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For The Sake Of Providing Clarity

For the sake of providing clarity...
It is not that those plans promised,
Did not produce those expectations.
They did!

However...
Those listening to what those plans were,
Assumed they were included in them.
And they weren't. Since this was never intended.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Great Expectations

Youre sittin in your seat
And then you stand and clutch your breast
Our music drives you wild along with the rest
You watch me singing this song
You see what my mouth can do
And you wish you were the one I was doing it to
And you watch me playin guitar
And you feel what my fingers can do
And you wish you were the one I was doing it to
Well, listen
Youve got great expectations
Youve got great expectations
Youre dying to be seen
And you wave and call my name
But in the day it seems that Im a million miles away
You watch me beatin my drum
And you know what my hands can do
And you wish you were the one I was doing it to
Well, listen
Youve got great expectations
Youve got great expectations
Youve got great expectations
Then you feels these eyes from the stage
And you see me staring at you
And you hear between the lines, my voice is calling to you
Well, listen
Youve got great expectations
Youve got great expectations
Youve got great expectations, do you want to play the role
Youve got great expectations, youd even sell me your soul
Youve got great expectations
Youve got great expectations
Youve got great expectations, do you want to play the role
Youve got great expectations, youd even sell me your soul
Youve got great expectations, as long as you can play the role
Youve got great expectations

song performed by Kiss
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Promise

How time will heal
Make me forget
You promised me
Time will heal
Make me forget
You promised me
Love will save us all
And time will heal
You promised me...
How love will save
Make me forget
You promised me
Love will save
Make me forget
You promised me
Time will heal us all
And love will save
You promised me...
I trusted you
I wanted your words
Believed in you
I needed your words
Time will heal
Make me forget
And love will save us all
You promised me another wish
Another way
You promised me another dream
Another day
You promised me another time
You promised me another life
You promised me...
So I swallowed the shame and I waited
I buried the blame and I waited
Choked back years of memories...
I pushed down the pain and I waited
Trying to forget...
You promised me another wish
Another way
You promised me another dream
Another day
You promised me another time
You promised me...
Another lie
Oh you promised me...
You promised me...you promised me
And I waited...and I waited...and I waited...
And I'm still waiting...

song performed by Cure
Added by Lucian Velea
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Many Incidents Intended

Many incidents intended,
Has evidence as incentive.
But no one pays attention...
Or listens to what's being said,
To what is being mentioned.

These speeding times leave minds behind.

Many incidents intended,
Has evidence as incentive.
But no one pays attention...
Or listens to what's being said,
To what is being mentioned.

These speeding times leave minds behind.
These speeding times leave minds behind.

Many incidents intended.
But no one pays attention...
Or listens to what's being said,
To what is being mentioned.

Many incidents intended.

Many incidents intended.
But no one pays attention...
Or listens to what's being said,
To what is being mentioned.

Many incidents intended.
Many incidents intended.
Many incidents intended.

These speeding times leave minds behind.

Many incidents intended.
Many incidents intended.
Many incidents intended.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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No, No, No

No!!
Let me take my scarf off,
No, no, no, yes, yes, yes.
Dont help me, (help me)
I can do it and you know it.
Dont touch me, (touch me)
I dont like it.
Let me take my blouse off,
No, no, no, yes, yes, yes.
Dont help me, (help me)
I can do it and you know it.
Dont touch me, (touch me)
I dont like it.
You promised me, you promised me,
You promised me, you promised me.
I dont remember what you promised,
I know you didnt keep it.
Let me take my pants off,
No, no, no, yes, yes, yes.
Dont hold me, (hold me)
I dont want it.
Youre thinking of rock hudson when we do it. (lets do it!)
Let me take my ring off,
No, no, no, yes, yes, yes.
Dont do it, (do it!)
I cant do it,
Im seeing broken glass when we do it. (do it!)
You promised me, you promised me,
You promised me, you promised me.
I dont remember what we promised,
But I know we didnt keep it.
You promised me, you promised me,
You promised me, you promised me.
I dont remember what we promised,
But I miss you!

song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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No, No, No/a Little Story

No!!
Let me take my scarf off,
No, no, no, yes, yes, yes.
Dont help me, (help me)
I can do it and you know it.
Dont touch me, (touch me)
I dont like it.
Let me take my blouse off,
No, no, no, yes, yes, yes.
Dont help me, (help me)
I can do it and you know it.
Dont touch me, (touch me)
I dont like it.
You promised me, you promised me,
You promised me, you promised me.
I dont remember what you promised,
I know you didnt keep it.
Let me take my pants off,
No, no, no, yes, yes, yes.
Dont hold me, (hold me)
I dont want it.
Youre thinking of rock hudson when we do it. (lets do it!)
Let me take my ring off,
No, no, no, yes, yes, yes.
Dont do it, (do it!)
I cant do it,
Im seeing broke glass when we do it. (do it!)
You promised me, you promised me,
You promised me, you promised me.
I dont remember what we promised,
But I know we didnt keep it.
You promised me, you promised me,
You promised me, you promised me.
I dont remember what we promised,
But I miss you!
- once there was this little boy who asked his father,
Would you tell me that old, old story?
Once there was this little boy who asked his father,
Would you tell me that old, old story?
Once there was this little boy and he went to...
- mummy...you should remember this more because dyou know why?
- why?
- I learnt it from my daddy, you know.
- umm-umm.
- hah-hah.
- once there was this little boy who asked his father
To tell him that old, old, old, old, old, old story.
Once upon a time there was this little boy who said,
Would you tell me that old, old story?
Once upon...

[...] Read more

song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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Art For Arts Sake

Gimme your body
Gimme your mind
Open your heart
Pull down the blind
Gimme your love gimme it all
Gimme in the kitchen gimme in the hall
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Gimme the readys
Gimme the cash
Gimme a bullet
Gimme a smash
Gimme a silver gimme a gold
Make it a million for when I get old
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Money talks so listen to it
Money talks to me
Anyone can understand it
Money cant be beat oh no
When you get down, down to the root
Dont give a damn dont give a hoot
Still gotta keep makin the loot
Chauffeur driven
Gotta make her quick as you can
Give her lovin make you a man
Get her in the palm of your hand
Bread from heaven
Gimme a country
Where I can be free
Dont need the unions
Strangling me
Keep me in exile the rest of my days
Burn me in hell but as long as it pays
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake
Art for arts sake
Money for gods sake

song performed by 10 Cc
Added by Lucian Velea
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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
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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0008 A Ghazal

I lie awake as the light night-rain falls, listening
to its irregularities, listening

as the breeze blows it now and then
against the window and the curtain flutters; listening

and wondering if I can hear
the rain listening

to itself, as if – I sometimes think I hear this –
there’s a moment just before it stops as if listening

to its own decision to stop, as if it sighs,
thinks, that’s enough; it could be listening

to the gratitude of the closed flowers, the wet earth,
the ecstasy of roots which are themselves listening

to the flowers sleeping, sighing in their sleep.
But do you wonder why I’m listening

instead of sleeping, this warm rainy night?
What’s so important that it needs my listening?

It was the rain that woke me; and as I turned, sighed,
it was the thought of you last night here next to me, listening

not to me, but to your own dreams – which I may never share;
though I may share you in my listening

to your sweet sleep’s breath, felt faintly on my shoulder;
and so, there’s a question in my listening –

did you awake at the same night rain, you so far away,
awake, sigh, and in your half-awakened listening

know that I too, thought of you?
Sighed that sweet thought, of our shared, single listening? …

As the perfume of a rose may be more evocative than the rose,
So sweeter, steadier than thought, dream, memory – the listening!

[A ghazal has a rhyme scheme aa ba ca da >]

poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Ballad of Burial

If down here I chance to die,
Solemnly I beg you take
All that is left of "I"
To the Hills for old sake's sake,
Pack me very thoroughly
In the ice that used to slake
Pegs I drank when I was dry --
This observe for old sake's sake.

To the railway station hie,
There a single ticket take
For Umballa -- goods-train -- I
Shall not mind delay or shake.
I shall rest contentedly
Spite of clamor coolies make;
Thus in state and dignity
Send me up for old sake's sake.

Next the sleepy Babu wake,
Book a Kalka van "for four."
Few, I think, will care to make
Journeys with me any more
As they used to do of yore.
I shall need a "special" break --
Thing I never took before --
Get me one for old sake's sake.

After that -- arrangements make.
No hotel will take me in,
And a bullock's back would break
'Neath the teak and leaden skin
Tonga ropes are frail and thin,
Or, did I a back-seat take,
In a tonga I might spin, --
Do your best for old sake's sake.

After that -- your work is done.
Recollect a Padre must
Mourn the dear departed one --
Throw the ashes and the dust.
Don't go down at once. I trust
You will find excuse to "snake
Three days' casual on the bust."
Get your fun for old sake's sake.

I could never stand the Plains.
Think of blazing June and May
Think of those September rains
Yearly till the Judgment Day!
I should never rest in peace,

[...] Read more

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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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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VII. Pompilia

I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.

All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.

Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—

[...] Read more

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

Though nature weigh our talents, and dispense
To every man his modicum of sense,
And Conversation in its better part
May be esteem'd a gift, and not an art,
Yet much depends, as in the tiller’s toil,
On culture, and the sowing of the soil.
Words learn'd by rote a parrot may rehearse,
But talking is not always to converse;
Not more distinct from harmony divine,
The constant creaking of a country sign.
As alphabets in ivory employ,
Hour after hour, the yet unletter’d boy,
Sorting and puzzling with a deal of glee
Those seeds of science call’d his a b c;
So language in the mouths of the adult,
Witness its insignificant result,
Too often proves an implement of play,
A toy to sport with, and pass time away.
Collect at evening what the day brought forth,
Compress the sum into its solid worth,
And if it weigh the importance of a fly,
The scales are false, or algebra a lie.
Sacred interpreter of human thought,
How few respect or use thee as they ought!
But all shall give account of every wrong,
Who dare dishonour or defile the tongue;
Who prostitute it in the cause of vice,
Or sell their glory at a market-price;
Who vote for hire, or point it with lampoon,
The dear-bought placeman, and the cheap buffoon.
There is a prurience in the speech of some,
Wrath stays him, or else God would strike them dumb;
His wise forbearance has their end in view,
They fill their measure and receive their due.
The heathen lawgivers of ancient days,
Names almost worthy of a Christian’s praise,
Would drive them forth from the resort of men,
And shut up every satyr in his den.
Oh, come not ye near innocence and truth,
Ye worms that eat into the bud of youth!
Infectious as impure, your blighting power
Taints in its rudiments the promised flower;
Its odour perish’d, and its charming hue,
Thenceforth ‘tis hateful, for it smells of you.
Not e’en the vigorous and headlong rage
Of adolescence, or a firmer age,
Affords a plea allowable or just
For making speech the pamperer of lust;
But when the breath of age commits the fault,
‘Tis nauseous as the vapour of a vault.

[...] Read more

poem by William Cowper
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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
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Anticipating Not

They move ahead with certainty, what they plan will come to be,
Making plans with an expectation, waiting with sure anticipation,
That the plans which they sow, just like a tree, shall surely grow,
But, without Christ, for sure, the plans they make will not endure.

Nations also make their plans too, with expectations, this is true,
However, the plans they long to see, are not sown with certainty,
Because the Decrees of The Lord, by many nations, go ignored,
So those darker plans of men, God Himself will surely condemn.

Many a people and nations too, plot out a plan that they pursue,
As they pursue their every desire, of other men they may inquire,
Never looking into God’s Ways, for they seek only man’s praise,
In man’s ways they put their trust, in beings who return unto dust.

Many plans which we see today, are put in place by men of clay,
Their plans fail before they begin, for they are inundated with sin,
And these men are like the grass, promoting ways that won’t last,
The dark plans that they create, The Righteous Lord will frustrate.

Man made plans oppose The Lord, and their ways aren’t ignored,
By a Sovereign Righteous God, reigning over all this earthly sod,
In the plans many contemplate, Judgment they do not anticipate,
So plans are ended by the Lord, as Judgment by God is poured.

The Lord’s Spirit will not contend, with man’s evil ways in the end,
Man’s foolishness, in God’s eyes, is thought by many to be wise,
Man’s godless ways and thought, will bring man’s plan to naught,
As the only plan that shall endure, is the Eternal plan of The Lord.

(Copyright ©12/2009)

poem by Bob Gotti
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Listening Week

This is the listening week of the year
Listening-in.
A-cock and alert is the national ear
Listening-in.
All over the land in the country towns,
From the back of the Leeuwin to Darling Downs,
Layers of 'quids' or the odd half-crowns,
They are listening-in.

On the far-flung farms they are round each set,
Listening-in.
The work and the worry they all forget,
Listening-in.
Wherever an aerial soars in space
To the Cup, or the Oaks or the Steeplechase,
To the roar of the ring and the lure of the race
They are listening-in.

In the far outback there are sun-tanned men,
Listening-in.
Where the woolshed stands by the drafting pen
Listening-in.
Old Dad's come in from the Ninety Mile;
He scored on the Cup and he wears a smile,
And he 'reckons this game is well worth while'
So he's listening in.

To the edge of the desert the sound-waves go;
And, listening-in,
Ned of the Overland, Saltbush Joe
Listening-in
Recall the giants of years long past,
And the loneliness of these spaces vast;
But they reckon that life's worth living at last
With this listening-in.

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Added by Poetry Lover
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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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For Old Times Sake

Lets make love for old times sake.
Lets set right an old mistake.
Lets invite our hearts to break.
Its right tonight, but just for old times sake.
Remember you as mars, and me as venus.
Strange to see the grey in your hair.
And now to feel a peace so deep between us,
And to realize that we still care.
Lets make love for old times sake.
Lets set right an old mistake.
Lets invite our hearts to break.
Its right tonight, but just for old times sake.
I used to think we would wind up together,
Our destinies always entwined.
Oh, but your heart kept changing like the weather,
And you wound up leaving me behind.
Lets make love for old times sake.
Lets set right an old mistake.
Lets invite our hearts to break.
Its right tonight, but just for old times sake.
Lets make love for old times sake.
Lets set right an old mistake.
Lets invite our hearts to break.
Its right tonight, but just for old times sake.
Its right tonight, yeah,
But just for old times sake...
Its right tonight for old times sake.
For old times sake.
Old times sake...

song performed by Carly Simon
Added by Lucian Velea
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Break Your Plans

[intro]
Whatchu wanna do
Whatchu trying to say
Do you wanna play?
Do you wanna go?
Whatchu wanna do
Whatchu trying to say
Do you wanna play?
Do you wanna play with me?
Oh, baby take your time
Cuz I know you got somebody baby
And I know you want me so
So later, meet me here at 10:00
But I cant call you on the phone
Cuz you got someone at home
So hit me on my cell, 275-4321
I know that you wanna be with me
Tonight, break your plans with your man
Cuz you been thinking about me all day long
Baby, break your plans with your man
Oh baby, understand
Im ready if youre willing
(Im ready to get down)
To take a chance
Cuz if he finds out
He might not like it
So keep it on the down low
Dont tell nobody, oh no
What goes on between us
Stays between us
Some might say that its cheating
But all Im doin is creepin
Cuz all I know is I got you feinin, feinin
I know that you wanna be with me
Tonight, break your plans with your man
Cuz you been thinking about me all day long
Baby, break your plans with your man
I know you want me
Lets get busy
Tonight, lady break your plans with your man
Do you wanna play?
(do you wanna play baby? )
(do you wanna play? )
I know, I know, I know, I know
I know that you wanna be with me
Tonight, break your plans with your man
Cuz you been thinking about me all day long
Baby, break your plans with your man
I know that you wanna be with me
Tonight, break your plans with your man

[...] Read more

song performed by Ideal
Added by Lucian Velea
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Just Walk Away

When you've given all you've got...
Just walk away.
Don't you dare to get uptight.
Just walk away.
If someone does not act right.
Just walk away.

Don't argue or defend,
When no one there is listening.

When you've given all you've got...
Just walk away.
Don't you dare to get uptight.
Just walk away.
If someone does not act right.
Just walk away.

Just walk away.
When no one there is listening.
Just walk away.
When no one there is listening.
Just walk away.

Don't argue or defend,
When no one there is listening.

Just walk away.
When no one there is listening.
Just walk away.
When no one there is listening.
Just walk away.

When you've given all you've got...
Just walk away.
Don't you dare to get uptight.
Just walk away.
If someone does not act right.
Just walk away.

Don't argue or defend,
When no one there is listening.

Just walk away.
When no one there is listening.
Just walk away.
When no one there is listening.
Do you just walk away.
Just walk away.
Just-walk-away.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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