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The Poets Are Coming Out To Play Today

I came home this morning
after saying goodbye to a ghost.
I wrote a little poem about
and posted it. Then up popped Alison Cassidy
dreaming of summer.
In England, we are all doing that.
We have to walk in our wellies,
hoping not to get our feet wet.
Andy Wilkinson posted
another romantic ditty,
then he comes along,
and calls me sentimental
because I wanted to say goodbye to a ghost
where I used to work.
Yes, I think the poets
have come out to play today.

poem by David Harris
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Allegany Camp

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[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Ditty Wah Ditty

(arthur blake)
Theres a great big mistery
And it sure is worrying me
Its a ditty wah ditty
Mister ditty wah ditty
I wished somebody would tell me what ditty wah ditty means
I went out and walked around
Somebody yelled, now whos in town ?
Mister ditty wah ditty
Mister ditty wah ditty
I wished somebody would tell me what ditty wah ditty means
Some little girl bout four-feet-four
Said, come on, papa, and gimme some mo
Your ditty wah ditty
Your ditty wah ditty
I wished somebody would tell me what ditty wah ditty means
I went to church, put my hat on the seat
A lady sat on it and said, daddy you sho is sweet
Mister ditty wah ditty
Mister ditty wah ditty
I wished somebody would tell me what ditty wah ditty means
I said, sister, Ill soon be gone
Just give me that thing that youre sitting on
My ditty wah ditty
Mister ditty wah ditty
I wished somebody would tell me what ditty wah ditty means
Then I got put outta the church
cause I talked about ditty wah ditty too much
Mister ditty wah ditty
Mister ditty wah ditty
I wished somebody would tell me what ditty wah ditty means

song performed by Ry Cooder
Added by Lucian Velea
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Veterinary Camps

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[...] Read more

poem by Caasder Fronds
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Twin State

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[...] Read more

poem by Caasder Fronds
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University Of Central Florida Volleyball

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poem by Caasder Fronds
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Using Boot Camp

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[...] Read more

poem by Caasder Fronds
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This Friendly World

R.E.M., Andy, Tony---This Friendly World
ANDY: Hi, Michael.
MICHAEL: Hi, Andy. Thanks for joining us. Do you
wanna ... you wanna sing a song together?
ANDY: Sure! Is it a sweet song?
MICHAEL: Yeah, it's real sweet.
ANDY: O.K.!
[They laugh.]
MICHAEL:
In this friendly, friendly world
With each day so full of joy
Why should any heart be lonely?
ANDY: My turn!
In this friendly, friendly world
With each night so full of dreams
Why should any heart be afraid?
The world is ...
MICHAEL ANDY:
... such a wonderful place
To wander through
When you've got someone you love
MICHAEL:
To wander along with you
ANDY: O.K., now take every second word! With ...
MICHAEL: ... the ...
ANDY: ... sky ...
MICHAEL: ... so ...
ANDY: ... full ...
MICHAEL: ... of ...
ANDY: ... stars
MICHAEL: And ...
ANDY: ... the ...
MICHAEL: ... river ...
ANDY: ... so ...
MICHAEL: ... full ...
ANDY: ... of ...
MICHAEL: ... song, Every ...
ANDY: ... heart ...
MICHAEL: ... should ...
ANDY: ... be ...
MICHAEL: ... so ...
ANDY: ... thankful
It's a friendly world! Don't you think so, Michael?
MICHAEL: Yup!
TONY: Oh yeah?! What's so friendly about it?!!
This is Tony Clifton, and, and I demand a part in
this song! I'm just as big a part of the movie as
these guys are! And, and I will not sit back while
some sought-after Colonel Kurtz wanna-be, uh, uh
has his day in the sun! I think he's enough

[...] Read more

song performed by REM
Added by Lucian Velea
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Healthy Back Bag

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[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Lubie

I said I, I left my wife and child (Lubie come back home),
I said i, i left my wife and child (lubie come back home),
And lord my conscience is about to drive me wild (Lubie come back home),
And lord my conscience is about to drive me wild (lubie come back home),
A little voice inside my head goes on and on (Lubie come back home),
A little voice inside my head goes on and on (lubie come back home),
Said Lubie Lubie you better go back home.
Said lubie lubie you better go back home.
I said I, I thought I'd make it by myself (Lubie come back home),
I said i, i thought i'd make it by myself (lubie come back home),
And now my baby she got my heart dropped on a shelf (Lubie come back home),
And now my baby she got my heart dropped on a shelf (lubie come back home),
I said I, I still you're my baby now (Lubie come back home),
I said i, i still you're my baby now (lubie come back home),
Said Lubie Lubie you better go back home.
Said lubie lubie you better go back home.
You better go on home (Lubie come back home),
You better go on home (lubie come back home),
I said yeah Lubie go on home (Lubie come back home),
I said yeah lubie go on home (lubie come back home),
I said you better go home girl,
I said you better go home girl,
Ah yeah you go home.
Ah yeah you go home.
Go on home home home home home home,
Go on home home home home home home,
Yeah Lubie go on home home home home home home,
Yeah lubie go on home home home home home home,
Yeah Lubie go on home home home home home home,
Yeah lubie go on home home home home home home,
Little bit soft, everybody go soft,
Little bit soft, everybody go soft,
Go on home to see my baby,
Go on home to see my baby,
Yeah you know that she loves you daddy like crazy.
Yeah you know that she loves you daddy like crazy.
I say my misses I'm gonna stay what I'm gonna do,
I say my misses i'm gonna stay what i'm gonna do,
Gonna buy you a monkey and a new dog too yeah,
Gonna buy you a monkey and a new dog too yeah,
The guys have got yeah to get 'em to see my baby,
The guys have got yeah to get 'em to see my baby,
A little bit louder, everybody go on go louder, yeah yeah yeah yeah.
A little bit louder, everybody go on go louder, yeah yeah yeah yeah.
Now Lubie where you been,
Now lubie where you been,
I said I, I left my wife and child (Lubie come back home),
I said i, i left my wife and child (lubie come back home),
And lord my conscience is about to drive me wild (Lubie come back home),
And lord my conscience is about to drive me wild (lubie come back home),

[...] Read more

song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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The White Cliffs

I
I have loved England, dearly and deeply,
Since that first morning, shining and pure,
The white cliffs of Dover I saw rising steeply
Out of the sea that once made her secure.
I had no thought then of husband or lover,
I was a traveller, the guest of a week;
Yet when they pointed 'the white cliffs of Dover',
Startled I found there were tears on my cheek.
I have loved England, and still as a stranger,
Here is my home and I still am alone.
Now in her hour of trial and danger,
Only the English are really her own.

II
It happened the first evening I was there.
Some one was giving a ball in Belgrave Square.
At Belgrave Square, that most Victorian spot.—
Lives there a novel-reader who has not
At some time wept for those delightful girls,
Daughters of dukes, prime ministers and earls,
In bonnets, berthas, bustles, buttoned basques,
Hiding behind their pure Victorian masks
Hearts just as hot - hotter perhaps than those
Whose owners now abandon hats and hose?
Who has not wept for Lady Joan or Jill
Loving against her noble parent's will
A handsome guardsman, who to her alarm
Feels her hand kissed behind a potted palm
At Lady Ivry's ball the dreadful night
Before his regiment goes off to fight;
And see him the next morning, in the park,
Complete in busbee, marching to embark.
I had read freely, even as a child,
Not only Meredith and Oscar Wilde
But many novels of an earlier day—
Ravenshoe, Can You Forgive Her?, Vivien Grey,
Ouida, The Duchess, Broughton's Red As a Rose,
Guy Livingstone, Whyte-Melville— Heaven knows
What others. Now, I thought, I was to see
Their habitat, though like the Miller of Dee,
I cared for none and no one cared for me.

III
A light blue carpet on the stair
And tall young footmen everywhere,
Tall young men with English faces
Standing rigidly in their places,
Rows and rows of them stiff and staid

[...] Read more

poem by Alice Duer Miller
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Catholic Contradictions

This Poem will speak to Peter,
Of the priest and the folly,
This poem doubts not the sincerity of true worshipers,
It will speak to the cult, the club, their Peter, the images of idolatry
This poem will address the indoctrination, the assumptions and contradictions,
This poem will expose and explode,
This poem will speak of the council of Valencia and the “forbidden book”
This poem will speak of the mass “hoc est enim corpus meum'
And the continuous re-enactment of the Death of Jesus
This poem will smite the conscience, rend the hearts, and heal the willing
This poem will speak of purgatory
Of priesthood
Of indulgences
Of penance
Of confessions and the “confessors”
Of papal decrees
And of the mortal and venial sins,
This Poem, this poem will speak of the “Virgin Mary” and the harlot,
This poem will confirm the marriage of Christ’s Peter
Of the Roman Universal contradictions and papal infallibility
This poem will speak of the assurance of salvation
And the curse of the Council of Trent
This poem will speak of the “Arian heresy”
Of “Cyprian and the lapsed”
Of the works of “Athanasius Contra Mundum”
Of Athanasius to the Bishop of Egypt
This poem will speak of the incarnation of the divine word
Orations against the Arians and against Apollinaris
This poem will speak of John Chrysostom, (golden mouth)
This poem will speak of his ethical applications and the trouble with the emperor’s wife
This poem will speak of Augustine and his forgotten works,
“In the spirit and the letter”, “Confession”, the “city of God “
The battle against the “Donatist” “Manichean” The “Arians” the “Pelagians”
This poem will speak of the Theology of “Anselm”
Of “Thomas Aquinas” and the Sum of Theology
This poem will talk of the “council of Nicea”
This poem will speak of Constantine and his cross of battle
The grandeur of “St Peter’s Basilica” the glory of man void of God’s presence
This poem will speak of the “Patriarchal City” and the protagonist
This poem will be persecuted, burnt, torn and ridiculed
This poem will never be read by Catholics,
It will not be verified to see the deception of Rome and the Pope,
This poem can read your mind, how you think Pope can never do wrong
This poem sees your bent determination to resist Truth
This poem will talk of Martin Luther, Ulrich Zwingli and John Calvin
This poem will be rejected by America, Britain, France, Russian, and Africa
This poem must be hated, by worshiper of Dead Mary and his statue
This poem will be scorned and attacked
This poem will bring shame to the writer; he will be sick or insane in the mind of the readers
This poem will not be read in Jerusalem, Rome, Alexandria, and Antioch,

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poem by Macaulay Akinbami
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Sola Christos, Sola Scriptura, Sola Gracious, Sola Fide' and the Priesthood

This Poem will speak to Peter,
Of the priest and the folly,
This poem doubts not the sincerity of true worshipers,
It will speak to the cult, the club, their Peter, the images of idolatry
This poem will address the indoctrination, the assumptions and contradictions,
This poem will expose and explode,
This poem will speak of the council of Valencia and the “forbidden book”
This poem will speak of the mass “hoc est enim corpus meum'
And the continuous re-enactment of the Death of Jesus
This poem will smite the conscience, rend the hearts, and heal the willing
This poem will speak of purgatory
Of priesthood
Of indulgences
Of penance
Of confessions and the “confessors”
Of papal decrees
And of the mortal and venial sins,
This Poem, this poem will speak of the “Virgin Mary” and the harlot,
This poem will confirm the marriage of Christ’s Peter
Of the Roman Universal contradictions and papal infallibility
This poem will speak of the assurance of salvation
And the curse of the Council of Trent
This poem will speak of the “Arian heresy”
Of “Cyprian and the lapsed”
Of the works of “Athanasius Contra Mundum”
Of Athanasius to the Bishop of Egypt
This poem will speak of the incarnation of the divine word
Orations against the Arians and against Apollinaris
This poem will speak of John Chrysostom, (golden mouth)
This poem will speak of his ethical applications and the trouble with the emperor’s wife
This poem will speak of Augustine and his forgotten works,
“In the spirit and the letter”, “Confession”, the “city of God “
The battle against the “Donatist” “Manichean” The “Arians” the “Pelagians”
This poem will speak of the Theology of “Anselm”
Of “Thomas Aquinas” and the Sum of Theology
This poem will talk of the “council of Nicea”
This poem will speak of Constantine and his cross of battle
The grandeur of “St Peter’s Basilica” the glory of man void of God’s presence
This poem will speak of the “Patriarchal City” and the protagonist
This poem will be persecuted, burnt, torn and ridiculed
This poem will never be read by Catholics,
It will not be verified to see the deception of Rome and the Pope,
This poem can read your mind, how you think Pope can never do wrong
This poem sees your bent determination to resist Truth
This poem will talk of Martin Luther, Ulrich Zwingli and John Calvin
This poem will be rejected by America, Britain, France, Russian, and Africa
This poem must be hated, by worshiper of Dead Mary and his statue
This poem will be scorned and attacked
This poem will bring shame to the writer; he will be sick or insane in the mind of the readers
This poem will not be read in Jerusalem, Rome, Alexandria, and Antioch,

[...] Read more

poem by Macaulay Akinbami
Added by Poetry Lover
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You Say Keep It Gangsta (feat. Butch Cassidy And Sharissa)

[B] Wyclef, Butch Cassidy, Sharissa
[W] What up
[S] Unnnnnh!
[B] From the West Indies to the West Coast
[W] Callabo
[B] You say keep it gangsta
[Chorus: Wyclef] (Butch Cassidy)
But when the beef come, you're the first to run (YOU SAY KEEP IT GANGSTA)
Yo, that ain't your gun, it belongs to... (YOU SAY KEEP IT GANGSTA)
You roll with a hundred, but when the beef come don't nobody want it
(Gangster, la la la la, la la la la)
[Wyclef] (Butch Cassidy)
I want to dedicate this chant to my people locked down livin life in the yard
(KEEP IT GANGSTA)
Keep a shank boofed up in their tape just in case a thug wanna play hard
(KEEP IT GANGSTA)
All this ice-grillin talk bout you King of New York, now you wanna call a guard
(THAT AIN'T GANGSTA)
But it's too late when the guard show up cause your body's going straight to the morgue
(KEEP IT GANGSTA)
[Chorus: Wyclef] (Butch Cassidy)
But when the beef come, you're the first to run (YOU SAY KEEP IT GANGSTA)
Yo, that ain't your gun, it belongs to... (YOU SAY KEEP IT GANGSTA)
You roll with a hundred, but when the beef come don't nobody want it
(...GANGSTER)
[Butch Cassidy] (Wyclef & Sharissa)
I wanna dedicate this jam to the ladies holdin spots when they fellows lock down
(KEEP IT GANGSTA)
Keep a glock in they pocket blowin shots till they pray I'm in town
(KEEP IT GANGSTA)
And to the snitch that ratted on rich the streets got you 16 rounds
(THAT AIN'T GANGSTA)
But theres only one place for a gully rat, six feet under the ground
(YOU SAY KEEP IT GANGSTA)
I'm gon keep it gangsta
(YOU SAY KEEP IT GANGSTA)
La la la la, la la la la
(YOU SAY KEEP IT GANGSTA)
[Chorus: Wyclef] (Butch Cassidy)
You roll with a hundred, but when the beef come don't nobody want it
(...GANGSTER)
[Big Jack] (Butch Cassidy)
Pick it up, pick it up, pick it up
Yo, stop with the posin
Y'all ain't really holdin
I'm about to open, a chapter of the Omen
Casket, closin, bodies, frozen
I've, been chosen, y'all forsaken
Ante up, so the chains get taken
Flash backs of the rock season in the making

[...] Read more

song performed by Wyclef Jean
Added by Lucian Velea
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

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

[...] Read more

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

Last night
we showed how much we cared
but sadness filled the air
how it made us cry
as we waved goodbye
then you left me standing there

Last night
I came home on my own
and watched a movie show
and the saddest part
really broke my heart
as it made me miss you so

I get so sentimental
can't control the beat of my heart
I get so sentimental
sentimental when we're apart

Last night
I tried to let you know
how it hurts to see you go
and how I want you near
every time I hear
our love song on the radio

I get so sentimental
can't control the beat of my heart
I get so sentimental
sentimental when we're apart

Can't control the beat of my heart
I get so sentimental
sentimental when we're apart

How you made me cry
when we waved good bye
as it made me miss you so

I get so sentimental
can't control the beat of my heart
I get so sentimental
sentimental when we're apart

I get so sentimental

I get so sentimental
sentimental when we're apart

I get so sentimental

[...] Read more

song performed by Donna Summer from Another Place And Time
Added by Lucian Velea
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This Is Not A Confessionam Poem

This is not a confessional poem
I confess that I have written this
Not a romantic poem
Under the watch of the archangel of Blake’s vision
A l=a=n=g=u=a=g=e= p=o=e=m=
A loaf Of poem a gallon Of words a pint Of letters
A so-so go for broke poem
So so son and so said
An acrostic poem
None near Aim to be called
Mindfully toward the Eternity of the thing
An epitaph poem
He lays David E. Patton
Never one to believe in heaven
So when he dies he did spy

A free verse poem
A sonnet poem
A know it all poem for the masses
This is not a minute poem
A didactic poem
A tongue poem
A villanelle poem
A sestina poem
An epic poem
A quinzaine poem
A rondelet poem
This is not a rondel poem
A cascade poem
A trijan refrain poem
A tanka poem
A taridet poem
A quatrain poem
If I lie this is not a list poem
To pin upon the sky
Set before the poet’s eye
I confess that I have written this
But this is not written to deceived anything but what is desired by the greediness of the eyes
This is not the growth of breath focused on the words with their mindful meaning stalled by the stack of sounds held in the syllables
This is not a sijo poem from the land of the morning calm
I confess that I know not what this is but all that it is not of what it would be forgot in the mispronounced want of the bony wants of the skin bag of my self
This is not the not of a poem trying to be born from the keyboard’s click and the memory of my hands
This is not an every man poem to understand it dose not caters to the common man
This is not a poem about Gods caught up in my mentioning of them they have taken their holy toys and gone home till the kingdom will come only the prelists priests are left to protest their secret order for getting into a heaven where nothing changes nothing like the rot of earth that feed upon the rotting of the living
This is not a this is not poem all that I have said can be washed away with the rain of your brain this poem can not save can not heal can not trill you into action
This is not a solitary crowed poem a cut-up poem feeding off itself
I have written it but it will not tell me what kind of poem it seem to be
This is not a poem to make you rough or pure or proud or increate your intellect to beguile the world with its new found wisdom
This is not a poem to set you free from the common drudgery of your day to day life it can not fend or feed you with the not of its substance can not set you to dance naked beneath the full moon can not fill you up with the pleasure of the pen
This is not a poem that seeks to befriend it has no mouth to consume you no hands to caress you no tongue to lick the words from your tears

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poem by David E. Patton
Added by Poetry Lover
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Back Home

Yeah yeah yeah
Well Im going back this summer to ohio
Im gonna seek out all my friends Ive always known
Im goin back to that farm that I remember
Well Im goin to spend this summer back home
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home (back home)
Im gonna get up every morning before the roosters
Ill run downstairs fix my breakfast all alone
Ill milk those cows feed the chickens and the horses
Well Im gonna spend this summer back home
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home (back home)
Ill eat everything that ma puts on the table
When I get back you wont believe how Ive grown
Ill hit the sack early everynight thinkin bout tomorrow whoa oh
Well Im gonna spend this summer back home
Back home, back home, back home
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Thats what Im gonna do thats where Im gonna be, thats this summer
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Gonna get up, gonna get up, gonna get up every morning
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Hey woo feels okay back home
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home

song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ghost Train

Here they come to steal my soul
(Ghost train)
Wait it out until I know
(Ghost train)
Trying not to feel I give it
(Ghost train)
Moving up until I go go
(Ghost train)
She was not to hear about me leaving
(Ghost train)
Trying to be near my heart
(Ghost train)
Trying not to feel like bleeding
(Ghost train)
Moving up until I'm taught to your side
(Ghost train)
Yeah yeah yeah
(Ghost train)
yeah yeah yeah
(Ghost train)
yeah yeah yeah
(Ghost train)
Got suicide for my baby
(Ghost train)
Living up until I wanted
(Ghost train)
Seeing like I'm out of bed, yeah
(Ghost train)
Moving up and taught I'm a weapon
(Ghost train)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
(Ghost train)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
(Ghost train)
I see myself pretend how to get there
(Ghost train)
Dripping down, I'm poisoned on the street
(Ghost train)
Come on come on come on!
(Ghost train)
Come on come on come on!
(Ghost train)
Come on come on come on!
(Ghost train)
Come on come on come on!
(Ghost train)
Come on come on come on!
(Ghost train)
Come on come on come on!
(Ghost train)

[...] Read more

song performed by Gorillaz
Added by Lucian Velea
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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