I Had Been Drinking
I had been drinking.
That's why the reality of my true ignorance,
Was revealed in the manner that it was.
Normally I am a more private fool.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
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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The Haggis Of Private McPhee
"Hae ye heard whit ma auld mither's postit tae me?
It fair maks me hamesick," says Private McPhee.
"And whit did she send ye?" says Private McPhun,
As he cockit his rifle and bleezed at a Hun.
"A haggis! A Haggis!" says Private McPhee;
"The brawest big haggis I ever did see.
And think! it's the morn when fond memory turns
Tae haggis and whuskey--the Birthday o' Burns.
We maun find a dram; then we'll ca' in the rest
O' the lads, and we'll hae a Burns' Nicht wi' the best."
"Be ready at sundoon," snapped Sergeant McCole;
"I want you two men for the List'nin' Patrol."
Then Private McPhee looked at Private McPhun:
"I'm thinkin', ma lad, we're confoundedly done."
Then Private McPhun looked at Private McPhee:
"I'm thinkin' auld chap, it's a' aff wi' oor spree."
But up spoke their crony, wee Wullie McNair:
"Jist lea' yer braw haggis for me tae prepare;
And as for the dram, if I search the camp roun',
We maun hae a drappie tae jist haud it doon.
Sae rin, lads, and think, though the nicht it be black,
O' the haggis that's waitin' ye when ye get back."
My! but it wis waesome on Naebuddy's Land,
And the deid they were rottin' on every hand.
And the rockets like corpse candles hauntit the sky,
And the winds o' destruction went shudderin' by.
There wis skelpin' o' bullets and skirlin' o' shells,
And breengin' o' bombs and a thoosand death-knells;
But cooryin' doon in a Jack Johnson hole
Little fashed the twa men o' the List'nin' Patrol.
For sweeter than honey and bricht as a gem
Wis the thocht o' the haggis that waitit for them.
Yet alas! in oor moments o' sunniest cheer
Calamity's aften maist cruelly near.
And while the twa talked o' their puddin' divine
The Boches below them were howkin' a mine.
And while the twa cracked o' the feast they would hae,
The fuse it wis burnin' and burnin' away.
Then sudden a roar like the thunner o' doom,
A hell-leap o' flame . . . then the wheesht o' the tomb.
"Haw, Jock! Are ye hurtit?" says Private McPhun.
"Ay, Geordie, they've got me; I'm fearin' I'm done.
It's ma leg; I'm jist thinkin' it's aff at the knee;
Ye'd best gang and leave me," says Private McPhee.
"Oh leave ye I wunna," says Private McPhun;
"And leave ye I canna, for though I micht run,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert William Service
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What Has Been Revealed
What has been revealed,
Has been revealed.
Even with eyes tightly closed...
What has been revealed,
Has been revealed.
Even with an upturned nose...
What has been revealed,
Has been revealed.
Even with pretensions,
Left to charade.
What has been revealed,
Has been revealed.
Even with the cool-aid made...
What has been revealed,
Has been revealed.
Even with debates...
Created for more time to waste.
What has been revealed,
Has been revealed.
Even those who protest,
Unaccepting with wishes to reject!
What has been revealed,
Has been revealed.
Even the message,
And the messenger to detest!
What has been revealed,
Has been revealed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Idylls of the King: The Last Tournament (excerpt)
Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood
Had made mock-knight of Arthur's Table Round,
At Camelot, high above the yellowing woods,
Danced like a wither'd leaf before the hall.
And toward him from the hall, with harp in hand,
And from the crown thereof a carcanet
Of ruby swaying to and fro, the prize
Of Tristram in the jousts of yesterday,
Came Tristram, saying, "Why skip ye so, Sir Fool?"
For Arthur and Sir Lancelot riding once
Far down beneath a winding wall of rock
Heard a child wail. A stump of oak half-dead.
From roots like some black coil of carven snakes,
Clutch'd at the crag, and started thro' mid air
Bearing an eagle's nest: and thro' the tree
Rush'd ever a rainy wind, and thro' the wind
Pierced ever a child's cry: and crag and tree
Scaling, Sir Lancelot from the perilous nest,
This ruby necklace thrice around her neck,
And all unscarr'd from beak or talon, brought
A maiden babe; which Arthur pitying took,
Then gave it to his Queen to rear: the Queen
But coldly acquiescing, in her white arms
Received, and after loved it tenderly,
And named it Nestling; so forgot herself
A moment, and her cares; till that young life
Being smitten in mid heaven with mortal cold
Past from her; and in time the carcanet
Vext her with plaintive memories of the child:
So she, delivering it to Arthur, said,
"Take thou the jewels of this dead innocence,
And make them, an thou wilt, a tourney-prize."
To whom the King, "Peace to thine eagle-borne
Dead nestling, and this honour after death,
Following thy will! but, O my Queen, I muse
Why ye not wear on arm, or neck, or zone
Those diamonds that I rescued from the tarn,
And Lancelot won, methought, for thee to wear."
"Would rather you had let them fall," she cried,
"Plunge and be lost--ill-fated as they were,
A bitterness to me!--ye look amazed,
Not knowing they were lost as soon as given--
Slid from my hands, when I was leaning out
Above the river--that unhappy child
Past in her barge: but rosier luck will go
With these rich jewels, seeing that they came
Not from the skeleton of a brother-slayer,
[...] Read more
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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The Last Tournament
Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood
Had made mock-knight of Arthur's Table Round,
At Camelot, high above the yellowing woods,
Danced like a withered leaf before the hall.
And toward him from the hall, with harp in hand,
And from the crown thereof a carcanet
Of ruby swaying to and fro, the prize
Of Tristram in the jousts of yesterday,
Came Tristram, saying, `Why skip ye so, Sir Fool?'
For Arthur and Sir Lancelot riding once
Far down beneath a winding wall of rock
Heard a child wail. A stump of oak half-dead,
From roots like some black coil of carven snakes,
Clutched at the crag, and started through mid air
Bearing an eagle's nest: and through the tree
Rushed ever a rainy wind, and through the wind
Pierced ever a child's cry: and crag and tree
Scaling, Sir Lancelot from the perilous nest,
This ruby necklace thrice around her neck,
And all unscarred from beak or talon, brought
A maiden babe; which Arthur pitying took,
Then gave it to his Queen to rear: the Queen
But coldly acquiescing, in her white arms
Received, and after loved it tenderly,
And named it Nestling; so forgot herself
A moment, and her cares; till that young life
Being smitten in mid heaven with mortal cold
Past from her; and in time the carcanet
Vext her with plaintive memories of the child:
So she, delivering it to Arthur, said,
`Take thou the jewels of this dead innocence,
And make them, an thou wilt, a tourney-prize.'
To whom the King, `Peace to thine eagle-borne
Dead nestling, and this honour after death,
Following thy will! but, O my Queen, I muse
Why ye not wear on arm, or neck, or zone
Those diamonds that I rescued from the tarn,
And Lancelot won, methought, for thee to wear.'
`Would rather you had let them fall,' she cried,
`Plunge and be lost-ill-fated as they were,
A bitterness to me!-ye look amazed,
Not knowing they were lost as soon as given-
Slid from my hands, when I was leaning out
Above the river-that unhappy child
Past in her barge: but rosier luck will go
With these rich jewels, seeing that they came
Not from the skeleton of a brother-slayer,
[...] Read more
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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In Private
Yo wussup baby?
Its been a while since I seen you.
See tonight we gonna do something a lil different.
See we gonna do it like this...
Oh weekend alone, waters running, bubbles bublin.
No kids, no work, no phones, pagers.
Im gon give you what youre worth.
I just wanna take all your worries away.
All away.
Meet me at our weekend getaway, just you and me.
When were in private.
I just wanna see the things that I dont get to see.
But now its you and me.
Were in private.
Call your girls and tellem you aint going nowhere.
Its getting hot in here.
In private.
Hot suds, good love, champagne, maintain in a heart-shaped tub.
In private.
Think of all the things we can do, well do.
When it's just me and you.
See this is an exclusive.
So damn secluded.
No one will know where were at.
Just me and you.
Ill eat strawberries of off you.
Before I get on top of you, baby.
I just wanna take all your troubles away.
So dont trip, no lip.
Lets get this love train goin.
I'm on my way.
When were in private.
I just wanna see the things that I dont get to see.
But now its you and me.
Were in private.
Call your girls and tellem you aint going nowhere.
Its getting hot in here.
In private.
Hot suds, good love, champagne,
maintain in a heart-shaped tub.
In private.
Think of all the things we can do, well do.
When it's just me and you.
You can let your hair down.
You can be freaky as you want to be.
No one can hear a sound.
Baby, you scream as loud...
When were in private.
I just wanna see the things that I dont get to see.
But now its you and me.
[...] Read more
song performed by Jagged Edge
Added by Lucian Velea
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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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Tall Tall Trees
If you want to drive a big limousine
Ill buy the longest one youve ever seen
Ill buy you tall, tall trees
On all the waters and the seas
Im a fool, fool, fool for you
If you want to own a great big mansion
Well Ill give it my utmost attention
Ill buy you tall, tall trees
On all the waters and the seas
Im a fool, fool, fool for you
Well Im a fool, a fool for you
(it may take awhile, but Ill prove its true
Well if its lovin you want, then Ive got it
If its money you want, then Ill get it
Ill buy you tall, tall trees
On all the waters and the seas
Im a fool, fool, fool for you
(yahoo)
Instrumental break
If you want to take a trip across the ocean
Ill travel anywhere you take a notion
Ill buy you tall, tall trees
On all the waters and the seas
Im a fool, fool, fool for you
If you want to own a great big mansion
Well Ill give it my utmost attention
Ill buy you tall, tall trees
On all the waters and the seas
Im a fool, fool, fool for you
Well Im a fool, a fool for you
(it may take awhile, but Ill prove its true
Well if its lovin you want, then Ive got it
If its money you want, then Ill get it
Ill buy you tall, tall trees
On all the waters and the seas
Im a fool, fool, fool for you
Yeah, Im a fool, fool, fool for you
song performed by Alan Jackson
Added by Lucian Velea
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An Honesty Is Felt And Seen
You think a truth revealed,
Can be from some withheld.
You think a truth revealed,
Can be from some withheld.
You say the people don't re-act the way you expect.
But...
You think a truth revealed,
Can be from some withheld.
Any 'thing' said to you upsets and affects,
'Cause...
You think a truth revealed,
Can be from some withheld.
You think a truth revealed,
Can be from some withheld.
And you can't accept an honesty is felt and seen.
You think a truth revealed,
Can be from some withheld.
You think a truth revealed,
Can be from some withheld.
You say the people don't re-act the way you expect.
But...
You think a truth revealed,
Can be from some withheld.
You think a truth revealed,
Can be from some withheld.
You think a truth revealed,
Can be from some withheld.
And you can't accept an honesty is felt and seen.
You think a truth revealed,
Can be from some withheld.
And you can't accept an honesty is felt and seen.
You think a truth revealed,
Can be from some withheld.
You think a truth revealed,
Can be from some withheld.
You think a truth revealed,
Can be from some withheld.
And you can't accept...
An honesty is felt and seen.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Ghost - Book IV
Coxcombs, who vainly make pretence
To something of exalted sense
'Bove other men, and, gravely wise,
Affect those pleasures to despise,
Which, merely to the eye confined,
Bring no improvement to the mind,
Rail at all pomp; they would not go
For millions to a puppet-show,
Nor can forgive the mighty crime
Of countenancing pantomime;
No, not at Covent Garden, where,
Without a head for play or player,
Or, could a head be found most fit,
Without one player to second it,
They must, obeying Folly's call,
Thrive by mere show, or not at all
With these grave fops, who, (bless their brains!)
Most cruel to themselves, take pains
For wretchedness, and would be thought
Much wiser than a wise man ought,
For his own happiness, to be;
Who what they hear, and what they see,
And what they smell, and taste, and feel,
Distrust, till Reason sets her seal,
And, by long trains of consequences
Insured, gives sanction to the senses;
Who would not (Heaven forbid it!) waste
One hour in what the world calls Taste,
Nor fondly deign to laugh or cry,
Unless they know some reason why;
With these grave fops, whose system seems
To give up certainty for dreams,
The eye of man is understood
As for no other purpose good
Than as a door, through which, of course,
Their passage crowding, objects force,
A downright usher, to admit
New-comers to the court of Wit:
(Good Gravity! forbear thy spleen;
When I say Wit, I Wisdom mean)
Where (such the practice of the court,
Which legal precedents support)
Not one idea is allow'd
To pass unquestion'd in the crowd,
But ere it can obtain the grace
Of holding in the brain a place,
Before the chief in congregation
Must stand a strict examination.
Not such as those, who physic twirl,
Full fraught with death, from every curl;
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Churchill
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No Fool No More
Packed up all the pain
Left the tears outside my door
And Im not gonna be the one
Whos left out in the rain no more
I see it so clearly
The writing is on the wall
Tellin me Im gonna be
Alright after all
Now I open my eyes
And I finally wise, no, no
No fool no more
No fool no more
Not like before
Not the way it used to be
No fool no more
No tears this time
cause this time Im wise
To the game thats been goin on
And Im not gonna be no fool no more
Ooh
Oohoohoohooh
No fool
No room for sad regrets
cause the past is done and gone
And Ive learned that its time that makes you wise
And truth that makes you strong
You thought you were so cool
Pull the wool right over my heart
But now you see that you cant keep
This heart in the dark
cause I see through your eyes
Wont be blind one more time, no, no
No fool no more
No fool no more (no fool, baby)
Not like before
Not the way it used to be
No fool no more
No tears this time (no tears, baby)
cause this time Im wise (Im wise)
To the game thats been goin on (to the game, uh, uh)
And Im not gonna be no fool no more
Gonna pull my heart together
Gonna leave the past behind
Gonna get to somethin better
Put you out of my mind, yeah
Im gonna be strong
Im gonna be fine
I just want you to know
That Im not gonna be no fool no more
No fool (no, no) no more
[...] Read more
song performed by En Vogue
Added by Lucian Velea
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Private Joy
My little secret, my private joy
I could never let another play with my toy
My little angel from heaven above
oh oh oh oh oh I think I'm falling in love
And I ain't gonna tell nobody nobody 'bout my little pretty toy
All the other kids would love to love u but u're my little private joy
my private joy -- u're my private joy
private joy -- such a pretty toy
joy, u are my private joy
U're my little lover, Orgasmatron
Only I know, only I know, baby, what turns u on
U're my little secret neon light
Girl I wanna turn it on turn it on turn it on every night
Ain't gonna tell nobody nobody 'bout my little pretty toy
All the other kids would love to love u but u're my little private joy
my private joy -- u're my private joy
private joy -- such a pretty toy
joy -- oh my private joy
Shoot me up baby, let's take a trip
I can't get enough can't get enough of your private private joy joy
joy -- such a such a pretty toy
joy -- u are my private joy
joy -- shoot me up baby, let's take a trip
joy -- can't get enough of your private
joy -- come on honey baby get up, get up
I strangled Valentino (He strangled Valentino)
Been mine ever since (been his ever since)
If anybody asks u (if anybody asks u)
U belong to Prince (U belong to Prince)
come on baby, get up, get up, get up, get up
song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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Privat Joy
My little secret, my private joy
I could never let another play with my toy
My little angel from heaven above
Oh oh oh oh oh I think Im falling in love
And I aint gonna tell nobody nobody bout my little pretty toy
All the other kids would love to love u but ure my little private joy
My private joy -- ure my private joy
Private joy -- such a pretty toy
Joy, u are my private joy
Ure my little lover, orgasmatron
Only I know, only I know, baby, what turns u on
Ure my little secret neon light
Girl I wanna turn it on turn it on turn it on every night
Aint gonna tell nobody nobody bout my little pretty toy
All the other kids would love to love u but ure my little private joy
My private joy -- ure my private joy
Private joy -- such a pretty toy
Joy -- oh my private joy
Shoot me up baby, lets take a trip
I cant get enough cant get enough of your private private joy joy
Joy -- such a such a pretty toy
Joy -- u are my private joy
Joy -- shoot me up baby, lets take a trip
Joy -- cant get enough of your private
Joy -- come on honey baby get up, get up
I strangled valentino (he strangled valentino)
Been mine ever since (been his ever since)
If anybody asks u (if anybody asks u)
U belong to prince (u belong to prince)
Come on baby, get up, get up, get up, get up
song performed by Prince
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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In a Manner of Speaking
In a manner of speaking, I want to kill you,
said the drunk redneck to his wife,
In a manner of speaking, I don't love you,
said my ex (turned vegan) to me,
as I returned from a psych ward, hoping for
some sort of reconciliation,
And in a manner of speaking, the whole
world has gone to shit, that no mentally
unbalanced poet can improve upon,
In a manner of speaking, I was just a haiku
before I birthed an epic poem in 2008
and it went something like:
In a manner of speaking…
In a manner of speaking, there is plenty of
beer and loose women,
In a manner of speaking, there is plenty of
internet journals with useless information,
In a manner of speaking, there are plenty of
assholes writing about getting laid and anal sex
on MySpace,
In a manner of speaking, my friend got raped
a few years ago and now has occasional herpes
outbreaks, which are quite disturbing
to her husband,
In a manner of speaking, I'm losing faith in humanity
and love at times,
In a manner of speaking, we just go through the motions,
hoping for something to change or something
spectacular to happen.
But I don't really know any more,
trying to make sense of it all, screaming for some sort of
sanity that eludes me,
In a manner of speaking, I feel alone here,
unable to connect to what's around me-
I just told some guy at a bar that I was a Dallas Cowboys
fan and I don't even watch football,
and he told me to come in my 'gear' on Sunday,
In a manner of speaking, I feel somewhat liberated
because I have no clue as to what I'm doing,
knowing that there is really no escape.
January 8,2008
-Alexander Shaumyan
poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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Private Life
This is my private life
I have no friends to fear
Ive got no problems no cross to bear
If you can find me
Come and get me out of here
Chorus
This is my private life
This is my private life
This is my private life . . .
These are my private things
There they are against the wall
The dirty pictures, religious objects
These are my private things
Come and get them out of here
This is my private bed
This is where I lie at night
Staring at a light bulb hanging on the ceiling
Waiting for a dream to
Come and get me out of here
Bridge
Here in my humble room at night
I often wonder what goes on out there
What makes them runs o scared
I often stare at the people passing by
But they cant see me thru my window shades
Just like Im not even there
Chorus
This is my private life
This is my private life
This is my private life
Theres something dangerous I like
This is my private life
I know my problems arent your fault
What I really want to know
Has it always been this way
This is my private life
This is my private life
This is my private life
Come and get me out of here
song performed by Oingo Boingo
Added by Lucian Velea
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Stream Line Consciousness
Big brother voyeur blimps unidentified spies
uncle sam peeping toms patrolling skies
bird brain police intelligence
remote viewing homeland pest control
pentagon private eye monitoring the public's every move
mass produced micro chips intercepting prayers patrolling citizens from heaven
Bentham's Panopticon NSA
super computer surveillance cameras
world police spying Manhattan streets
'Athens plummets Euro death spiral
suicide rates soar deepening into despair'
haaretz..the post.. the times
blogs tribunes dailies all in a mad gab
headlong headline attention grabbing scramble
'Yugoslavia - Iraq - Egypt - Yemen - Iran - Syria - United States'
bilderberg building blocks New American Century post apocalyptic prophecy
'foreign mercenaries …national guard...DOD
homeland security to amass covert munitions stockpile
Americans on guard anxieties mounting surrounding
the stripping of amendments 1st if you swing to your left
2nd if you stand on the right
whispers of martial law circulate Anarchical reverberations
emanate from internet Alt culture epicenters
bottle necking global tensions'
'common feeling of deepening disappointment...
heightened expectations...
people expecting an explosive situation over the
next few weeks'
...riot police respond 'to preserve public order'
public roads barricaded to 'protect security of citizens'
'blatant act of censorship
western mainstream media staying away
from Myanmar massacres of Mohammedan Angels
further showing strong anti Muslim bias'
'Media blackout Burmese army
seeking coverage under propaganda blankets'
from the middle east throughout the western world
planet consciousness blurring lines between conspiracy/reality
conflicting global network narratives multiply violent scenarios daily
Victims in a world wide scramble
Government Banking Military
[...] Read more
poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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Any Other Fool
(dianne warren)
I couldnt see paradise right before my eyes
When I had you here by my side
I didnt know that no-one else
Could ever take your place
But, now I know
I know that I should have stayed
And seeing you tonight
I only wonder why
I ever said goodbye
Any other fool would never walk away
Even a fool would still be there
Holding you
Any other fool would know I never
Should have let you go
I had it all as any fool could see
Any other fool but me, oh, ahh, oh
Anyone else never would have let the feeling die
Anyone else would have fought to keep it alive
If they were in my shoes
Theyd know the love we had
Was love too good to lose
Any other fool would never walk away
Even a fool would still be there
Holding you
Oh, any other fool would know
I never should have let you go
I had it all when you were loving me
I had it all as any fool could see
Any other fool but me, oh, oh, oh
I had it all when you were loving me
I had it all as any fool could see
Any other fool but me
Any other fool would never walk away
Even a fool would still be there
Holding you
Oh, any other fool would know
Never should have let you go
Had it all as any fool could see
Any other fool but me
Oh, oh, oh
Even a fool would still be there holding you
Any other fool would know
I never should have let you go
I had it all as any fool could see
song performed by Dusty Springfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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Quatrains Of Life
What has my youth been that I love it thus,
Sad youth, to all but one grown tedious,
Stale as the news which last week wearied us,
Or a tired actor's tale told to an empty house?
What did it bring me that I loved it, even
With joy before it and that dream of Heaven,
Boyhood's first rapture of requited bliss,
What did it give? What ever has it given?
'Let me recount the value of my days,
Call up each witness, mete out blame and praise,
Set life itself before me as it was,
And--for I love it--list to what it says.
Oh, I will judge it fairly. Each old pleasure
Shared with dead lips shall stand a separate treasure.
Each untold grief, which now seems lesser pain,
Shall here be weighed and argued of at leisure.
I will not mark mere follies. These would make
The count too large and in the telling take
More tears than I can spare from seemlier themes
To cure its laughter when my heart should ache.
Only the griefs which are essential things,
The bitter fruit which all experience brings;
Nor only of crossed pleasures, but the creed
Men learn who deal with nations and with kings.
All shall be counted fairly, griefs and joys,
Solely distinguishing 'twixt mirth and noise,
The thing which was and that which falsely seemed,
Pleasure and vanity, man's bliss and boy's.
So I shall learn the reason of my trust
In this poor life, these particles of dust
Made sentient for a little while with tears,
Till the great ``may--be'' ends for me in ``must.''
My childhood? Ah, my childhood! What of it
Stripped of all fancy, bare of all conceit?
Where is the infancy the poets sang?
Which was the true and which the counterfeit?
I see it now, alas, with eyes unsealed,
That age of innocence too well revealed.
The flowers I gathered--for I gathered flowers--
Were not more vain than I in that far field.
[...] Read more
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Insomnia
Reading magazines and counting sheep to pass the time away
Hoping that tomorrows gonna bring a smile home again
Images of palm trees swaying in the wind on south beach
Takes me back to better days, summer days the everglades in june
My brain, my poor brain
My brain, my poor brain
Im drinking myself to sleep again, nightnurse pills to keep me sane
Drinking myself to sleep again, insomnia
Flying high in golden skies, Im flicking channels in my mind
Finding my utopia a different chapter in a book
Thinking back to younger days as I escape in coopers break
It takes me back to 84 the futures knocking at my door
My brain, my poor brain
My brain, my poor brain
Im drinking myself to sleep again, nightnurse pills to keep me sane
Drinking myself to sleep again, insomnia Im drinking myself to sleep again, nightnurse pills to keep me sane
Drinking myself to sleep again, insomnia
Turning off a switch inside me, leaving all the stress behind me
Flying over streams and houses, passing over the wye valley
It takes me back to 84 the futures knocking at my door
My brain, my poor brain
Im drinking myself to sleep again, nightnurse pills to keep me sane
Drinking myself to sleep again, insomnia Im drinking myself to sleep again, nightnurse pills to keep me sane
Drinking myself to sleep again, insomnia Im drinking myself to sleep again, nightnurse pills to keep me sane
Drinking myself to sleep again, insomnia.
song performed by Feeder
Added by Lucian Velea
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