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Off To Bangkok

off to bangkok
then to kuala lumpur
back to shanghai
on to Ho Chi Minh
proceed to Jakarta
and stop over
in Kota Kinabalu
we end up in Cebu
then have a
week of white sands
and blue sea and
clear white skies
in the island of Boracay

summer has come
i leave all sadness behind
and with you my love
how can i be so alone?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Chan Hitchhikes To Shanghai

Chan goes to shanghai,
Chan hitchhikes to shanghai,
Chan goes to shanghai,
Chan hitchhikes to shanghai,
Chan goes to shanghai,
Chan hitchhikes to shanghai,
He took a trip to see his mother,
And she was sick, how he got over, he took pride in everything he did,
Never had a harsh word?
Chan goes to shanghai,
Chan hitchhikes to shanghai,
Chan goes to shanghai,
Chan hitchhikes to shanghai,
Works on the snow, works in the wind,
How does he travel? whos with him?
Didnt think chan had a family,
Grew accustomed to a symphony, chan held on to his mystery,
Chan, whaty doin man?
Say chan, I wrote this song about you man,
It goes, chan goes to shanghai,
Chan hitchhikes to shanghai,
Chan goes to shanghai,
Chan hitchhikes to shanghai,
Chan goes to shanghai,
Miss his cooking, sense of humour,
Miss his timing, his discipline, wee all miss chan but we cant advoid,
Now theres an empty space (? ),
Goin to give to leave his job,
Hes the only man, I wrote this song,
Hey, chan, whaty doin man?
Say chan, I wrote this song about you man,
It goes, chan goes to shanghai,
Chan hitchhikes to shanghai,
Chan goes to shanghai,
Chan hitchhikes to shanghai,
Hitchhikes, hitchhikes,
To shanghai, hitchhikes, to shanghai,
Chan,
Chan goes to shanghai,
Chan hitchhikes to shanghai,
Chan goes to shanghai,
Chan hitchhikes to shanghai,
Chan goes to shanghai,
Chan hitchhikes to shanghai,
Chan goes to shanghai,
Chan hitchhikes to shanghai,
Chan, hitchhikes, oh chan, anyway you can
Ha, come back chan, come back chan,
Shanghai chan,
Shanghai chan,

[...] Read more

song performed by Grace Jones
Added by Lucian Velea
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Allegany Camp

amazing grace circus camp
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[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Veterinary Camps

vocal music camps michigan
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[...] Read more

poem by Caasder Fronds
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Twin State

university of chicago summer basketball
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[...] Read more

poem by Caasder Fronds
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Using Boot Camp

twink boot camp
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[...] Read more

poem by Caasder Fronds
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University Of Central Florida Volleyball

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poem by Caasder Fronds
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Pom-pom Play Girl

Rah rah pom pom play girl
Pom pom play girl
(oooooo)
You see her in a short skirt down on the grass
Shes wonderin if the teams gonna run kick or pass
(chi chi bah oooooo)
Since she doesnt really know why shes wavin her hands
Shes a-thinking bout the boy sittin up in the stands
Rah rah pom pom play girl
Pom pom play girl
(chi chi bah)
Just a little social clique with the other song queens
With a freshman or a sophomore she wouldnt be seen
(chi chi bah oooooo)
Shes a doll and she knows it and she thinks that her face
Will get her any body any thing and any place
Rah rah pom pom play girl
Pom pom play girl
Oooooo
Chi chi bah
(oooooo)
Since shes the head cheerleader she dates the quarterback
And her best friends going out with the full back
(chi chi bah oooooo)
She might even run for an office this spring
And that ought to really make her telephone ring
Rah rah pom pom play girl
Pom pom play girl
(chi chi bah pom pom play girl)
Wooooo
(chi chi bah pom pom play girl)
Wooo
(chi chi bah pom pom play girl)
Shake it
(chi chi bah pom pom play girl)
Wave those pom poms all around
(chi chi bah pom pom play girl)
(chi chi bah pom pom play girl)
(chi chi bah pom pom play girl)
Wow
(chi chi bah pom pom play girl)
Wow
(chi chi bah pom pom play girl)

song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Per Una Delusione In Pi

Funky il gallo, come sono bello stamattina
non c'e' piu' la mia morosa
e sono piu' leggero di una piuma
oh e intanto Zio Rufus sta
coi suoi pensieri in testa
portando in giro la vita a fare la pipi'
X colpa di chi chi chi chi chichichirichi
stanotte voglio stare acceso
e dire sempre di si
X colpa di chi chi chi chi chichichirichi
I'm a hootchiee cootchiee man,
hootchiee cootchiee man yeah
(yeah it's rolling!)
Funky gallo, come sono in ballo questa sera
ho voglia di sudare e sono piu' goloso di una mela
oh avanti o popolo con la chitarra rossa
che in tanto il tempo passa e lei non torna piu'
X colpa di chi chi chi chi chichichirichi
stanotte voglio stare acceso
e dire sempre di si
X colpa di chi chi chi chi chichichirichi
I'm a hootchiee cootchiee man,
hootchiee cootchiee man yeah
tieni il tempo
non ho tempo
I WANNA DANCE ALL NIGHT
il sentimento
e' troppo denso
I WANNA DANCE ALL NIGHT
Funky gallo, coi pensieri sconci nelle dita
forse sono in fallo, ma mi piace molto Madre Rita
oh avanti o popolo con la lambretta rossa
che intanto il tempo passa e lei non torna piu'
X colpa di chi chi chi chi chichichirichi
stanotte voglio stare acceso
e dire sempre di si
X colpa di chi chi chi chi chichichirichi
I'm a hootchiee cootchiee man,
hootchiee cootchiee man yeah
tieni il tempo
non ho tempo
I WANNA DANCE ALL NIGHT
il sentimento
e' troppo denso
I WANNA DANCE ALL NIGHT
tieni il tempo
(che) non ho tempo
I WANNA DANCE ALL NIGHT
sono in fiamme
le mie donne

[...] Read more

song performed by Zucchero
Added by Lucian Velea
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Per Colpa Di Chi?

Funky il gallo, come sono bello stamattina
non c'e' piu' la mia morosa
e sono piu' leggero di una piuma
oh e intanto Zio Rufus sta
coi suoi pensieri in testa
portando in giro la vita a fare la pipi'
X colpa di chi chi chi chi chichichirichi
stanotte voglio stare acceso
e dire sempre di si
X colpa di chi chi chi chi chichichirichi
I'm a hootchiee cootchiee man,
hootchiee cootchiee man yeah
(yeah it's rolling!)
Funky gallo, come sono in ballo questa sera
ho voglia di sudare e sono piu' goloso di una mela
oh avanti o popolo con la chitarra rossa
che in tanto il tempo passa e lei non torna piu'
X colpa di chi chi chi chi chichichirichi
stanotte voglio stare acceso
e dire sempre di si
X colpa di chi chi chi chi chichichirichi
I'm a hootchiee cootchiee man,
hootchiee cootchiee man yeah
tieni il tempo
non ho tempo
I WANNA DANCE ALL NIGHT
il sentimento
e' troppo denso
I WANNA DANCE ALL NIGHT
Funky gallo, coi pensieri sconci nelle dita
forse sono in fallo, ma mi piace molto Madre Rita
oh avanti o popolo con la lambretta rossa
che intanto il tempo passa e lei non torna piu'
X colpa di chi chi chi chi chichichirichi
stanotte voglio stare acceso
e dire sempre di si
X colpa di chi chi chi chi chichichirichi
I'm a hootchiee cootchiee man,
hootchiee cootchiee man yeah
tieni il tempo
non ho tempo
I WANNA DANCE ALL NIGHT
il sentimento
e' troppo denso
I WANNA DANCE ALL NIGHT
tieni il tempo
(che) non ho tempo
I WANNA DANCE ALL NIGHT
sono in fiamme
le mie donne

[...] Read more

song performed by Zucchero
Added by Lucian Velea
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Gioconda And Si-Ya-U

to the memory of my friend SI-YA-U,
whose head was cut off in Shanghai

A CLAIM

Renowned Leonardo's
world-famous
"La Gioconda"
has disappeared.
And in the space
vacated by the fugitive
a copy has been placed.

The poet inscribing
the present treatise
knows more than a little
about the fate
of the real Gioconda.
She fell in love
with a seductive
graceful youth:
a honey-tongued
almond-eyed Chinese
named SI-YA-U.
Gioconda ran off
after her lover;
Gioconda was burned
in a Chinese city.

I, Nazim Hikmet,
authority
on this matter,
thumbing my nose at friend and foe
five times a day,
undaunted,
claim
I can prove it;
if I can't,
I'll be ruined and banished
forever from the realm of poesy.

1928

Part One
Excerpts from Gioconda's Diary

15 March 1924: Paris, Louvre Museum

At last I am bored with the Louvre Museum.

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poem by Nazim Hikmet
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Tu Che Ne Sai

(pallavicini / amurri / f pisano)
Tu che ne sai
Delle volte che ho pianto per te
Un amore non pu? venir quando un amor ? cos? non dirmi pi? di rifarmi una vita sei tu
Questa sera mi fai morir
Mi fai morir di dolor
What do you know
About the times Ive cried over you?
There cant be love when its a love like this
Stop telling me to start a new life - its you
This evening you are killing me
Making me die of pain
A chi dar? le mie lacrime, yeah
A chi dar? le mie lacrime
Chi le vorr? le mie lacrime chi le vorr?
Who will I give my tears to? , yeah
Who will I give my tears to?
Who will want my tears, who will want them?
Non hai capito
Mi stai lasciando
E proprio quando, quando
Ho bisogno di te di te
You dont understand
Youre leaving me
Just when, just when
I need you, you
Ma tu che ne sai
Delle volte che ho pianto per te
Ora va non ti voglio pi? tu che ne sai del mio amor
But what do you know
About the times Ive cried over you?
Now go, I dont want you anymore
What do you know about my love?
A chi dar? le mie lacrime, yeah
A chi dar? le mie lacrime
Chi le vorr? le mie lacrime chi le vorr?
Ma chi le vorr? ma chi le vorr?
Who will I give my tears to? , yeah
Who will I give my tears to?
Who will want my tears, who will want them?
Who will want them?
Who will want them?
A chi dar? le mie lacrime, yeah
A chi dar? le mie lacrime, yeah
Chi le vorr? le mie lacrime chi le vorr?
Ma chi le vorr? yeah
Ma chi le vorr? ma chi le vorr? ma chi le vorr? yeah
Ma chi le vorr?
Ma chi le vorr? yeah
Ma chi le vorr? yeah

[...] Read more

song performed by Dusty Springfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Dream

'TWAS summer eve; the changeful beams still play'd
On the fir-bark and through the beechen shade;
Still with soft crimson glow'd each floating cloud;
Still the stream glitter'd where the willow bow'd;
Still the pale moon sate silent and alone,
Nor yet the stars had rallied round her throne;
Those diamond courtiers, who, while yet the West
Wears the red shield above his dying breast,
Dare not assume the loss they all desire,
Nor pay their homage to the fainter fire,
But wait in trembling till the Sun's fair light
Fading, shall leave them free to welcome Night!

So when some Chief, whose name through realms afar
Was still the watchword of succesful war,
Met by the fatal hour which waits for all,
Is, on the field he rallied, forced to fall,
The conquerors pause to watch his parting breath,
Awed by the terrors of that mighty death;
Nor dare the meed of victory to claim,
Nor lift the standard to a meaner name,
Till every spark of soul hath ebb'd away,
And leaves what was a hero, common clay.

Oh! Twilight! Spirit that dost render birth
To dim enchantments; melting Heaven with Earth,
Leaving on craggy hills and rumning streams
A softness like the atmosphere of dreams;
Thy hour to all is welcome! Faint and sweet
Thy light falls round the peasant's homeward feet,
Who, slow returning from his task of toil,
Sees the low sunset gild the cultured soil,
And, tho' such radliance round him brightly glows,
Marks the small spark his cottage window throws.
Still as his heart forestals his weary pace,
Fondly he dreams of each familiar face,
Recalls the treasures of his narrow life,
His rosy children, and his sunburnt wife,

To whom his coming is the chief event
Of simple days in cheerful labour spent.
The rich man's chariot hath gone whirling past,
And those poor cottagers have only cast
One careless glance on all that show of pride,
Then to their tasks turn'd quietly aside;
But him they wait for, him they welcome home,
Fond sentinels look forth to see him come;
The fagot sent for when the fire grew dim,
The frugal meal prepared, are all for him;
For him the watching of that sturdy boy,

[...] Read more

poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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C'e Chi Dice No

C' qualcosa che non va
In questo cielo
C' qualcuno che non sa
Pi che ore sono
C' chi dice qua, c' chi dice la
Io non mi muovo
C' chi dice la, c' chi dice qua
Io non ci sono
Tanta gente convinta che ci sia nell'aldil
Qualche cosa chiss
Quanta gente comunque ci sar
Che si accontenter
C' qualcuno che non sa
Pi cosa un uomo
C' qualcuno che non ha
Rispetto per nessuno
C' chi dice no, c' chi dice no
Io non ci sono
C' chi dice no, c' chi dice no
Io non mi muovo
Tanta gente convinta che ci sia nell''aldil
Chiss cosa e chiss
Quanta gente comunque ci sar
Che si accontenter
C' chi dice no, c' chi dice no
Io non mi muovo
C' chi dice no, c' chi dice no
Io non ci sono
C' chi dice no, c' chi dice no
Io non ci credo
C' chi dice no, c' chi dice no
Io sono un uomo
C' chi dice no, c' chi dice no

song performed by Vasco Rossi
Added by Lucian Velea
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Synergy of Love

'Were you honed from poetry? '
I asked your saddened smile.
For it seems to tell a longing tale -
One of words in oratory
That speaks in languid metaphors
From lips of mind in deep despair
And solitude from inner wars
That over time has rendered life so frail.

'Were you carved from doleful prose? '
I sought to ask your gaze,
For a pain lies deep within your eyes -
One of barren territory
Where no fair heart could ever drift
And hope to venture back content
With grateful memories in a gift -
A land of your affectional demise.

'Do I hear a mournful hum? '
I wondered of your cry,
For it sings a song of deep lament -
One of quiet soliloquy
Recited on deserted strands
To waves that have no sense of song
And only wish to fight the sands -
A chant that cites emotional descent.

Do you know your face portrays
The colours of your soul?
It tells me at a single glance
Of how you burned your furnace whole
To stay the fire in our romance.

And see the prismic hues they bore!
I cherished all I ever saw:
Mauve of mystic; browns of rustic;
Reddened tones to match your blush;
Marine of passion, spending out your being,
Leaving you for ashen embers, fleeing
The dying light in hush of night.
And how you lay there empty.

So let me help re-grow the flowers
Once erect in fiery showers!
For now I've seen what love can do
When torn asunder - oh my catastrophic blunder!

But we must realise -
Our flaming want is meant to be!
We are the ocean and the sea;

[...] Read more

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Ballad of the White Horse

DEDICATION

Of great limbs gone to chaos,
A great face turned to night--
Why bend above a shapeless shroud
Seeking in such archaic cloud
Sight of strong lords and light?

Where seven sunken Englands
Lie buried one by one,
Why should one idle spade, I wonder,
Shake up the dust of thanes like thunder
To smoke and choke the sun?

In cloud of clay so cast to heaven
What shape shall man discern?
These lords may light the mystery
Of mastery or victory,
And these ride high in history,
But these shall not return.

Gored on the Norman gonfalon
The Golden Dragon died:
We shall not wake with ballad strings
The good time of the smaller things,
We shall not see the holy kings
Ride down by Severn side.

Stiff, strange, and quaintly coloured
As the broidery of Bayeux
The England of that dawn remains,
And this of Alfred and the Danes
Seems like the tales a whole tribe feigns
Too English to be true.

Of a good king on an island
That ruled once on a time;
And as he walked by an apple tree
There came green devils out of the sea
With sea-plants trailing heavily
And tracks of opal slime.

Yet Alfred is no fairy tale;
His days as our days ran,
He also looked forth for an hour
On peopled plains and skies that lower,
From those few windows in the tower
That is the head of a man.

But who shall look from Alfred's hood

[...] Read more

poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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Forsaking My Love

I hate you
I wish to tear you away from me
This tumor that clings to my chest
The thing that makes me ache
That haunts my dreams
And tears at my desires
You have brought me only pain
My untamed heart
That beast that gnaws at my soul
That pitifully whines
Bringing my mind into unwanted pain
Yet how can I blame you
How can I chastise you when I listen intently to your pleas
Why should I punish you for what my eyes feed upon
How can I blame my eyes for falling upon her
She who brings light to the eternal darkness of my soul
She whose eyes bring me to subjection
Whose smile leaves me in awe
How can I blame you when my ears are met with her laughter
How they submerge into her song
How they quiver at her voice
Why should I punish you for inclining my soul
Tempting it with the one sense that has been forsaken by her
How could I look over the thought of the brushing of lips
The touching of hands
The binding of the soul, mind, and body
O you wretched heart
What am I to do with this constant companion
How could I tear you away
When she is the cause of my agony
Or rather
It is the lack of her which brings me sorrow
It is the need for her that leaves my heart in pain
Yet she is not mine
She was never mine
She will never be mine
O my poor heart
How can I make you see reason
When all you do is show me the truth

love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love
love love love love love love love

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poem by Michael Silver
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Canto the Second

I
Oh ye! who teach the ingenuous youth of nations,
Holland, France, England, Germany, or Spain,
I pray ye flog them upon all occasions,
It mends their morals, never mind the pain:
The best of mothers and of educations
In Juan's case were but employ'd in vain,
Since, in a way that's rather of the oddest, he
Became divested of his native modesty.

II
Had he but been placed at a public school,
In the third form, or even in the fourth,
His daily task had kept his fancy cool,
At least, had he been nurtured in the north;
Spain may prove an exception to the rule,
But then exceptions always prove its worth -—
A lad of sixteen causing a divorce
Puzzled his tutors very much, of course.

III
I can't say that it puzzles me at all,
If all things be consider'd: first, there was
His lady-mother, mathematical,
A—never mind; his tutor, an old ass;
A pretty woman (that's quite natural,
Or else the thing had hardly come to pass);
A husband rather old, not much in unity
With his young wife—a time, and opportunity.

IV
Well—well, the world must turn upon its axis,
And all mankind turn with it, heads or tails,
And live and die, make love and pay our taxes,
And as the veering wind shifts, shift our sails;
The king commands us, and the doctor quacks us,
The priest instructs, and so our life exhales,
A little breath, love, wine, ambition, fame,
Fighting, devotion, dust,—perhaps a name.

V
I said that Juan had been sent to Cadiz -—
A pretty town, I recollect it well -—
'T is there the mart of the colonial trade is
(Or was, before Peru learn'd to rebel),
And such sweet girls—I mean, such graceful ladies,
Their very walk would make your bosom swell;
I can't describe it, though so much it strike,
Nor liken it—I never saw the like:

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poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
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Narrative And Dramatic The Wanderings Of Oisin

BOOK I

S. Patrick. You who are bent, and bald, and blind,
With a heavy heart and a wandering mind,
Have known three centuries, poets sing,
Of dalliance with a demon thing.

Oisin. Sad to remember, sick with years,
The swift innumerable spears,
The horsemen with their floating hair,
And bowls of barley, honey, and wine,
Those merry couples dancing in tune,
And the white body that lay by mine;
But the tale, though words be lighter than air.
Must live to be old like the wandering moon.

Caoilte, and Conan, and Finn were there,
When we followed a deer with our baying hounds.
With Bran, Sceolan, and Lomair,
And passing the Firbolgs' burial-motmds,
Came to the cairn-heaped grassy hill
Where passionate Maeve is stony-still;
And found On the dove-grey edge of the sea
A pearl-pale, high-born lady, who rode
On a horse with bridle of findrinny;
And like a sunset were her lips,
A stormy sunset on doomed ships;
A citron colour gloomed in her hair,

But down to her feet white vesture flowed,
And with the glimmering crimson glowed
Of many a figured embroidery;
And it was bound with a pearl-pale shell
That wavered like the summer streams,
As her soft bosom rose and fell.

S. Patrick. You are still wrecked among heathen dreams.

Oisin. 'Why do you wind no horn?' she said
'And every hero droop his head?
The hornless deer is not more sad
That many a peaceful moment had,
More sleek than any granary mouse,
In his own leafy forest house
Among the waving fields of fern:
The hunting of heroes should be glad.'

'O pleasant woman,' answered Finn,
'We think on Oscar's pencilled urn,
And on the heroes lying slain

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poem by William Butler Yeats
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Tamar

I
A night the half-moon was like a dancing-girl,
No, like a drunkard's last half-dollar
Shoved on the polished bar of the eastern hill-range,
Young Cauldwell rode his pony along the sea-cliff;
When she stopped, spurred; when she trembled, drove
The teeth of the little jagged wheels so deep
They tasted blood; the mare with four slim hooves
On a foot of ground pivoted like a top,
Jumped from the crumble of sod, went down, caught, slipped;
Then, the quick frenzy finished, stiffening herself
Slid with her drunken rider down the ledges,
Shot from sheer rock and broke
Her life out on the rounded tidal boulders.

The night you know accepted with no show of emotion the little
accident; grave Orion
Moved northwest from the naked shore, the moon moved to
meridian, the slow pulse of the ocean
Beat, the slow tide came in across the slippery stones; it drowned
the dead mare's muzzle and sluggishly
Felt for the rider; Cauldwell’s sleepy soul came back from the
blind course curious to know
What sea-cold fingers tapped the walls of its deserted ruin.
Pain, pain and faintness, crushing
Weights, and a vain desire to vomit, and soon again
die icy fingers, they had crept over the loose hand and lay in the
hair now. He rolled sidewise
Against mountains of weight and for another half-hour lay still.
With a gush of liquid noises
The wave covered him head and all, his body
Crawled without consciousness and like a creature with no bones,
a seaworm, lifted its face
Above the sea-wrack of a stone; then a white twilight grew about
the moon, and above
The ancient water, the everlasting repetition of the dawn. You
shipwrecked horseman
So many and still so many and now for you the last. But when it
grew daylight
He grew quite conscious; broken ends of bone ground on each
other among the working fibers
While by half-inches he was drawing himself out of the seawrack
up to sandy granite,
Out of the tide's path. Where the thin ledge tailed into flat cliff
he fell asleep. . . .
Far seaward
The daylight moon hung like a slip of cloud against the horizon.
The tide was ebbing
From the dead horse and the black belt of sea-growth. Cauldwell
seemed to have felt her crying beside him,

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poem by Robinson Jeffers
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The House Of Dust: Complete

I.

The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.

And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.

'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.

We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .

Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.

Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.

Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.

II.

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poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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