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The Quest

High, hollowed in green
above the rocks of reason
lies the crater lake
whose ice the dreamer breaks
to find a summer season.

'He will plunge like a plummet down
far into hungry tides'
they cry, but as the sea
climbs to a lunar magnet
so the dreamer pursues
the lake where love resides.

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A Carp in the Donut-Shaped Lake

(To Akira Kurosawa)

Swimming in the donut-shaped lake,
The carp goes round and round,
While not in the ocean where waves break,
It is in way more it could want for surround,

While it is not such a make,
None can say it is no found,
For it emule with perfection the sake
Of an environment meant to be confound
For something bigger than lake,
As for here carp goes round and round,

And while at carp's mistake,
Carp finds itself around,
To what comes to partake
Ocean's characteristic abound,

And carp seems to forsake,
The reason to whom it is bound,
And takes for real the fake,
That lake is the ocean's ground,

For carp suffers the redound,
Of the donut-shape of the lake,
It learned to swim round and round,
In this ocean's astounding remake,

With no walls to put brake,
It reminds of ocean profound,
The donut-shaped lake,
Where carp goes round and round,

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Times

The Time hath been, a boyish, blushing Time,
When Modesty was scarcely held a crime,
When the most Wicked had some touch of grace,
And trembled to meet Virtue face to face,
When Those, who, in the cause of Sin grown grey,
Had serv'd her without grudging day by day,
Were yet so weak an awkward shame to feel,
And strove that glorious service to conceal;
We, better bred, and than our Sires more wise,
Such paltry narrowness of soul despise,
To Virtue ev'ry mean pretence disclaim,
Lay bare our crimes, and glory in our shame.
. . . .
ITALIA, nurse of ev'ry softer art,
Who, feigning to refine, unmans the heart,
Who lays the realms of Sense and Virtue waste,
Who marrs whilst she pretends to mend our taste,
ITALIA, to compleat and crown our shame,
Sends us a Fiend, and LEGION is his name.
The Farce of greatness, without being great,
Pride without Pow'r, Titles without Estate,
Souls without vigour, Bodies without force,
Hate without case, Revenge without remorse,
Dark, mean Revenge, Murder without defence,
Jealousy without Love, Sound without Sense,
Mirth without Humour, without Wit Grimace,
Faith without Reason, Gospel without Grace,
Zeal without Knowledge, without Nature Art,
Men without Manhood, Women without Heart,
Half-Men, who, dry and pithless, are debarr'd
From Man's best joys — no sooner made than marr'd —
Half-Men, whom many a rich and noble Dame,
To serve her lust, and yet secure her fame,
Keeps on high diet, as We Capons feed,
To glut our appetites at last decreed;
Women, who dance, in postures so obscene,
They might awaken shame in ARETINE,
Who, when, retir'd from the day's piercing light,
They celebrate the mysteries of night,
Might make the Muses, in a corner plac'd
To view their monstrous lusts, deem SAPPHO chaste;
These, and a thousand follies rank as these,
A thousand faults, ten thousand Fools, who please
Our pall'd and sickly taste, ten thousand knaves,
Who serve our foes as spies, and us as slaves,
Who by degrees, and unperceiv'd, prepare
Our necks for chains which they already wear,
Madly we entertain, at the expence
Of Fame, of Virtue, Taste, and Common-Sense.
Nor stop we here — the soft luxurious EAST,
Where Man, his soul degraded, from the Beast
In nothing diff'rent but in shape we view,
They walk on four legs, and he walks on two,
Attracts our eye, and flowing from that source,
Sins of the blackest character, Sins worse
Than all her plagues, which truly to unfold
Would make the best blood in my veins run cold,
And strike all Manhood dead, which but to name
Would call up in my cheeks the marks of shame,
Sins, if such Sins can be, which shut out grace,
Which for the guilty leave no hope, no place
E'en in God's mercy, Sins 'gainst Nature's plan
Possess the land at large, and Man for Man
Burn in those fires, which Hell alone could raise
To make him more than damn'd, which, in the days
Of punishment, when guilt becomes her prey,
With all her tortures she can scarce repay.

Be Grace shut out, be Mercy deaf, let God
With tenfold terrors arms that dreadful nod
Which speaks them lost, and sentenc'd to despair;
Distending wide her jaws, let Hell prepare
For Those who thus offend amongst Mankind,
A fire more fierce, and tortures more refin'd;
On Earth, which groans beneath their monstrous weight,
On Earth, alas! They meet a diff'rent fate,
And whilst the laws, false grace, false mercy shewn,
Are taught to wear a softness not their own,
Men, whom the Beasts would spurn, should they appear
Amongst the honest herd, find refuge here.

No longer by vain fear, or shame controul'd
From long, too long security grown bold,
Mocking rebuke, they brave it in our streets,
And LUMLEY e'en at noon his mistress meets.
So public in their crimes, so daring grown,
They almost take a pride to have them known,
And each unnat'ral Villain scarce endures
To make a secret of his vile amours.
Go where We will, at ev'ry time and place,
SODOM confronts, and stares us in the face;
They ply in public at our very doors,
And take the bread from much more honest Whores.
Those who are mean high Paramours secure,
And the rich guilty screen the guilty poor;
The Sin too proud to feel from Reason awe,
And Those, who practise it, too great for Law.

Woman, the pride and happiness of Man,
Without whose soft endearments Nature's plan
Had been a blank, and Life not worth a thought;
Woman, by all the Loves and Graces taught,
With softest arts, and sure, tho' hidden skill,
To humanize, and mould us to her will;
Woman, with more than common grace form'd here,
With the persuasive language of a tear
To melt the rugged temper of our Isle,
Or win us to her purpose with a smile;
Woman, by fate the quickest spur decreed,
The fairest, best reward of ev'ry deed
Which bears the stamp of hoinour, at whose name
Our antient Heroes caught a quicker flame,
And dar'd beyond belief, whilst o'er the plain,
Spurning the carcases of Princes slain,
Confusion proudly strode, whilst Horror blew
The fatal trump, and Death stalk'd full in view;
Woman is out of date, a thing thrown by
As having lost its use; No more the Eye
With female beauty caught, in wild amaze,
Gazes entranc'd, and could for ever gaze;
No more the Heart, that seat where Love resides,
Each breath drawn quick and short, in fuller tides
Life posting thro' the veins, each pulse on fire,
And the whole body tingling with desire,
Pants for those charms, which Virtue might engage
To break his vow, and thaw the frost of age,
Bidding each trembling nerve, each muscle strain,
And giving pleasure which is almost pain.
Women are kept for nothing but the breed;
For pleasure we must have a GANYMEDE,
A fine, fresh HYLAS, a delicious boy,
To serve our purposes of beastly joy.

Fairest of Nymphs, where ev're Nymph is fair,
Whom Nature form'd with more than common care,
With more than common care whom Art improv'd,
And both declar'd most worthy to be lov'd,
—— neglected wanders, whilst a croud
Pursue, and consecrate the steps ——
She, hapless maid, born in a wretched hour,
Wastes life's gay prime in vain, like some fair flow'r,
Sweet in its scent, and lively in its hue,
Which withers on the stalk from whence it grew,
And dies uncropp'd, whilst He, admir'd, caress'd,
Belov'd, and ev'ry where a welcome guest,
With Brutes of rank and fortune plays the Whore,
For this unnat'ral lust a Common Sew'r.

Dine with APICIUS — at his sumptuous board
Find all, the world of dainties can afford —
And yet (so much distemper'd Spirits pall
The sickly appetite) amidst them all
APICIUS finds no joy, but, whilst he carves
For ev'ry guest, the Landlord sits and starves.
. . . .
Whence flows this Sorrow then? behind his chair
Dids't Thou not see, deck'd with a Solitaire
Which on his bare breast glitt'ring play'd and grac'd
With nicest ornaments, a Stripling plac'd,
A Smooth, Smug, Stripling, in life's fairest prime?
Did'st Thou not mind too, how from time to time,
The monstrous Letcher, tempted to despise
All other dainties, thither turn'd his eyes?
How he seem'd inly to reproach us all,
Who strove his fix'd attention to recall,
And how he wish'd, e'en at the Time of grace,
Like JANUS, to have had a double face?
His cause of grief behold in that fair Boy;
APICIUS dotes, and CORYDON is coy.

Vain and unthinking Stripling! When the glass
Meets thy too curious eye, and, as You pass,
Flatt'ring, presents in smiles thy image there,
Why dost Thou bless the Gods, who made Thee fair?
Blame their lage bounties, and with reason blame;
Curse, curse thy beauty, for it leads to shame.
When thy hot Lord, to work Thee to his end,
Bids show'rs of gold into thy breast descend,
Suspect his gifts, nor the vile giver trust;
They're baits for Virtue, and smell strong of lust.
On those gay, gaudy trappings, which adorn
The temple of thy body, look with scorn,
View them with horror, they pollution mean
And deepest ruin; Thou hast often seen,
From 'mongst the herd, the fairest and the best
Carefully singled out, and richly drest,
With grandeur mock'd, for scarifice decreed,
Only in greater pomp at last to bleed.
Be warn'd in time, the threat'ned danger shun,
To stay a moment is to be undone.
What tho', temptation proof, thy Virtue shine,
Nor bribes can move, nor arts can undermine,
All other methods failing, one resource
Is still behind, and Thou must yield to force.
Paint to thyself the horrors of a rape,
Most strongly paint, and, while Thou can'st escape,
Mind not his promises — They're made in sport —
Made to be broke — Was He not bred at Court?
Trust not to Honour, He's a Man of birth;
Attend not to his oaths — They're made on earth,
Not register'd in Heav'n — He mocks at grace,
And in his Creed God never found a place —
Look not for Conscience — for He knows her not,
So long a Stranger, she is quite forgot —
Nor think thyself in Law secure and firm —
Thy Master is a Lord, and Thou a worm,
A poor mean Reptile, never meant to think,
Who, being well supplied with meat and drink,
And suffer'd just to crawl from place to place,
Must serve his lusts, and think he does Thee grace.

Fly then, whilst yet 'tis in thy pow'r to fly,
But whither can'st Thou go? on whom rely
For wish'd protection? Virtue's sure to meet
An armed host of foes, in ev'ry street.
What boots it, of APICIUS fearful grown,
Headlong to fly into the arms of STONE,
Or why take refuge in the house of pray'd,
If sure to meet with an APICIUS there?
Trust not Old Age, which will thy faith betray;
Saint SOCRATES is still a Goat, tho' grey;
Trust not greet Youth; FLORIO will scarce go down,
And, at eighteen, hath surfeited the Town;
Trust not to Rakes — alas! 'tis all pretence —
They take up raking only as a sence
'Gainst Common Fame — place H—— in thy view;
He keeps one Whore as BARROWBY kept two;
Trust not to Marriage — T—— took a Wife,
Who caste as Dian might have pass'd her life,
Had she not, far more prudent in her aim,
(To propagate the honours of his name,
And save expiring titles) taken care
Without his knowledge to provide an heir;
Trust not to Marriage, in Mankind unread;
S[ackville]'s a married man, and S[troud's] new wed.

Would'st Thou be safe? Society forswear,
Fly to the desart, and seek shelter there,
Herd with the Brutes — they follow Nature's plan —
There's not one Brute so dangerous as Man
In Afric's wilds — 'mongst them that refuge find,
Which Lust denies thee here among Mankind;
Renounce thy name, thy nature, and no more
Pique thy vain Pride on Manhood, on all four
Walk, as Yous ee thouse honest creatures do,
And quite forget that once You walk'd on Two.

But, if the thoughts of Solitude alarm,
And social life hath one remaining charm,
If still Thou art to Jeopardy decreed
Amongst the monsters of AUGUSTA's breed,
Lay by thy sex, thy safety to procure;
Put off the Man, from Men to live secure;
Go forth a Woman to the public view,
And with their garb assume their manners too.
Had the light-footed GREEK of Chiron's school
Been wise enough to keep this single rule,
The Maudlin Hero, like a puling boy
Robb'd of his play-thing, on the plains of Troy
Had never blubber'd at Patroclus' tomb,
And plac'd his Minion in his Mistress' room.
Be not in this than Catamites more nice,
Do that for Virtue, which they do for Vice.
Thus shalt Thou pass untained life's gay bloom,
Thus stand uncourted in the drawing-room,
At midnight thus, untempted, walk the street,
And run no danger but of being beat.

Where is the Mother, whose officious zeal
Discreetly judging what her Daughters feel
By what she felt hefself in days of yore,
Against that Letcher Man makes fast the door,
Who not permits, e'en for the sake of pray'r,
A Priest, uncastrated, to enter there,
Nor (could her wishes, and her care prevail)
Would suffer in the house a fly that's male?
Let her discharge her cares, throw wide her doors,
Her daughters cannot, if They would, be Whores,
Nor can a man be found, as Times now go,
Who thinks it worth his while to make them so.

Tho' they more fresh, more lively than the Morn,
And brighter than the noon-day Sun, adorn
The works of Nature, tho' the Mother's grace
Revives improv'd, in ev'ry Daughter's face,
Undisciplin'd in dull Discretion's rules,
Untaught, and Undebauch'd by Boarding-Schools,
Free and ungaurded, let Them range the Town,
Go forth at random, and run pleasure down;
Start where she will, discard all taint of fear,
Nor think of danger, when no danger's near.
Watch not their steps — They're safe without thy care,
Unless, like Jennets, they conceive by air,
And ev're one of them may die a Nun,
Unless they breed, like Carrion, in the Sun.
Men, dead to pleasure, as they're dead to grace,
Against the law of Nature set their face,
The grand primaeval law, and seem combin'd
To stop the propagation of Mankind;
Vile Pathicks read the Marriage Act with pride,
And fancy that the Law is on their side.

Broke down, and Strength a stranger to his bed,
Old L—— tho' yet alive, is dead;
T—— lives no more, or lives not to our Isle;
No longer blest with a Cz——'s smile
T—— is at P—— disgrac'd,
And M—— grown grey, perforce grows chaste;
Nor to the credit of our modest race,
Rises one Stallion to supply their place.
A Maidenhead, which, twenty years ago,
In mid December, the rank Flky would blow
Tho' closely kept, now, when the Dog-Star's heat
Enflames the marrow, in the very street
May lie untouch'd, left for the worms, by Those
Who daintily pass by, and hold their nose.
Poor, plain Concupiscence is in disgrace,
And simple Letch'ry dares not shew her face
Lest she be sent to Bridewell; Bankrupts made,
To save their fortunes, Bawds leave off that trade,
Which first had left off them; to Well-close Square
Fine, fresh, young Strumpets (for DODD preaches there)
Throng for subsistence; Pimps no longer thrive,
And Pensions only keep L—— alive.

Where is the Mother, who thinks all her pain,
And all her jeopardy of travail, gain,
When a Man Child is born, thinks ev'ry pray'r,
Paid to the full, and answer'd in an heir?
Short-sighted Woman! little doth she know
What streams of sorrow from that source may flow,
Little suspect, while she surveys her Boy,
Her young NARCISSUS, with an eye of joy
Too full for Continence, that Fate could give
Her darling as a cruse, that she may lvie,
E're sixteen Winters they short course have run,
In agonies of soul, to curse that Son.

Pray then for Daughters, Ye wise Mothers, pray;
They shall reward your love, not make ye grey
Before your time with sorrow; they shall give
Ages of peace and comfort, whilst Ye live
Make life most truly worth your care, and save,
In spite of death, your mem'ries from the grave.
. . . .
Is a son born into this world of woe?
In never-ceasing streams let sorrow flow,
Be from that hour the house with sables hung
Let lamentations dwell upon thy tongue,
E'en from the moment that he first began
To wail and wine, let him not see a man.
Lock, Lock him up, far from thepublic eye,
Give him no opportunity to buy,
Or to be bought; B——, tho' rich, was sold,
And gave his body up to shame for gold.

Let it be bruited all about the Town,
That He is coarse, indelicate and brown,
An Antidote to Lust, his Face deep scarr'd
With the Small-Pox, his body maim'd and marr'd,
Eat up with the King's-evil, and his blood,
Tainted throughout, a thick and putrid flood,
Where dwells Corruption, making him all o'er,
From head to foot, a rank and running sore.
Should'st Thou report him as by Nature made,
He is undone, and by thy praise betray'd;
Give him out fair, Letchers in number more,
More brutal and more fierce, than throng'd the door
Of LOT in SODOM, shall to thine repair,
And force a passage, tho' a God is there.

Let him not have one Servant that is male;
Where Lords are baffled, Servants oft prevail.
Some vices They propose, to all agree;
H—— was guilty, but was M—— free?

Give him no Tutor — throw him to a punk,
Rather than trust his morals to a Monk —
Monks we all know — We, who have liv'd at home,
From fair report, and Travellers, who roam,
More feelingly — nor trust him to the gown,
'Tis oft a covering in this vile town
For base designs; Ourselves have liv'd to see
More than one Parson in the Pillory.
Should He have Brothers, (Image to thy view
A Scene, which, tho' not public made, is true)
Let jot one Brother be to t'other known,
Nor let his Father sit with him alone.
Be all his Servants, Female, Young, and Fair,
And if the Pride of Nature spur thy heir
To deeds of Venery, if, hot and wild,
He chance to get some score of maids with child,
Chide, but forgive him; Whoredom is a crime,
Which, more at this, than any other time,
Calls for indulgence, and, 'mongst such a race,
To have a bastard is some sign of grace.

Born in such time, should I sit tamely down,
Suppress my rage, and saunter thro' the town
As One who knew not, or who shar'd these crimes?
Should I at lesser evils point my rimes,
And let this Giant Sin, in the full eye
Of Observation, pass unwounded by?
Tho' our meek Wives, passive Obedience taught,
Patiently bear those wrongs, for which They ought,
With the brave Spirit of their dams possess'd,
To plant a dagger in each husband's breast,
To cut off male increase from this fair Isle,
And turn our Thames into another Nile;
Tho', on his Sunday, the smug PULPITEER,
Loud 'gainst all other crimes is silent here,
And thinks himself absolv'd, in the pretence
Of Decency, which meant for the defence
Of real Virtue, and to raise her price,
Becomes an Agent for the cause of Vice;
Tho' the Law sleeps, and thro' the care They take
To drug her well, may never more awake;
Born in such times, nor with that patience curst
Which Saints may boast of, I must speak, or burst.

But if, too eager in my bold career,
Haply I wound the nice, and chaster ear,
If, all unguarded, all too rude, I speak,
And call up blushes in the maiden's cheek,
Forgive, Ye Fair — my real motives view,
And to forgiveness add your praises too.
For You I write — nor wish a better plan,
The Cause of Woman is most worthy Man —
For You I still will write, nor hold my hand,
Whilst there's one slave of SODOM in the land.

Let them fly far, and skulk from place to place,
Not daring to meet Manhood face to face,
Their steps I'll track, nor yield them one retreat
Where They may hide their heads, or rest their feet,
'Till God in wrath shall let his vengeance fall,
And make a great example of them all,
Bidding in one grand pile this Town expire,
Her Tow'rs in dust, her Thames a lake of fire,
Or They (most worth our wish) convinc'd, tho' late,
Of their past crimes, and dangerous estate,
Pardon of Women with Repentance buy,
And learn to honour them, as much as I.

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Wanted To Cry (but The Tears Wouldn't Come)

Music : Klaus Meine
Lyrics: Klaus Meine
Well here comes my baby
She's dressed oh so cute
She looks a little crazy
In her Hollywood shoes
Well baby loves driving
In my hot brand new car
She thinks less than flying
Is not fast enough
But when you turn upside down
Life ain't too much fun
I wanted to cry
But the tears wouldn't come
Here comes my baby
She's the one I adore
Well she's a lucky lady
Born in a Gucci store
With gold cards in motion
And the platinum too
She jets across the ocean
A little faster than you
But when it rains in St. Barth
Life ain't too much fun
I wanted to cry
But the tears wouldn't come
I wanted to cry
But the tears wouldn't come
Every night without you
I miss to have you by my side
Ohh, so I keep waiting, I keep waiting
I swear I never let you go again
Well here comes my baby
With a Brad Pitt lookalike
Right through immigration
And straight out of my life
Well it seems the friendly skies
Are pretty good fun
I wanted to cry
But the tears wouldn't come
I wanted to cry
I wanted to cry
I wanted to cry
But the tears wouldn't come

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In The Thick Bush Of Your Love

Go through the titles of my poems and watch your steps,
Because they may easily expose your nakedness to me!
But i am like a woman in the thick bush of your love.

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Under The Safety Net Of Your Love

I was 6 years old when it occurred to me,
I was 10 years old when it occurred to me,
I was 12 years old when it occurred to me,
I was 20 years old when it occurred to me,
And like my other expereinces in life!
But, thkis whole story is all about my life;
And today, i am living under the safety net of your love.

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The Truth Is/ Out Where The Edge Of Pain Is

THE TRUTH IS/ OUT WHERE THE EDGE OF PAIN IS

The truth is
Out where the edge of pain is
I feel alone -
It is not that others before me did not know
And not that others after me will not know better than I -
But I do know
And its hard for me to know
That we human beings as we are
The only real higher beings we know
We are so small nothing in this impossibly large and stupid universe.

I

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The Oratory Of My Sweet Love

My love has fallen out into pleasant places so,
Come and taste this wonderful muse of mine;
For my heart is with joy and this glory rejoices!
And ther are pleasures evermore with you my love.

Do not let the path of this love slip you by,
For my sweet voice of love is better than the tumult of nations!
And my inward thought will rest on you always.

My heart praises your love but,
Come and listen to the oratory of my sweet love;
Because the heavens know what you are to me.

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The Blueprint...

When shall I feel I'm good enough?
As all of life's abrasions feel so rough.
When I journey deep within myself,
I see a broken soul left on the shelf...

Bruised and battered from all the pain,
When shall I ever feel whole again?
As I strive to be all that I can be,
The poet within bleeds inside of me...

Hopes and desires, I want so much more,
Yet I shall not become my dreamer's whore.
For my dreams they come from high above,
They are the blueprint of peace and love...

Spread the love... The peace will follow...

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The Mother Of All Errors....

she regrets
having to split with her
she wants to restore
what was originally
theirs, but, , ,

there is this big but,
there is no way that she can come back
and take her hands again

it is simply impossible
the world as affected shrinks into
a valueless
cent, and those who surround her
will never like it,

she went into a tantrum
unable to read the name of her medicine
her own dose of
her own poison

bad karma, she finds herself in a situation
of a dilemma

she is cursed to be alone now,
crushed by her own loneliness

defeated by the power of her own guilt
Kim.

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0243 The Sonnet

Why is this sonnet form so dear to me?
this silent cloister of the singing heart
where I may be myself in sanctity
yet meet beloved strangers there in art;

a shape like some great arch across the world
where every word has music in its sound;
a place like prayer, inner maze uncurled
to find a pattern in that measured ground;

a conversation with tomorrow's friends
of all we know but seldom talk about;
a haven in a time that never ends;
a love that's now a whisper, now a shout;

- to final couplet, falling heaven-blest
to stillness, in that space where all things rest.

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Hear The Music Of The Pines

Hear the music of the pines—
Murmuring through the climbing vines,
Sighing through the tree tops high,
Floating upward to the sky,
Then descending where I lie—
Hear the music of the pines!

What sweet thoughts the music brings,
What new gladness from it springs—
As reclining, in a dream,
Watch I, listless, a sunbeam
Dancing on the silvery stream—
What sweet thoughts the music brings!

Hear the music of the pines!
How it 'round my fancy twines—
While fragrances of flowers fill
All the pulses of my will
As I, lingering, linger still—
Hear the music of the pines!

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The Poet Is Looking For Love Deep İn The Night

sometimes you may find
sincerity to a poem as to
the date when it is written,

the hour particularly tells you
that a poem is written when
everyone in the house is
fast asleep, and

that someone
cannot sleep, because he
has to write some words for
someone, who

too, cannot
sleep,

not really because they
are insomniacs, much less
vampires looking for blood,
but perhaps someone

who is
looking for love, even in the
dark, even in the wee hours
even when love

is no longer
there, even when the night
is dead, even when there is
no one alive in this world
to tell him that he is alive
and must by all means and
at all cost, deserve to

be happy.

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The House Where Love Lives

A squeaky gate a welcome lock a big shaggy dog that lives out back
And some might even call it a shack but this is the house where love lives
The paint is peelin' off of the cells the mailbox is full of bills
And it's no mansion on the hill but this is the house where love lives
There's a little boy who looks just you with freckles on his nose and eyes of blue
A little girl almost two and everybody says she looks just like you
So thank you dear for loving me though I know rich we'll never be
But that doesn't matter to you and me cause we live in the house where love lives
[ steel ]
So thank you dear for loving me though I know rich we'll never be
But that doesn't matter to you and me cause we live in the house where love lives
We live in the house where love lives

song performed by Dolly PartonReport problemRelated quotes
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The Time Is Right For Love

When I saw you in the garden
Sweet lilac in your hair,
The sunlight seemed to surround you
And bless the morning air.
I wondered what your name was
And if you would dance with me,
I heard you cry for mercy
But, my eyes they could not see.
cos the time is right for love,
The time is right for love,
You can pray to the lord above
But, the time is right for love.
So much for all your sweet words,
All that you said you would do.
Remember all my love songs,
They were promises to you.
But, I dont hold it against you,
I know youre not to blame
So draw your circle around me
And well put all your lovers to shame.
cos the time is right for love,
The time is right for love,
You can pray to the lord above
But, the time is right for love.
(solo)
cos the time is right for love,
The time is right for love,
You can pray to the lord above
But, the time is right for love...

song performed by WhitesnakeReport problemRelated quotes
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The Day We Fall In Love

Words and music by
Sandy linzer and denny randell
Therell be birds singin evrywhere,
And the wind will be blowin thru your hair.
Ill look in your eyes
And wait for the prize;
Your lips kissing mine
With a love that is real.
And youll look so young and fair
On the day we fall in love!
You and me
On the day we fall in love.
Youll see!
Therell be rainbows reachin cross the sky
And well beoth be so happy we will cry.
Well walk hand in hand
In snow or in sand
Whether roses are blooming
Or snowmen stand by.
Time will stop, for you and i
On the day we fall in love!
It will be on the day we fall in love.
Youll see!
And if the lines that I say fall apart,
Its because I wont know where to start.
But youll undersand when I say them to you,
cause theyll come straight from my heart.
On the day we fall in love,
You and me,
On the day we fall in love,
Youll see,
Youll see.

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The Hands Of Whom We Love

what i have been writing is simply
the product of
a big distraction

it is like the blind
writing about light

i hear it and i know it
but i cannot clearly see it
and hence
i have never fully understood it


if i understood it
i shall not bother writing about it

this doubt shall make me live to write for more
i have it in my tongue but it slips the moment i want to utter it

behind me are scenes of my rumored true being
i set it aside for a while to describe it in words

but words are too shallow
i cannot bury my feet on them

and so the same things happen
night after night

sleepless after sleepless hands
groping for a dark and elusive fish in space


i submerge into unfathomable madness
do not get me wrong i am sane as the brightest star tonight

but just like it
there is no intimacy
for clarity

there is only beauty at a distance
like the way we wish to hold the hands of whom we love

we long that much but
we do not die.....

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The Iceland That Is Named Love

If you will have to go,
To the Iceland that is named Love
Take my memory along.

It is heard
That once there live a couple of swans,
They both governed each other’s heart,
Picked dreams descending into the eyes,
Wove the fabric of faithfulness with silky dialogues,
And renovated it on each day;
But what happened as the season changed,
They both flew on diverse directions,
It is heard
Since then they were not seen together.

The Iceland that is named Love,
If you will have to go there,
Please do visit the lonely tree,
Upon whose costume of the branches,
On every side the names of lovers are carved.
It is heard
That the inscribers never get a chance to rewrite,
They stamp their fingers with blood,
They lose their fortune, they accepted their defeat.

The Iceland that is named Love
If you will have to go there,
Take my memory along.
My memory is a shade in sweltering temperature
And it is a season of some village of the past.

By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar

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The Things We Do For Love

Too many broken hearts have fallen in the river
Too many lonely souls have drifted out to sea,
You lay your bets and then you pay the price
The things we do for love, the things we do for love.
Communication is the problem to the answer
You've got her number and your hand is on the phone
The weather's turned and all the lines are down
The things we do for love, the things we do for love.
Like walking in the rain and the snow
When there's nowhere to go
And you're feelin' like a part of you is dying
And you're looking for the answer in her eyes.
You think you're gonna break up
Then she says she wants to make up.
Ooh you made me love you
Ooh you've got a way
Ooh you had me crawling up the wall.
Like walking in the rain and the snow
When there's nowhere to go
And you're feelin' like a part of you is dying
And you're looking for the answer in her eyes.
You think you're gonna break up
Then she says she wants to make up.
Ooh you made me love you
Ooh you've got a way
Ooh you had me crawling up the wall.
A compromise would surely help the situation
Agree to disagree but disagree the part
When after all it's just a compromise of
The things we do for love, the things we do for love....

song performed by Amy GrantReport problemRelated quotes
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The Things We Do For Love

Too many broken hearts have fallen down the river
Too many lonely souls have drifted out to sea
You lay your bets and then you pay the price
The things we do for love
(the things we do for love)
Communication is the problem to the answer
Youve got her number and your hand is on the phone
The weathers turned and all the lines our down
The things we do for love
(the things we do for love)
Like walking in the rain and snow
When theres nowhere to go
And youre feeling like a part of you is dying
And youre looking for the answer in her eyes
You think you wanna break up
Then she says she wants to make up
Ooh, you make me love you
Ooh, youve got a way
Ooh, youve had me crawling up the wall
(solo)
Like walking in the rain and snow
When theres nowhere to go
And youre feeling like a part of you is dying
And youre looking for the answer in her eyes
You think you wanna break up
Then she says she wants to make up
Ooh, you make me love you
Ooh, youve got a way
Ooh, youve had me crawling up the wall
A compromise would surely help the situation
Agree to disagree, but disagree to part
Well after all its just a compromise
For the things we do for love
(the things we do for love)
the things we do for love
(the things we do for love)
the things we do for love
(the things we do for love)
(fade out

song performed by 10 CcReport problemRelated quotes
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The 7th Edition Of My Love

This poem is about the muse of your love,
But many will still wonder why?
Because i was in the bush last night and i saw your tears.

The dog became a god and the rat became a tar!
But war was very raw on your side;
And to leap for joy was like the peal of your muse.

I saw you tears yesterday,
But you can't repel the leper and come to me;
For the heavens know who i am,
But this poem will say it all.

This poem is about the muse of your love,
But what have they done to you my love? !
For i have seen the tears in your eyes.

I have now won the race and,
I will come and save you from this cold;
So put your clothes on without any clues on my muse,
For this era of your love is like the net over ten houses!
But i need a nap for you to use the pan on my stove.

The gel is now on your left leg,
And the dam is now visited by a mad man;
But a man at war is like the sorrows of your muse.

This is the 7th Edition of my love,
But i will come and save you from the heat!
And like shiny leaves with sharp points,
But try to abide in me and live with me in my abode.

Abreast yourself to the matters of love,
And leave your door ajar and let me meet Raja my friend;
For the anagram of my life is all about you,
Because Elvis lives in the land of your muse!

Append to my works to enhance your love,
But things around you are like the era of war!
So live up to the expectations of this poem,
And i will be there to save you with my sweet love.

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