhere, Nehring interrogates our steadfast insistence on balanced, healthy relationships, our readiness to condemn doomed, impossible entanglements. She argues that it may in fact be a sign of health to enter into a relationship that is turbulent, demanding or unorthodox. She praises long-distance relationships, arduous relationships, relationships with men who are elusive, relationships the therapeutic culture adamantly opposes. She asks, “Could it be that the choice of a challenging love object signals strength and resourcefulness rather than insecurity and psychological damage, as we so often hear? ”

6/26/09

poem by Gershon Hepner
Added by Poetry Lover
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