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Ball of four ply wool
Entangled on marble floor;
Hand knits out of vogue.

senryu by Mamta Agarwal
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Sobre Horizontes

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[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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La Bouquetiere

Buy my roses, citizens,--
Here are roses golden white,
Like the stars that lovers watch
On a purple summer night.
Here are roses ruddy red,
Here are roses Cupid's pink;
Here are roses like his cheeks--
Deeper--like his lips, I think.
Vogue la galere! what if they die,
Roses will bloom again--so, buy!

Here is one--it should be white;
As tho' in a playful mind,
Flora stole the winter snow
From the sleeping north'rn wind
And lest he should wake and rage,
Breath'd a spell of ardent pow'r
On the flake, and flung it down
To the earth, a snow-white flow'r.
Vogue la galere! 'tis stain'd with red?
That only means--a woman's dead!

Buy my flowers, citizens,--
Here's a Parma violet;
Ah! why is my white rose red?
'Tis the blood of a grisette;
She sold her flowers by the quay;
Brown her eyes and fair her hair;
Sixteen summers old, I think--
With a quaint, Provincial air.
Vogue la galere! she's gone the way
That flesh as well as flow'rs must stray.

She had a father old and lame;
He wove his baskets by her side;
Well, well! 'twas fair enough to see
Her look of love, his glance of pride;
He wore a beard of shaggy grey,
And clumsy patches on his blouse;
She wore about her neck a cross,
And on her feet great wooden shoes.
Vogue la galere! we have no cross,
Th' Republic says it's gold is dross!

They had a dog, old, lame, and lean;
He once had been a noble hound;
And day by day he lay and starv'd,
Or gnaw'd some bone that he had found.
They shar'd with him the scanty crust,
That barely foil'd starvation's pain;

[...] Read more

poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
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Wat Tyler - Act III

ACT III.

SCENE—SMITHFIELD.

PIERS (meeting JOHN BALL.)

You look disturb'd, my father?

JOHN BALL.

Piers, I am so.
Jack Straw has forced the Tower: seized the Archbishop,
And beheaded him.

PIERS.

The curse of insurrection!

JOHN BALL.

Aye, Piers! our nobles level down their vassals—
Keep them at endless labour like their brutes,
Degrading every faculty by servitude:
Repressing all the energy of the mind.
We must not wonder then, that like wild beasts,
When they have burst their chains, with brutal rage
They revenge them on their tyrants.

PIERS.

This Archbishop!
He was oppressive to his humble vassals:
Proud, haughty, avaricious.—

JOHN BALL.

A true high-priest!
Preaching humility with his mitre on!
Praising up alms and Christian charity
Even whilst his unforgiving hand distress'd
His honest tenants.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Southey
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Vogue a Pose

Assimilate all of your excessive moves.
Co-ordinate every accessory you choose.
Separate each pose,
To develop into downloaded grooves.
And vogue a pose you could carry over...
Like a model throttled up,
In a hold held bold.

And vogue a pose,
You could carry over...
For a paparazzi set,
To make you that 'IT' yet!

And vogue a pose,
You could carry over...
Either on the internet.
Or something you could even text.

And vogue a pose,
You could carry over...
For a paparazzi set,
To make you that 'IT' yet!

Assimilate all of your excessive moves.
Co-ordinate every accessory you choose.
Separate each pose,
To develop into downloaded grooves.
And vogue a pose you could carry over...
Like a model throttled up,
In a hold held bold.

And vogue a pose,
You could carry over...
Either on the internet.
Or something you could even text.

And vogue a pose,
You could carry over...
For a paparazzi set,
To make you that 'IT' yet!

And vogue a pose,
You could carry over...
Either on the internet.
Or something you could even text.

And vogue a pose,
You could carry over...
Either on the internet.
Or something you could even text.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Only Way To Control Things

The only way to control things is with an open hand.
Water on rock
a fist can't do anything to stop the rain
that keeps washing its bloody knuckles
by kissing the raw red buds
of the pain-killing poppies clean.
Anger grows ashamed of itself
in the presence of unopposable compassion
just as planets are humbled by their atmospheres.
The soft supple things of life insist
and the hard brittle ones comply.
Bullies are the broken toys of wimps.
Power limps.
But space is an open hand.
Mass may shape it
but it teaches matter how to move
just as the sky converts its openness
into a cloud and a bird
or the silence nurtures
the embryo of a blue word
in the empty womb of the dark mother
like the echo of something that can't be said.

The only way to control things is with an open hand.
Not a posture of giving.
Not a posture of receiving.
Not a posture of greeting or farewell.
Not hanging on or letting go
but the single bridge they both make
when they're both at peace with the flow.
It's not the branch it's not the trunk
it's not the root it's not the fruit
but the open handedness of its leaves
that is a tree's consummate passion.
Isis tattoos her star on their palms
like sailors and sails
to keep them from drowning
and into the valleys of their open hands
that lie at the foot of their crook-backed mountains
the aloof stars risk the intimacy of fireflies
and fate flows down like tributaries into the mindstream
as life roots its wildflowers on both shores
as if there were no sides to the flowing
of our binary lifelines.

The only way to control things is with an open hand.
You cannot bind the knower to the knowing
as if time had to know where eternity was going
before anything could change.
X marks the spot where all maps are born

[...] Read more

poem by Patrick White
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Break Free! - Have a Ball!

Time to break free, one's cup of tea may not be to all taste,
past history's stale news, let be, haste, challenge chased, no waste!
Song bird of time migrates, sublime rewarding melody,
wide wings unfurl, from spiral twirl, soar to true rhapsody.

Time to escape, dropp nightshade drape, spring sprightly sings fresh air,
shed strings, red tape of every shape, fresh future fair prepare.
Shift key, click mouse, write waltz like Strauss, carouse in harmony,
drown frowns, don't grouse laze louse round house, spurn tale_spin gravity.

Discard hard times, from prose to rhymes switch life that pain shrugs off,
see light, delight quite free from fright, breathe out and fight rough cough!
Ignore moods poor, pain reign's downpour, sore thumb, fools dumb who bore,
far more expect, hope's scope elect, reject despond's dark core!

Time to rebound, life’s boat aground goodbye waves tidal waves,
from hurts that hound heart thought strung, bound, a clear approach now braves
life’s slings and arrows, narrow minds, discovers empathy,
that brings marshmallows, wide wings hallows, sheds self-sympathy.

From sleepy head, depressed in bed, leap up, cheered frame of mind,
misfortune's sped away, ahead, lies joy; leave lies behind.
Dread, pain vain bled, is shed instead success unbolts faults’ door,
so have a ball, reverse free fall, displace dark doubts with SURE!

Don't hedge your bets, glad sad regrets turns topsy-turvy soon,
don't sit on fence in self defence, self-confidence is boon.
Let inner fire inspire desire, suspicions set at rest,
all you require, adore, admire, won't cloy, - enjoy with zest.

From vain complain move on again, see sea’s brimfull of fish,
go take your pick as lips you lick so wickedly delish.
Look sharp! Don't carp, distress or mess up opportunities
chance offers all, go have a ball, refreshed prioritease!

If once distraught in heart or thought, trust must fuss dust displace,
move on to more - unseen before - let better bad replace.
From inner trial advance and smile, past tears, fears fast forgot,
prick cloudy pall, go have a ball and call each shot!

Hope's heart's at ease when spirit frees harp's soul from sharks, sharp spears,
DO as YOU please and by degrees all darkness disappears,
bread butters fly, sun spo[r]ts in sky, relearn to laugh a lot,
keep on the ball, leap each grey wall – bold, spurning blow cold, hot!

Link one to one, new tale begun, soon shadow shades dissolve,
don’t stumble, run! don’t cry, have fun! hands on luck’s clock revolve.
mosquito bite quite fly-by-night seems past controversy
compared to light solutions bright that crush adversity.

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Crystal Ball

Expert lover, my baby
U ever had a crystal ball?
Expert lover, my baby
U ever had a crystal ball?
Ooh, expert lover, my baby
Ever had a crystal ball?
Expert lover, my baby
U ever had a crystal ball?
As bombs explode around us and hate advances on the right
The only thing that matters, baby, is the love that we make 2night
As little babies in make-up terrorize the western world
The only thing that matters, baby, is love between a boy and girl
Oh, expert lover, my baby
U ever had a crystal ball?
Undercover, no maybe
All 4 fun and fun 4 all
I cant remember my babys voice cuz she aint talkin no more
Only the sound of love and prayer echo from the yellow floor,
Yellow floor
Huh, shes sayin c dear jesus, save us from temptation
Dear jesus, save us from hell
Save us from the madness that threatens us all
Can u hear us? its hard 2 tell
In your name we pray
Expert lover, my baby
Ever had a crystal ball?
Undercover, no maybe
All 4 fun, fun 4 all
As soldiers draw swords of sorrow
My baby draws pictures of sex (yes, she does)
All over the walls in graphic detail - sex!
Everybody say it now
Expert lover, huh, my baby
Ever had a crystal ball?
Under undercover, ha, no maybe
All 4 fun and fun 4 all
Rip it, ouch! uh
Expert lover, my baby
Ever had a crystal ball?
Uh, expert lover, my baby (my baby)
Ever had a crystal ball?
Crystal ball
Expert
My baby, my baby, my baby, my baby
Kiss me, lick me, trick me, whoa!
Oh yeah, yeah
Come on, come on, come on, wont u come on?
Expert lover, huh, my baby
Have u ever had a crystal ball?
Dont u wanna?

[...] Read more

song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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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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The Ball

What it ain't y'all?
Welcome 2 the Crystal Ball
Got any notion about the way things are? Give 'em up!
Come on y'all
(Ball) {repeats in BG}
Ooh wee! (Party!)
(Get up, come on)
All pound on the 2 y'all
Shake the weakest peach (Get off and party y'all)
If U got a weak heart, split now
We got 2 be funky
Everybody, say it
This is your Crystal Ball (Get up and party) (Yeah)
One time, say it (Ball)
(Come on, get up and get down, yeah)
Check it out if U want 2
Listen 2 a brand new sound
Peachy beat and harmony
Shake your body down
No time 4 attitudes
No, we don't wanna fight
All I wanna do is get yo' peachy stuff
And have some fun 2night ... people!
(Ball) {repeats in BG}
Ouch! (Come on) Come on, Ball
(Party) (Come on) Yeah
(Get down) Come on, come on, yeah (Ball)
Jam in the 3 y'all
Ain't no couples allowed
Unless U wanna do it right mama
And get married like a bull and cow
No time 4 attitudes (No time)
I said we don't wanna fight
All I wanna do is get pumped mama
And have some fun 2night ... people!
Ball, it's a party
Everybody get loose
Ball, shake your body
Just like a goose... goosey
(Ball) (Ball) Everybody
(Ball) (Ball) Ooh aah
Oooh wee!
Say it y'all, come on (Oooh wee!)
(Yeah, come on, get up)
(Join the party, get up, get up, yeah)
What it ain't y'all?
Welcome 2 the Crystal Ball
U got any notions about the way things are?
Give'em up and come on y'all... oh!
Any peaches in the house?

[...] Read more

song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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You Made Okay To Do It Your Way

You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.

Why did you choose to pick a ball,
Knowing picking it...
Wasn't cool to do.

You complained,
That you couldn't take the weight.
And a waiting too late makes it okay.

You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.

You made okay to do it your way,
To...
Pick then kick a ball.
To,
Pick then kick a ball.

You made okay to do it your way,
To...
Pick then kick a ball.
To,
Pick then kick a ball.

Why did you choose to pick a ball,
Knowing picking it...
Wasn't cool to do.

You made okay to do it your way,
To...
Pick then kick a ball.
To,
Pick then kick a ball.

You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.
You pick up then you kicked the ball.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Biggest Ball Of Twine In Minnesota

Well, I had two weeks of vacation time coming
After working all year down at big roys eating and plumbing
So one night when my family the I were gathered round the dinner table
I said, kids, if you could go anywhere in this great big world, now
Whered you like to go ta
They said, dad, we wanna see the biggest ball of twine in minnesota
They picked the biggest ball of twine in minnesota
So the very next day we loaded up the car
With potato skins and pickled weiners,
Crossword puzzles, spider-man comics, and mamas home made rhubarb pie
Pulled out of the driveway and the neighbors, they all waved good-bye
And so began our three day journey
We picked up a guy holding a sign that said twine ball or bust
He smelled real bad and he said his name was bernie
I put in a slim whitman tape, my wife put on a brand new hair net
Kids were in the back seat jumping up and down,
Yelling are we there yet?
And all of us were joined together in one common thought
As we rolled down the long and winding interstate in our 53 desoto
Were gonna see the biggest ball of twine in minnesota
Were headin for the biggest ball of twine in minnesota
Oh, we couldnt wait to get there
So we drove straight through for three whole days and nights
Of course, we stopped for more pickled weiners now and then
The scenery was just so pretty, boy I wish the kids couldve seen it
But you cant see out of the side of the car
Because the windows are completely covered
With the decals of all the place where weve already been
Theres elvis-o-rama, the tupperware museum,
The boll weevil monument, and cranberry world,
The shuffleboard hall of fame, poodle dog rock,
And the mecca of albino squirrels
Weve been to ghost towns, theme parks, wax museums,
And a place where you can drive through the middle of a tree
Weve seen alligator farms and tarantula ranches,
But theres still one thing we gotta see
Well, we crossed the state line about 6:39
And we saw a sign that said twine ball exit - 50 miles
Oh, the kids were so happy the started singing
99 bottles of beer on the wall for the 27th time that day
So, we pulled off the road at the last chance gas station
Got a few more pickled weiners and a diet chocolate soda
On our way to see the biggest ball of twine in minnesota
Were gonna see the biggest ball of tiwne in minnesota
Finally, at 7:37 early wednesday evening as the sun was setting
In the minnesota sky
Out in the distance, on the horizon, it appeared to me like a vision
Before my unbelieving eye
I parked the car and walked with awe-filled reverence towards that
Glorius huge majestic sphere

[...] Read more

song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pull The Wool

Dear friend you dont have to lie to me
When I ask you whats going on
Are you doin right or ya doing wrong
If you do right will there not be a lifting up
You misbehave
Sin is crouching by your grave
We can begin to make amends
Fill your sails full with wind
I know youre tossed and tempest turned, but make no mistake
Ill never sleep on you faith
Dont you pull the wool over my eyes
Dont you pull the wool over my eyes
Dont you pull the wool over my eyes
Dont you pull the wool over my eyes
Dont you pull the wool over my eyes
Now your sin, you must mask it
Your face is all riddled with guilt
Cover you like a blanket, but no warmth will it give
Now Im sittin here and cant believe all the measures youve taken
To cheat, lie and decieve me and all your friends
You got a lot a crazy things in life that you want to do in life, thats all right, but
Dont you pull the wool over my eyes
Dont you pull the wool over my eyes
Dont you pull the wool over my eyes
Dont you pull the wool over my eyes
Dont you pull the wool over my eyes
Lies in the nest enver ever let the birds get to rest
I can forgive, but I never can forget and lies in the nest never
Ever gave the birds no rest
Bricks built without straw were so weak they crumbled
To mud, just as your excuse with truth left you easily undone
Dont you run away

song performed by G. Love & Special Sauce
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Georgics

GEORGIC I

What makes the cornfield smile; beneath what star
Maecenas, it is meet to turn the sod
Or marry elm with vine; how tend the steer;
What pains for cattle-keeping, or what proof
Of patient trial serves for thrifty bees;-
Such are my themes.
O universal lights
Most glorious! ye that lead the gliding year
Along the sky, Liber and Ceres mild,
If by your bounty holpen earth once changed
Chaonian acorn for the plump wheat-ear,
And mingled with the grape, your new-found gift,
The draughts of Achelous; and ye Fauns
To rustics ever kind, come foot it, Fauns
And Dryad-maids together; your gifts I sing.
And thou, for whose delight the war-horse first
Sprang from earth's womb at thy great trident's stroke,
Neptune; and haunter of the groves, for whom
Three hundred snow-white heifers browse the brakes,
The fertile brakes of Ceos; and clothed in power,
Thy native forest and Lycean lawns,
Pan, shepherd-god, forsaking, as the love
Of thine own Maenalus constrains thee, hear
And help, O lord of Tegea! And thou, too,
Minerva, from whose hand the olive sprung;
And boy-discoverer of the curved plough;
And, bearing a young cypress root-uptorn,
Silvanus, and Gods all and Goddesses,
Who make the fields your care, both ye who nurse
The tender unsown increase, and from heaven
Shed on man's sowing the riches of your rain:
And thou, even thou, of whom we know not yet
What mansion of the skies shall hold thee soon,
Whether to watch o'er cities be thy will,
Great Caesar, and to take the earth in charge,
That so the mighty world may welcome thee
Lord of her increase, master of her times,
Binding thy mother's myrtle round thy brow,
Or as the boundless ocean's God thou come,
Sole dread of seamen, till far Thule bow
Before thee, and Tethys win thee to her son
With all her waves for dower; or as a star
Lend thy fresh beams our lagging months to cheer,
Where 'twixt the Maid and those pursuing Claws
A space is opening; see! red Scorpio's self
His arms draws in, yea, and hath left thee more
Than thy full meed of heaven: be what thou wilt-
For neither Tartarus hopes to call thee king,

[...] Read more

poem by Virgil
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Them Heavy People

Rolling the ball, rolling the ball, rolling the ball to me.
Rolling the ball, rolling the ball, rolling the ball to me.
They arrived at an inconvenient time.
I was hiding in a room in my mind.
They made me look at myself. I saw it well.
Id shut the people out of my life.
So now I take the opportunities:
Wonderful teachers ready to teach me.
I must work on my mind. for now I realise:
Everyone of us has a heaven inside.
Them heavy people hit me in a soft spot.
Them heavy people help me.
Them heavy people hit me in a soft spot.
Rolling the ball, rolling the ball, rolling the ball to me.
They open doorways that I thought were shut for good.
They read me gurdjieff and jesu.
They build up my body, break me emotionally.
Its nearly killing me, but what a lovely feeling!
I love the whirling of the dervishes.
I love the beauty of rare innocence.
You dont need no crystal ball,
Dont fall for a magic wand.
We humans got it all, we perform the miracles.
Them heavy people hit me in a soft spot.
Them heavy people help me.
Them heavy people hit me in a soft spot.
Rolling the ball, rolling the ball, rolling the ball to me.
Rolling the ball, rolling the ball, rolling the ball to me.
Rolling the ball, rolling the ball...

song performed by Kate Bush
Added by Lucian Velea
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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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The Door Of Humility

ENGLAND
We lead the blind by voice and hand,
And not by light they cannot see;
We are not framed to understand
The How and Why of such as He;

But natured only to rejoice
At every sound or sign of hope,
And, guided by the still small voice,
In patience through the darkness grope;

Until our finer sense expands,
And we exchange for holier sight
The earthly help of voice and hands,
And in His light behold the Light.

I

Let there be Light! The self-same Power
That out of formless dark and void
Endued with life's mysterious dower
Planet, and star, and asteroid;

That moved upon the waters' face,
And, breathing on them His intent,
Divided, and assigned their place
To, ocean, air, and firmament;

That bade the land appear, and bring
Forth herb and leaf, both fruit and flower,
Cattle that graze, and birds that sing,
Ordained the sunshine and the shower;

That, moulding man and woman, breathed
In them an active soul at birth
In His own image, and bequeathed
To them dominion over Earth;

That, by whatever is, decreed
His Will and Word shall be obeyed,
From loftiest star to lowliest seed;-
The worm and me He also made.

And when, for nuptials of the Spring
With Summer, on the vestal thorn
The bridal veil hung flowering,
A cry was heard, and I was born.

II

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Austin
Added by Poetry Lover
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Keepin'-Th'Big-Ball Bouncin

Caught up in the nonsense.
Keepin'-th'big-ball bouncing.

And waiting for some annoucement...
To stop that loud sound that pounds!

Caught up in the nonsense.
Keepin'-th'big-ball bouncing.

Yet hypnotized to the aspect,
Folks stay ready to pounce.
But no one moves to unload the packs,
Stacked on their backs.
Mounting are their burdens,
And some like it like that!

Caught up in the nonsense.
Keepin'-th'big-ball bouncing.

Bitten lips,
Bleeding blood.
Taking it.
With the moaning.

Sighing in their pain with pleas...
As if they seek someone to please.
And squeezing sweat from handkerchieves...
In fields they're proud to plow,
But gone!

Caught up in the nonsense.
Keepin'-th'big-ball bouncing.

With a dragging of their feet...
To feed defeat on urban streets.
And reminiscing this so easy,
As if this beat succeeds.
And it does.

A nothingness achieved...
Like this does.

Caught up in the nonsense.
Keepin'-th'big-ball bouncing.
Keepin'-th'big-ball bouncing.
Keepin'-th'big-ball bouncing.
Keepin'-th'big-ball bouncing.
Keepin'-th'big-ball bouncing.
And...
A nothingness achieved,

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Maori's Wool

The Maoris are a mighty race -- the finest ever known;
Before the missionaries came they worshipped wood and stone;
They went to war and fought like fiends, and when the war was done
They pacified their conquered foes by eating every one.
But now-a-days about the pahs in idleness they lurk,
Prepared to smoke or drink or talk -- or anything but work.
The richest tribe in all the North in sheep and horse and cow,
Were those who led their simple lives at Rooti-iti-au.

'Twas down to town at Wellington a noble Maori came,
A Rangatira of the best, Rerenga was his name --
(The word Rerenga means a "snag" -- but until he was gone
This didn't strike the folk he met -- it struck them later on).
He stalked into the Bank they call the "Great Financial Hell",
And told the Chief Financial Fiend the tribe had wool to sell.
The Bold Bank Manager looked grave -- the price of wool was high.
He said, "We'll lend you what you need -- we're not disposed to buy.

"You ship the wool to England, Chief! -- You'll find it's good advice,
And meanwhile you can draw from us the local market price."
The Chief he thanked them courteously and said he wished to state
In all the Rooti-iti tribe his mana would be freat,
But still the tribe were simple folk, and did not understand
This strange finance that gave them cash without the wool in hand.
So off he started home again, with trouble on his brow,
To lay the case before the tribe at Rooti-iti-au.

They held a great korero in the Rooti-iti clan,
With speeches lasting half a day from every leading man.
They called themselves poetic names -- "lost children in a wood";
They said the Great Bank Manager was Kapai -- extra good!
And so they sent Rerenga down, full-powered and well-equipped,
To draw as much as he could get, and let the wool be shipped;
And wedged into a "Cargo Tank", full up from stern to bow,
A mighty clip of wool went Home from Rooti-iti-au.

It was the Bold Bank Manager who drew a heavy cheque;
Rerenga cashed it thoughtfully, then clasped him round the neck;
A hug from him was not at all a thing you'd call a lark --
You see he lived on mutton-birds and dried remains of shark --
But still it showed his gratitude; and, as he pouched the pelf,
"I'll haka for you, sir," he said, "in honour of yourself!"
The haka is a striking dance -- the sort they don't allow
In any place more civilized than Rooti-iti-au.

He "haka'd" most effectively -- then, with an airy grace,
Rubbed noses with the Manager, and vanished into space.
But when the wool return came back, ah me, what sighs and groans!
For every bale of Maori wool was loaded up with stones!
Yes -- thumping great New Zealand rocks among the wool they found;

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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One Meat Ball

(l. singer-h.zaret)
The little man walked up and down
To find an eating place in town
He read the menu through and through
To see what fifteen cents could do
One meat ball, one meat ball
Well, he could afford but one meat ball
He told the waiter near at hand
A simple dinner he had planned
The guests were startled one and all to hear
That waiter loudly call
One meat ball, one meat ball
Well, this here gent wants one meat ball
Little man felt very bad
One meat ball was all he had
And in his dreams he hears that call
Ya gets no bread with one meat ball
One meat ball, one meat ball
Well, you get no bread with one meat ball
Well, he could afford but one meat ball
One meat ball, one meat ball
All he could afford was one meat ball
One meat ball

song performed by Ry Cooder
Added by Lucian Velea
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High Fashion

I know a sexy little girl
She's never in the low class world
This woman is all the way vogue
High Fashion is where her money goes
She dines at Le Dome up on the strip
Cheap liquor never touches her lips
Her brandy's imported every week
No problem, 7,000 easy
High Fashion is where her money goes
High Fashion - This girl is all the way vogue
She's never in the low class world
High Fashion - Stuck up little rich girl
High Fashion
High Fashion, yeah
I met her dancin' at Le Dome
I offered dinner at my home
She said no, all of her friends laughed
Funny how the laughin' stopped when I flashed all the cash I had
(I'm talkin') $1900 is 2 much cash 2 hold
One of my boys had 2 carry half, now honey U know that's bold
Wait a minute
She had the nerve 2 ask what kinda car I had
"Honey, I'm ridin' in back of a Rolls Royce limo custom-painted plaid!"
High Fashion is where my money goes
High Fashion - Honey, I'm all the way vogue
I'm never in the low class world
High Fashion - And I just love little rich girls
(High Fashion) High Fashion (High Fashion)
Hot Station - I took the child 2 my crib
Donation - Do U take or do U give?
She took one look at the swimmin' pool
I said "I'll donate" - We were 2 swimmin' fools
High Fashion is where our money goes
High Fashion - All the way vogue
We're never in the low class world
High Fashion - Don't be a little stuck up rich girl
All the way vogue {x2}
I'm all the way vogue
Yeah, yeah
(High Fashion) {repeats in BG}
Dinner at Le Dome
Little girl
Money man
I'm the money man
Money man {x2}
High Fashion {x4}
Ohhhhh
(High Fashion) {x2

song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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