Tempted
I walk down the street
A pretty woman passes
I stop, turn and stare.
Her bottom wiggles
Oooh, I’m tempted
Then my conscience kicks in
To remind me that
I have a wife, three kids and a cat
30 Jan 2007
poem by David Harris
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[...] Read more
poem by Caasder Fronds
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Miss You
I've been holding out so long
I've been sleeping all alone
Lord I miss you
I've been hanging on the phone
I've been sleeping all alone
I want to kiss you
Oooh oooh oooh oooh oooh oooh oooh
Oooh oooh oooh oooh oooh oooh oooh
Oooh oooh oooh
Oooh oooh oooh oooh oooh oooh oooh
Oooh oooh oooh oooh oooh oooh oooh
Oooh oooh oooh oooh
Well
song performed by Rolling Stones from Some Girls
Added by Lucian Velea
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Cameron
Cameron the cat would never miss a trick –
Often in the garden on patrol.
Otherwise sleeping, though frequently meeting
His one and only love – that earthen bowl!
Cameron the cat took everything for granted -
Sure, the street lay under his control.
Contentedly snoozing – perhaps he 'd been boozing –
And toasting all that counts: his dearest bowl!
Cameron the cat would seek to take advantage –
His gullible owners often on parole.
Purring pathetically, and almost poetically,
He'd meow them into stacking up his bowl!
Cameron the cat was nonetheless a gem –
His owners saw him as their heart and soul,
But having to accept that he was so adept
At persuading them to fill his flipping bowl!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
[...] Read more
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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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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Tale XIV
THE STRUGGLES OF CONSCIENCE.
A serious Toyman in the city dwelt,
Who much concern for his religion felt;
Reading, he changed his tenets, read again,
And various questions could with skill maintain;
Papist and Quaker if we set aside,
He had the road of every traveller tried;
There walk'd a while, and on a sudden turn'd
Into some by-way he had just discern'd:
He had a nephew, Fulham: --Fulham went
His Uncle's way, with every turn content;
He saw his pious kinsman's watchful care,
And thought such anxious pains his own might spare,
And he the truth obtain'd, without the toil, might
share.
In fact, young Fulham, though he little read,
Perceived his uncle was by fancy led;
And smiled to see the constant care he took,
Collating creed with creed, and book with book.
At length the senior fix'd; I pass the sect
He call'd a Church, 'twas precious and elect;
Yet the seed fell not in the richest soil,
For few disciples paid the preacher's toil;
All in an attic room were wont to meet,
These few disciples, at their pastor's feet;
With these went Fulham, who, discreet and grave,
Follow'd the light his worthy uncle gave;
Till a warm Preacher found the way t'impart
Awakening feelings to his torpid heart:
Some weighty truths, and of unpleasant kind,
Sank, though resisted, in his struggling mind:
He wish'd to fly them, but, compell'd to stay,
Truth to the waking Conscience found her way;
For though the Youth was call'd a prudent lad,
And prudent was, yet serious faults he had -
Who now reflected--'Much am I surprised;
I find these notions cannot be despised:
No! there is something I perceive at last,
Although my uncle cannot hold it fast;
Though I the strictness of these men reject,
Yet I determine to be circumspect:
This man alarms me, and I must begin
To look more closely to the things within:
These sons of zeal have I derided long,
But now begin to think the laugher's wrong!
Nay, my good uncle, by all teachers moved,
Will be preferr'd to him who none approved; -
Better to love amiss than nothing to have loved.'
[...] Read more
poem by George Crabbe
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III. The Other Half-Rome
Another day that finds her living yet,
Little Pompilia, with the patient brow
And lamentable smile on those poor lips,
And, under the white hospital-array,
A flower-like body, to frighten at a bruise
You'd think, yet now, stabbed through and through again,
Alive i' the ruins. 'T is a miracle.
It seems that, when her husband struck her first,
She prayed Madonna just that she might live
So long as to confess and be absolved;
And whether it was that, all her sad life long
Never before successful in a prayer,
This prayer rose with authority too dread,—
Or whether, because earth was hell to her,
By compensation, when the blackness broke
She got one glimpse of quiet and the cool blue,
To show her for a moment such things were,—
Or else,—as the Augustinian Brother thinks,
The friar who took confession from her lip,—
When a probationary soul that moved
From nobleness to nobleness, as she,
Over the rough way of the world, succumbs,
Bloodies its last thorn with unflinching foot,
The angels love to do their work betimes,
Staunch some wounds here nor leave so much for God.
Who knows? However it be, confessed, absolved,
She lies, with overplus of life beside
To speak and right herself from first to last,
Right the friend also, lamb-pure, lion-brave,
Care for the boy's concerns, to save the son
From the sire, her two-weeks' infant orphaned thus,
And—with best smile of all reserved for him—
Pardon that sire and husband from the heart.
A miracle, so tell your Molinists!
There she lies in the long white lazar-house.
Rome has besieged, these two days, never doubt,
Saint Anna's where she waits her death, to hear
Though but the chink o' the bell, turn o' the hinge
When the reluctant wicket opes at last,
Lets in, on now this and now that pretence,
Too many by half,—complain the men of art,—
For a patient in such plight. The lawyers first
Paid the due visit—justice must be done;
They took her witness, why the murder was.
Then the priests followed properly,—a soul
To shrive; 't was Brother Celestine's own right,
The same who noises thus her gifts abroad.
But many more, who found they were old friends,
Pushed in to have their stare and take their talk
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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V. Count Guido Franceschini
Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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IV. Tertium Quid
True, Excellency—as his Highness says,
Though she's not dead yet, she's as good as stretched
Symmetrical beside the other two;
Though he's not judged yet, he's the same as judged,
So do the facts abound and superabound:
And nothing hinders that we lift the case
Out of the shade into the shine, allow
Qualified persons to pronounce at last,
Nay, edge in an authoritative word
Between this rabble's-brabble of dolts and fools
Who make up reasonless unreasoning Rome.
"Now for the Trial!" they roar: "the Trial to test
"The truth, weigh husband and weigh wife alike
"I' the scales of law, make one scale kick the beam!"
Law's a machine from which, to please the mob,
Truth the divinity must needs descend
And clear things at the play's fifth act—aha!
Hammer into their noddles who was who
And what was what. I tell the simpletons
"Could law be competent to such a feat
"'T were done already: what begins next week
"Is end o' the Trial, last link of a chain
"Whereof the first was forged three years ago
"When law addressed herself to set wrong right,
"And proved so slow in taking the first step
"That ever some new grievance,—tort, retort,
"On one or the other side,—o'ertook i' the game,
"Retarded sentence, till this deed of death
"Is thrown in, as it were, last bale to boat
"Crammed to the edge with cargo—or passengers?
"'Trecentos inseris: ohe, jam satis est!
"'Huc appelle!'—passengers, the word must be."
Long since, the boat was loaded to my eyes.
To hear the rabble and brabble, you'd call the case
Fused and confused past human finding out.
One calls the square round, t' other the round square—
And pardonably in that first surprise
O' the blood that fell and splashed the diagram:
But now we've used our eyes to the violent hue
Can't we look through the crimson and trace lines?
It makes a man despair of history,
Eusebius and the established fact—fig's end!
Oh, give the fools their Trial, rattle away
With the leash of lawyers, two on either side—
One barks, one bites,—Masters Arcangeli
And Spreti,—that's the husband's ultimate hope
Against the Fisc and the other kind of Fisc,
Bound to do barking for the wife: bow—wow!
Why, Excellency, we and his Highness here
Would settle the matter as sufficiently
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Yeah,yeah,yeah,yeah,yeah
I love you baby since we were at school
I didnt show it I was a fool
You were burning I was cold as ice
And baby now I realize
Oh yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah (yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah (yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah (yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah (yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Wooo-oooh-oooh-oooh
Wooo-oooh-oooh-oooh
I gave you misery I gave you lies
I never hurt you, apologize
I love your lips I love your eyes
I love your breasts I love your thighs
Yeah yeah yeah yeah (yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah (yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah (yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah (yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Wooo-oooh-oooh-oooh
Wooo-oooh-oooh-oooh
Wooo-oooh-oooh-oooh
Wooo-oooh-oooh-oooh
Now all I can do is hope and pray
That youll forgive me before its too late
Theres only one thing I can say to you
You know I love you you know its true
Oh yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah (yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah (yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah (yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah (yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Wooo-oooh-oooh-oooh
Wooo-oooh-oooh-oooh
Wooo-oooh-oooh-oooh
Wooo-oooh-oooh-oooh
Yeah yeah yeah yeah (yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah (yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah (yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah (yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah (yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah (yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah (yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah (yeah yeah yeah yeah)
song performed by Pogues
Added by Lucian Velea
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Keep It Comin
Ill keep it, Ill keep it, Ill keep it, Ill keep it...
Ill keep it comin with the oooh, oooh
Ill keep it comin with the oooh, oooh
Ill keep it comin with the oooh, oooh
Aint it great to be alive
Aint it great to breathe
Aint it great to have hit songs hidden up my sleeves
I aint silly and my songs aint cute
I dont fly like a bird I just shine for loot...uh!
You can believe I aint close to done
You talk hits, youve never been close to one
You aint supposed to run, you can tell them I said that
Quick from the get, you know my hearts where my heads at
Ill keep it comin with the oooh, oooh
Ill keep it comin with the oooh, oooh
Ill keep it comin with the oooh, oooh
Ill keep it, Ill keep it, Ill keep it,..
Ill keep it comin with the oooh, oooh
Ill keep it comin with the oooh, oooh
Ill keep it comin with the oooh, oooh
Spent the last six months sittin out in the cold
You know I cried for help but I got put on hold
We dropped doublewide and you thought it would fold
It wasnt lookin good, but now your uncle went gold
Sold five hundred thou like plow
Pushed one million everybody went how?
Now Im two plus...sittin two plush
I dare your punk ass to ask me what?
I sold the farm and bought it right back
I was sittin in the red but now Im back in the black...uh!
Im in tact went from broke to plastic
All my hoopties turned into classics
Ive outlasted singin yes yes yall
Got em all kinda hopin Ill return their calls
And just when you thought that there was nothin to see
You heard me comin around the corner hummin..follow me
And here I am, Im live and direct
Im makin everybody wonder what Im gonna do next
I dont flex because thats not my style
Ill be singin what Im bringin baby all the while and i...
Ill keep it comin with the oooh, oooh
Ill keep it comin with the oooh, oooh
Ill keep it comin with the oooh, oooh
Ill keep it, Ill keep it, Ill keep it,..
Ill keep it comin with the oooh, oooh
Ill keep it comin with the oooh, oooh
Ill keep it comin with the oooh, oooh
song performed by Uncle Kracker
Added by Lucian Velea
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II. Half-Rome
What, you, Sir, come too? (Just the man I'd meet.)
Be ruled by me and have a care o' the crowd:
This way, while fresh folk go and get their gaze:
I'll tell you like a book and save your shins.
Fie, what a roaring day we've had! Whose fault?
Lorenzo in Lucina,—here's a church
To hold a crowd at need, accommodate
All comers from the Corso! If this crush
Make not its priests ashamed of what they show
For temple-room, don't prick them to draw purse
And down with bricks and mortar, eke us out
The beggarly transept with its bit of apse
Into a decent space for Christian ease,
Why, to-day's lucky pearl is cast to swine.
Listen and estimate the luck they've had!
(The right man, and I hold him.)
Sir, do you see,
They laid both bodies in the church, this morn
The first thing, on the chancel two steps up,
Behind the little marble balustrade;
Disposed them, Pietro the old murdered fool
To the right of the altar, and his wretched wife
On the other side. In trying to count stabs,
People supposed Violante showed the most,
Till somebody explained us that mistake;
His wounds had been dealt out indifferent where,
But she took all her stabbings in the face,
Since punished thus solely for honour's sake,
Honoris causâ, that's the proper term.
A delicacy there is, our gallants hold,
When you avenge your honour and only then,
That you disfigure the subject, fray the face,
Not just take life and end, in clownish guise.
It was Violante gave the first offence,
Got therefore the conspicuous punishment:
While Pietro, who helped merely, his mere death
Answered the purpose, so his face went free.
We fancied even, free as you please, that face
Showed itself still intolerably wronged;
Was wrinkled over with resentment yet,
Nor calm at all, as murdered faces use,
Once the worst ended: an indignant air
O' the head there was—'t is said the body turned
Round and away, rolled from Violante's side
Where they had laid it loving-husband-like.
If so, if corpses can be sensitive,
Why did not he roll right down altar-step,
Roll on through nave, roll fairly out of church,
Deprive Lorenzo of the spectacle,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi
Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 20
Thanne as I wente by the way, whan I was thus awaked,
Hevy chered I yede, and elenge in herte;
For I ne wiste wher to ete ne at what place,
And it neghed neigh the noon, and with Nede I mette,
That afrounted me foule and faitour me called.
'Coudestow noght excuse thee, as dide the kyng and othere -
That thow toke to thy bilyve, to clothes and to sustenaunce,
Was by techynge and by tellynge of Spiritus Temperancie,
And that thow nome na moore than nede thee taughte,
And nede ne hath no lawe, ne nevere shal falle in dette
For thre thynges he taketh his lif for to save? -
That is, mete whan men hym werneth, and he no moneye weldeth,
Ne wight noon wol ben his borugh, ne wed hath noon to legge;
And he ca[cch]e in that caas and come therto by sleighte,
He synneth noght, soothliche, that so wynneth his foode.
And though he come so to a clooth, and kan no bettre chevyssaunce,
Nede anoon righte nymeth hym under maynprise.
And if hym list for to lape, the lawe of kynde wolde
That he dronke at ech dych, er he [deide for thurst].
So Nede, at gret nede, may nymen as for his owene,
Withouten conseil of Conscience or Cardynale Vertues -
So that he sewe and save Spiritus Temperancie.
'For is no vertue bi fer to Spiritus Temperancie -
Neither Spiritus Iusticie ne Spiritus Fortitudinis.
For Spiritus Fortitudinis forfeteth ful ofte
He shal do moore than mesure many tyme and ofte,
And bete men over bittre, and som body to litel,
And greve men gretter than good feith it wolde.
'And Spiritus Iusticie shal juggen, wole he, nel he,
After the kynges counseil and the comune like.
And Spiritus Prudencie in many a point shal faille
Of that he weneth wolde falle if his wit ne weere.
Wenynge is no wysdom, ne wys ymaginacion
Homo proponit et Deus disponit -
[God] governeth alle goode vertues;
And Nede is next hym, for anoon he meketh
And as lowe as a lomb, for lakkyng that hym nedeth;
For nede maketh nede fele nedes lowe-herted.
Philosophres forsoke welthe for thei wolde be nedy,
And woneden wel elengely and wolde noght be riche.
'And God al his grete joye goostliche he lefte,
And cam and took mankynde and bicam nedy.'
So he was nedy, as seith the Book, in manye sondry places,
That he seide in his some on the selve roode,
''the Fox and fowel may fle to hole and crepe,
And the fissh hath fyn to flete with to reste,
Ther nede hath ynome me, that I moot nede abide
And suffre sorwes ful soure, that shal to joye torne.''
[...] Read more
poem by William Langland
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Get Your Kicks
You people love our country
And music in your soul
Come on and join our army
'Cause we're fightin' for rock 'n roll
Now that it's around
You know it's got to, got to stay
You've got to raise your flag high
There's a riot in the wings today (oo, oo yeah)
Come on and get your kicks, get your kicks
Come on everybody get your kicks
You've gotta get your kicks, get your kicks
Come on everybody get your kicks
We've been waitin' a long time
To get together with you
A message to the nation
Our time is long overdue
But now that we're around
You know we've got to, got to stay
You've got to raise your flag high
There's a riot in the wings today (ma, ma, ma yeah)
Come on and get get your kicks, get your kicks
Come on everybody get your kicks
You've gotta get your kicks, get your kicks
Come on everybody get your kicks
Seems like a long time
Must be a short time
Ain't gonna wait forever
Got myself a ticket going your direction
Ooo here I come
You've gotta get your kicks, get your kicks
Come on, everybody, get your kicks
You've gotta get your kicks, get your kicks
Come on, everybody, get your kicks
Keep on rock rock rockin' (woooo)
Rock rock rockin' (woooo)
Everybody get your kicks
Just keep on rock rock rockin' (woooo)
Rock rock rockin' (woooo)
Everybody get your kicks (come on)
Get your kicks, get your kicks
Come on everybody, get your kicks (yeah come on)
song performed by Quiet Riot
Added by Lucian Velea
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Your Disco Needs You
Your disco, your disco, your disco needs you!
Your disco, your disco, your disco needs you!
Your disco, your disco, your disco needs you!
Your disco, your disco, your disco needs you!
Desperately seeking someone willing to travel
Youre lost in conversation and useless at scrabble
Happiness will never last darkness comes to kick your ass
So lets dance through all our fears
War is over for a bit
The whole world should be moving do your part
Cure a lonely heart
Your disco, your disco, your disco needs you!
Your disco, your disco, your disco needs you!
Were sold on vanity but thats so see through (see through)
Take your body to the floor, your disco needs you
From soho to singapore, from the mainlands to the shore
So lets dance through all our fears
War is over for a bit, youre a slave to the rhythm do your part
Cure a lonely heart
Oooh oooh oooh oooh
Oooh oooh oooh oooh
Oooh oooh oooh oooh
Ah-aaaahhhhhhh
Oooh oooh oooh oooh
Oooh oooh oooh oooh
Oooh oooh oooh oooh
Ah-aaaahhhhhhh
Your disco, your disco, your disco needs you!
Your disco, your disco, your disco needs you!
Your disco, your disco, your disco needs you!
Your disco, your disco, your disco needs you!
Ah-aaaahhhhhhh
So lets dance through all our fears
War is over for a bit, the whole world should be moving do your part
Cure a lonely heart
Your disco, your disco, your disco needs you!
Your disco, your disco, your disco needs you!
Your disco, your disco, your disco needs you!
Your disco, your disco, your disco..
Needs... you!
song performed by Kylie Minogue
Added by Lucian Velea
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The House Of Dust: Complete
I.
The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.
And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.
'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.
We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .
Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.
Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.
Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.
II.
[...] Read more
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Added by Poetry Lover
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Second Book
TIMES followed one another. Came a morn
I stood upon the brink of twenty years,
And looked before and after, as I stood
Woman and artist,–either incomplete,
Both credulous of completion. There I held
The whole creation in my little cup,
And smiled with thirsty lips before I drank,
'Good health to you and me, sweet neighbour mine
And all these peoples.'
I was glad, that day;
The June was in me, with its multitudes
Of nightingales all singing in the dark,
And rosebuds reddening where the calyx split.
I felt so young, so strong, so sure of God!
So glad, I could not choose be very wise!
And, old at twenty, was inclined to pull
My childhood backward in a childish jest
To see the face of't once more, and farewell!
In which fantastic mood I bounded forth
At early morning,–would not wait so long
As even to snatch my bonnet by the strings,
But, brushing a green trail across the lawn
With my gown in the dew, took will and way
Among the acacias of the shrubberies,
To fly my fancies in the open air
And keep my birthday, till my aunt awoke
To stop good dreams. Meanwhile I murmured on,
As honeyed bees keep humming to themselves;
'The worthiest poets have remained uncrowned
Till death has bleached their foreheads to the bone,
And so with me it must be, unless I prove
Unworthy of the grand adversity,–
And certainly I would not fail so much.
What, therefore, if I crown myself to-day
In sport, not pride, to learn the feel of it,
Before my brows be numb as Dante's own
To all the tender pricking of such leaves?
Such leaves? what leaves?'
I pulled the branches down,
To choose from.
'Not the bay! I choose no bay;
The fates deny us if we are overbold:
Nor myrtle–which means chiefly love; and love
Is something awful which one dare not touch
So early o' mornings. This verbena strains
The point of passionate fragrance; and hard by,
This guelder rose, at far too slight a beck
Of the wind, will toss about her flower-apples.
Ah–there's my choice,–that ivy on the wall,
That headlong ivy! not a leaf will grow
[...] Read more
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Inconsolable Man
These days Im looking like a pitiful sight
Got a suicide smile on my face every night
I walk alone
Talk to myself
Shout angry words up to the sky
People stop and stare
Like Im out of my head
But what do they know
About the tears that I cry
And I cry yes I cry and thats why
Oooh oooh Im an inconsolable man
Oooh oooh since shes gone away thats what I am
Oooh oooh Im an inconsolable man
Nobody understands
An inconsolable man
I stop into a church and I waste another prayer
Well if theres someone listen to me
No ones talkin up there
So I walk down a street
Where lonely men sleep
With what money can buy
I tell myself that life aint over just yet
I can learn to forget if only I try
And I try and I try but its a lie
Oooh oooh Im an inconsolable man
Oooh oooh since shes gone away thats what I am
Oooh oooh Im an inconsolable man
Nobody understands
An inconsolable man
Nobody
Nobody
Nobody understands
And inconsolable man
Oooh oooh Im an inconsolable man
Oooh oooh since shes gone away thats what I am
Oooh oooh Im an inconsolable man
Nobody understands
An inconsolable man
song performed by Gino Vanelli
Added by Lucian Velea
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Robot Man
Live version
--------------------------------------
Grave communication
See me this is my life in the crazy robot man reservation
Do you feel the cold vibration?
cause Im everywhere, produce a crazy science fiction creation
And I say ooh, ooh, Im a robot man
And I say ooh, ooh, Im a loser
I say ooh, ooh, Im a robot man
I lost my mind, I lost my life, I lost my soul
Babe, its a magic station
Where we live, what we do with our magic robot man generation
I say babe, its not a vision
Its reality, this is a robot scene what we live in
And I say ooh, ooh, Im a robot man
And I say ooh, ooh, Im a loser
I say ooh, ooh, Im a robot man
I lost my mind, I lost my life, I lost my soul
And I say ooh, ooh, Im a robot man
And I say ooh, ooh, Im a loser
I say ooh, ooh, Im a robot man
And I say ooh, ooh, Im a loser
And I say ooh, ooh, Im a robot man
And I say ooh, ooh, Im a loser
And I say ooh, ooh, Im a robot man...
Another version
---------------------------------------
Music :rudolf schenker
Lyrics:klaus meine
Crave communication
See me this is my life in the crazy robot man reservation
Do you feel him, the cold vibration
Comes from everywhere, produce a crazy science fiction creation
And I say oooh, oooh
Im a robot man
And I say oooh, oooh
Im a loser
I say oooh, oooh
Im a robot man
Well, thats my mind
Thats my life
Thats my soul
Babe, its a magic station
Where we live what we do with our magic from my generation
I say babe, its not a vision
Its reality, this is a robot scene what we live in.
And I say oooh, oooh
Im a robot man
And I say oooh, oooh
Im a loser
[...] Read more
song performed by Scorpions
Added by Lucian Velea
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Used To Be Lucky
Now mine is a sunshine kind of a valentine
But sometimes I still dont feel even worth a dime
But it used to be different, before Id been where Ive been
Oooh ooh ooh oooh
Now youve got a heart so you know how it feels
When you cant move at the top of a ferris wheel
But I used to keep trying, but it always felt like dying
Oooh ooh ooh oooh
So sad
Everythings gone bad
In the dreams Ive had
They all laugh at what I have
Oh, no
Tell me that it aint true
When I awake Im still me
Man, I wish I could once be you
Now I used to feel lucky, till I spent some time with me
Oooh ooh ooh oooh
Now if losing is amusing, man get a load of me
You see me fallin in love with a guillotine
But it used to be funny, to think you would think of me
Oooh ooh ooh oooh
Now I wish I could just take all my things and leave
But Ive fallen down in the wheels of this machine
But it used to be somethin, to be nowhere with nothin
Oooh ooh ooh oooh
So sad
Everythings gone bad
In the dreams Ive had
They all laugh at what I have
Oh, no
Tell me that it aint true
When I awake Im still me
Man, I wish I could once be you
Now I used to feel lucky, till I spent some time with me
Oooh ooh ooh oooh
Now if losing is amusing, man get a load of me
You see me fallin in love with a guillotine
But it used to be funny, to think you would think of me
Oooh ooh ooh oooh
Now I wish I could just take all my things and leave
But Ive fallen down in the wheels of this machine
But it used to be somethin, to be nowhere with nothin
Oooh ooh ooh oooh
So sad
Everythings goin bad
In the dreams Ive had
They all laugh at what I have
Oh, no
Tell me that it aint true
[...] Read more
song performed by Wallflowers
Added by Lucian Velea
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