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Seeking God

God desires us to faithfully love and seek Him out
To pray and discover His Divine Will.
The wicked and the selfish never find God
For they depend on self to provide and fulfill.

'Those who diligently seek me will find me.'
For God is just and only does what's right.
He blesses us despite our sins of the past
As we seek His forgiveness by day or night.

God controls everything we love, need and desire
He cares too much to let us get away with sin.
We must live our lives in total submission
And by watching His works, we begin!

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Lenexa Babtist Church

FAITH

Through faith, love, prayer and compliance we can succeed
Overcoming the demands and falsehoods of strife.
We must dedicate our deeds to love, honor and defend
Our faith, our family, country and values of life.

We must sing of God's power, love and forgiveness
How He is both Father of Heaven and Earth.
Broadcasting our need to submit to His will
So we may improve our attitude and worth.

Allow us to disciple whomever we can
So they may impact the hearts and minds of others.
Bless us with stories which inspire dedication
To bolster the faith of our sisters and brothers.

We don't have to be a pastor or priest, just Christian
To be chosen, "Mailman For The Lord."
He gives us verse which elevates and renews
Our tribute for blessings we could never afford.

GOD'S BLESSING OF LOVE

Where would we be without God's blessing of love
Lonely, miserable, desperate and sad.
Love provides purpose for both body and soul
And gives reason to be thankful and glad.

Love teaches trust, fear, honor and respect
For all we wish to retain and not lose.
The choices we make can last a lifetime
So we must stay cautious of what we choose.

Everyone needs love for its impact and fulfillment
No love breeds desperation, disappointment and tears.
As love transforms how we think, act and respond
We validate our feelings by our fears.

SEEKING GOD

God desires us to faithfully love and seek Him out
To pray and discover His Divine Will.
The wicked and the selfish never find God
For they depend on self to provide and fulfill.

'Those who diligently seek me will find me.'
For God is just and only does what's right.
He blesses us despite our sins of the past
As we seek His forgiveness by day or night.

God controls everything we love, need and desire
He cares too much to let us get away with sin.
We must live our lives in total submission
And by watching His works, we begin!

GOD'S POET TOM ZART

The Lord can close doors no man can open
And open doors no man can close.
It's up to us to prove our heavenly worth
By our lifetime example of the path we chose.


Tom's 462 Poems Are Free To Share!
By God's Poet
Tom Zart
Most Published Poet
On The Web!

To Listen To Tom Zart's Poems Go To =
http: //new.pivtr.com/en/schedule/tom-zart/
www.bill crain.net/musicpage.htm
http: //www.veteranstodayforum.com/viewforum.php? f=38

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I have a huge and savage conscience that won't let me get away with things.

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Patrick White

O Sweet Freedom

O sweet freedom to be nothing for awhile.
To blindfold the clock
with its own shadow
like a masked bandit
and let it get away with something for a change.
I love the cheap thrill
of feeling like a thief
with an ageless sense of timing.
One tug on my serpentine spinal cord
and I unplug my electric identity
like a searchlight
that keeps its eye on me
like a blackhole it doesn't know anything about.
I've stopped looking for meaning
in the flight of the doves
I release from their cages
like words stuck in the throats
of Selkirk chimneys
like harps and hearts and wishbones.
The joy of a liberated dove
I'm out!
seems to be enough of a rapture
to give meaning to the spontaneous outburst
of an enlightened universe
as if it had just broken through
to the other side
of its own koan
like an iron cosmic egg.
Like a Rinzai master shouting Katsu!
and throwing down his horse-hair hossu.
Like me sitting here
in the middle of a small heritage town
without feeling I'm one of the original fieldstones
of the bank across the street.
O the sweet freedom
to let the waters of life
take great liberties with my roots
to let whatever flowers in the wild starfields
hidden in the white darkness of noon
bloom as they will
and whatever comes to fruition fall
like the stroke of midnight
beheading the clock on the wall
so Cinderella
doesn't have to hurry home from the ball.
Not to be.
Not to see.
Not to do anything
that wasn't already done in the first place
and all the bonds that baffled the dawn
with too many horizons to overcome
undo themselves like vapour trails in the sunset
and I'm as free as space
to be ubiquitiously anywhere at once.
I don't need to eat through the bone of one leg
caught in a trapline
to free the other.
I don't have to go mad
trying to kill myself
to save myself from death.
I don't have to be shamed by mirrors
that bear false witness
against my own reflection.
I can look at my own face
and casually ruminate
about whether it matters
that either of us is here or not.
I can be lead astray by poems
that come on like gold rushs
but end in lead
like the philosopher's stone
and still be intrigued by the passion
of getting there
without worrying about
finding my way back alone.
Inside every man of great renown
is a frustrated clown
that takes him far too seriously.
I have laboured like an ox
to keep grinding out starwheat
on the millstone of the daily grind
but comes a time
when you sit down on the ground
among the grain and the chaff
exhausted by your fruitless attempt
to turn your mind
into loaves and fishs for the multitudes
and have a good laugh
at your own expense
when you see how few people
are truly hungry enough to eat.
How many are dying of thirst
beside a freshwater lake.
Open your mouth and eat.
Roll over and drink.
And go read Eccclesiastes
if you want to know why.
Mithras Tauroctonus the bull-killer
can put all the horns on the silo he wants
like the first and last crescents of the cornucopias
on a harvest moon.
I'm at large in the zodiac
playing with poppies
as if I were slaying matadors
that flare like scarlet capes in my blood.
Moon.
One.
Sun.
Nothing.
The thistle bristles with swords.
Van Gogh cuts off his own ear
and gives it to a brothel rose
as if that were the only way she could hear
his endearing words
as if that little gesture of the heart
were the beginning of expressionist art
or the artist as mummy
if you stretch your canvases like bandages
and mistaking yourself for a model
paint with them on
to keep your blood
from running into the colours
like a red sky in the morning
that doesn't give you any warning
though Gaugin was sailor enough to know that
and beat a hasty retreat back to Tahiti.
O sweet freedom
not to have to whitewash
the truth of the graffiti under the bridge
with the genocidal lies of scripture
that paint in blood
with the same brush
they use to sweep whole nations
under the rug.
I kick the empty spraycan of my heart
down the road
like the hollow shell casing
of a losing revolution.
In order to establish
my vision of life
I had to overthrow my eyes
to justify the way I see things.
Been alone so long
it looks like love to me.
I don't know how else to explain this
to the winners who doubt my word
except I'm a loser in bliss
for reasons you'd find absurd.
Not to have slammed the door in my face
just as it was opening
would have been a complete and utter disgrace
to the people who were waiting to be impressed.
My future's just another afterlife
that hasn't been made aware
of my arrival.
Still I have a lot more fun
getting around as a pauper
than I ever did a prince.
I have no interest at all
at dying in line
to inherit a dead man's office.
I've learned to get along
on my insufficiency just fine
by mimicking the appetites
of a self-exiled poetic refugee
with the aristocratic poverty
of an intellectual past
and the emotional life
of the last dynast of my homeless ancestors
none of whom made it this far.
O sweet freedom
not to be related to anything
like the key to someone's heart
lying in the grass at the side of a road
that no one's taken in years.
You can answer the call.
You can respond to a summons.
But my calling's
the falling of mirrors
that have run out of tears
like doorbells
that don't cry hard enough to be sincere.
Some I smash like a pinata.
Al Capone with a baseball bat.
And others come crashing down like chandeliers
that thought they were better organized
than what appeared to be
a minor uprising
of disordered angry stars.
I take a broom to the cobwebs of the constellations
and sweep their reflections
like bad imitations
of outmoded myths
from the mirror.
I like to keep things clear
between me and the light
so there's no duplicity in what I see
and no darkness in the night
that can claim to be the ancient shadow
of my spontaneous lucidity
without cooking their fire-bug phoenix
in its own flames.
The fire god comes looking for fire.
But I don't spend much time
dwelling on the event
like a fire-hydrant in a cathedral
afraid of falling into hell.
I've fallen down hilariously drunk
sipping mystic elixirs
from my own skull
as if it were the holy grail
but I've never gotten off on
drinking from a bell
that keeps pouring me out on the ground
like bad wine
that didn't turn into sacred blood.
O sweet freedom
what a treat
not to meet me in my solitude.
Not to lead people
like a starmap
that puts them on the wrong track
so they can learn their own way back
through all the labyrinths and lightyears
they've been away
and though they might recognize
the old place as home
it's not the same threshold,
the doors don't answer
to their names anymore
and the windows have forgotten their faces
like phases of the moon
that bloomed and passed
like warm breath on cold glass.
I have looked at the stars
and sweetened the night air with wonder
that we both collaborate
in exploring the mystery of our being here
without knowing why.
The question longs
to experience the answer
the way a dancer longs for music
to go with the words
or a painter tries to explain the light
to his eyes.
But not two is the closest anyone can get
to knowing the world from the inside out
and the silence is polyglot
not a universal language
and what it can't define
it expresses.
Seeing paints its own eyes
on the prow of a lifeboat
that's been washed out to sea
with nobody in it
and nothing to save
but these endless waves of moonlight
swimming through stone
like ancient hieroglyphs
for water and fish
adrift in a desert of stars.
The intimate personal history
of the mystery in each one of us
the way the same moon
is cherished by every rosary
and millions of lockets of dew
as if it could only be known by you alone
like the absence of a lover far away
that brings you closer together.
Seeing doesn't belong to the eye
anymore than a house belongs to the hammer
that built it
or the mind
to the starmud foundation stone of the brain
that laid it like a cosmic egg
in a phoenix' nest.
There's more to insight than meets the eye.
O sweet freedom
even one of your mirages
is more than enough
to appease the lightning with fireflies.
My feelings have never looked for sanctuary
in a safe heart
because the best place to hide
is out in the open
where the sea doesn't run from its own weather
and the night isn't overwhelmed
by a riot of stars
smashing every telescopic lens in sight
like the priest of a false god
with only one eye.
O sweet freedom
to be the only rodeo clown
in the annual funeral march of martyred icons
parading down Gore Street
with a police escort
and red lights screaming
like an ambulance
going through withdrawal
trying to overcome its addiction to poppies.
I breathe time
and burn my fingers in the eternal flame
of my blood playing with a fire it couldn't put out.
God might not love me yet
not recognizing the genius
of her own work
but that doesn't mean
I'm any less of a masterpiece
than any of these other jerks
or that I don't know how
to conduct myself accordingly.
It's just that you won't find me
hanging out in a gallery
or behind the cover of a book
with my shirt off
as if that were really
all I had to say.
It's not a sign of true freedom
if your zodiac is still under house arrest.
Or you're still sending
that old refrain of madness to school
to learn to sing in the dulcet tones of a lucid voice
on pheaobarbitol.
Success is the quickest way to underwhelm yourself.
Ripeness kicks the stool from under the apple.
Failure has more enduring effects.
A dead tree can lie down longer
like the hull of a ship
than a strong rafter
can stand up
like a mast on the bridge.
You might take matters
like the wheel of birth and death
into your firm hands
and try to weather the storm
like a feather in a hurricane
but the waters of life
still slip through your fingers
like stars and clouds and rain
and your grasp on any rival circumstance
that might threaten your survival.
The dispossessed are freer than those
that are standing in line
waiting for their own arrival.
O sweet freedom
not to send my thoughts out like missionaries
to preach to the dissipated
the importance of staying in focus.
Not to go divining the source of the light
with a prism
that enshrines its Catholic colours
in see-through Protestant glass.
There are no sundogs
under my atheist eyes.
I don't project what I believe
like an eye-beam on a dark world
and expect to be conceived
like the image of God
as if I was born
the way I appear
from a cracked mirror.
I slip through the fault-lines
on the palms of my hands
like a hero plunging
into a gaping abyss
with legendary decorum
to save Rome from an earthquake in the Forum.
And O sweet freedom
that there's nothing sacrificial
about taking my own advice not to.
And no disappointed expectations.
Age disappears.
Origin disappears.
End disappears.
Being without disclosure.
Seeing without design.
Emptiness without intent.
No I
or its opposite.
And nowhere a sign
of what someone somewhere once meant.
Less than empty
a measure more than enough
to keep one tiny human heart
as perishable as a strawberry
full to eternity
with the sweetness of life on earth
when there's no birth
no death
in the taste of the moment.

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Soccer–Passion Song

Soccer–Passion Song

Soccer in the evening;
Soccer in the morning;
Soccer in spring and fall.

Soccer in the raining;
Soccer in the snowing;
Soccer in winter and summer.

Soccer in between my feet,
where I walk;
Soccer in my heart and mind,
how I live;
Soccer my love and life.

Soccer I wake up and play;
Soccer I hold it to sleep;
Soccer my work and rest.

Soccer I sing a new song;
Soccer I dance the magic steps;
Soccer my tears and joy.

Soccer my Mom buys it for me to play;
Soccer my Dad brings me to the game;
Soccer my dear Love watches me to score.

Soccer I dribble and shoot;
Soccer I pass and fall;
Soccer my glory and downfall.

Soccer I strike to attack;
Soccer I tackle to defend;
Soccer my struggle and survival.

Soccer I receive the flags and the whistles;
Soccer I get the yellow and red card;
Soccer my moves and stop.

Soccer I meet my friends;
Soccer I make my enemies;
Soccer my conflict and peace.

Soccer I play and watch;
Soccer I watch but cannot play;
Soccer my dream and reality.

Soccer I learn the rights;
Soccer I confess the fouls;
Soccer my black and white.

Soccer my endless thought;
Soccer my very last breathe;
Soccer my dating and being.

Soccer, I …
Soccer, You…
Soccer, We

Soccer! Soccer! Soccer!
Love! Life! and Game!
Forever! Soccer!


*

Life is to pursue your Goal!
Dream a big Goal!
Work hard for your Goal!
Chase passionate for your Goal!
Focus to shoot your Goal!
Play to finish your Goal!
Never ever give up your Goal!
And this is your life Goal!
In the end you will scream, 'Goaaal! '.


(by Laijon Liu 2007.05.25)


*

Passion Song (Style 2)

Soccer my love;
Soccer my passion;
Soccer my living breath and processing thought.

Without her I do not know
What is love and life?
With her my soul gravitates.

Soccer I give her my awakening touch;
Soccer I receive her irresistible call;
Soccer my magical ball.

Without her my tear, beer, and despair;
What's the purpose of life that plays not?
With her my buddies, friends, and kindly world.

Soccer my morning and my dawn;
Soccer my evening and my dusk;
Soccer my seasons of circling being.

Without her my world is in dark;
When is time to watch my sunrise ball?
With her my sunshine, moonlite, and eternal stars.

Soccer my beginning of journey;
Soccer my pasture where I rest;
Soccer my coming and going.

Without her I do not know
How and where I walk in life?
With her everywhither and everywhere I play.

Soccer I come;
Soccer I will go;
Soccer on earth we live!


(2007.05.25)


*

S.O.C.C.E.R.

Soccer starts,
On earth peoples become fans;
Care not wars, care not crimes;
Carry our flags, songs, and drums;
Everyone is dancing, chanting, harmonizing;
Restarted our true engine of human life.

Soccer plays,
On the pitch of our beautiful globe;
Care not politics, care not separatisms;
Carry our joys, passions, and oneness;
Everyone is coming, watching, and sharing;
Rebuilt our perfect sphere in one wholly piece.

Soccer ends,
On the screens of common household;
Care not victory nor defeat, honor or shame;
Carry our beer, tears, hopes; a great memory;
Everywhere we walk, meet, and argue…
Rekindled our souls in her beginning and ending.

Soccer we play and live,
On the street, beach, and green pasture;
Care not hatred of past, injury of nightmares;
Carry our sweat, spirit, and a virtuous living goal;
Every moment of our game in life
Refines our goodly being thru true love of beautiful game.

S. O. C. C. E. R.
O.
C.
C.
E.
R.


(2007 .05.28)


*

A Red Card in the Game!

A sudden stop of our play,
A bloody card and a cursed sign for us
To walk off our living pitch,
Whether winning or losing,
Artistical expression or violent acts,
Joys, tears, confusion, or frustration,
All must cease!

But our game goes on,
Our players play on,
And fans cheer on,
Coz life must go on.

Yeah, we must walk on!


(2007.06.01)


*

Soloist's Song

(Chorus :)
Soccer is the game, hey, hey, hey;
Beauty is her name, hey, hey, hey;
Playing is the way, hey, hey, hey;
Let her shine n ray, hey, hey, hey.

(Soloist: Intro.)
I kindly roll; roll it with my sole
To left and right; my soul, my soul;
I gently spin; spin it with my toe
As it may flow; my ode, my ode;
I softly knock; knock with my heel
In Achilles' mole; my show, my show;
I carefully stroke; stroke it through
Their wicked loophole, my hole, my hole;
I swiftly shoot; shoot it for my home
To my sweet home; my goal, my goal;
I earnestly pray: to play with my all
My ball is my all; my all, my all.

(Chorus :)
You all be coming and start watching,
The superstar is in the making.
You all be standing, and start singing,
The superstar is in the making.

Stick on your dives, quit your faking,
Throw your moves without acting;
Shut your yelling and start kicking,
Too much talking, let's working;
Stop dribbling and start passing,
Time's not waiting, stop longing;
Shun the world that they're joking,
The superstar is in the making.

You all be coming and start watching,
The superstar is in the making.
You all be standing, and start singing,
The superstar is in the making.

(Soloist)
I always take ball for a walk,
Show my love dance Rumba;
I let your dogs do the talk,
Juggle it with my driving Jive;
I am here to earn my stock,
Shaking with it in Samba;
I let you chase me and stalk,
Getting down low in Hip Hop.

Take it to a long walk to show off.
I'm a bit short, but still a big shock.
You can wag your finger and talk.
As long as I've got my ball,
My all, my all, my all

(Chorus :)
You all be coming and start watching,
The superstar is in the making.
You all be standing, and start singing,
The superstar is in the making.

(Soloist)
Hey, Get off my stage,
You bad dogs in rage;
Coz the Hyena outta cage,
My k9 cut you in siege.
I've paid full to wage
A revolt on my page;
To stop your sinful rampage
And welcome a new age.

Take it to a long walk to make people talk.
The board is green, my feet are chalk,
Let my single footnote be taught,
As long as I've got my ball,
My all, my all, my all

(Chorus :)
You all be coming and start watching,
The superstar is in the making.
You all be standing, and start singing,
The superstar is in the making.

(Soloist :)
Can't you see I'm in flame;
I'm here for a good game;
Work hard for my common name;
Not to make it into a frame;
You can keep all the fame;
But I play for a higher aim,
Even I end up walk in lame
Or go down in shame, no blame.

Take it to a long walk to the splashing wave.
Rise above all shouts of your dead cave,
Let your noise be my rhymed stave.
As long as I've got my ball,
My all, my all, my all

(Chorus :)
You all be coming and start watching,
The superstar is in the making.
You all be standing, and start singing,
The superstar is in the making.

(Soloist :)
When my game meets rain,
My dream is into the drain;
When my faith is on the string,
My gut hurts your brain;
The Cup is for me to drink,
Coz God Is always in reign;
And I always live to train,
So all fields are fair terrain.

Take it to a long walk to test my backbone.
Even tonight you throw your stone;
Let it be my wellstone or milestone;
As long as I've got my Cornerstone;
My all, my all, my all

(Chorus :)
You all be coming and start watching,
The superstar is in the making.
You all be standing, and start singing,
The superstar is in the making.

(Soloist :)
I can hold my peace;
I can play with ease.
Gals love me as cheese;
All faults are gonna cease.
Coz I've got a real piece
To make all race in peace,
And you think it's fleece,
But I believe it's Grace.

Take it to a long walk to where my heart goes.
Even time decides to join my foes;
Let my Wind come with His blows;
As long as I've got my ball;
My all, my all, my all

(Chorus :)
You all be coming and start watching,
The superstar is in the making.
You all be standing, and start singing,
The superstar is in the making.

Stick on your dives, quit your faking,
Throw your moves without acting;
Shut your yelling and start kicking,
Too much talking, let's working;
Stop dribbling and start passing,
Time's not waiting, stop longing;
Shun the world that they're joking,
The superstar is in the making.

You all be coming and start watching,
The superstar is in the making.
You all be standing, and start singing,
The superstar is in the making.

(Soloist: Epilogue)
Journey is in curiosity;
We play in creativity;
Winning is a possibility;
Love provides ability;
Faith is in charity;
All is in the Almighty

(Chorus :)
Soccer is the game, hey, hey, hey;
Beauty is her name, hey, hey, hey;
Playing is the way, hey, hey, hey;
Let her shine n ray, hey, hey, hey.

Note:
They say soloists are selfish and proud,
But I think they have guts and courage;
After watching some bad politician news
I felt that all of us were used for amuse,
So I somehow had the image of soloists,
who have balls and ball and skill to solo
against all the things they disagree with.
I don't think this is about soccer, if not
Then 'One Man Against the World! '
He or She can be Hero or Villain, or both.

*

I Dream a Greatest Living Show (Revised 20090402)

- The Start Is Play -

On green earth in the dark universe,
What is the greatest living show?
There people find their true home,
and in sweetest dream they roam.
When sinful wars poke all the holes,
but their game points a better road;
to their sorrow days and lost hope,
they still can sing a rhymed prose.
From the presence to ancient old,
I swear we never lose our true goal;
Even the night rains strike with cold,
But dawn gonna come in color of rose.
Coz I see petal fly and sticker snow,
from my screen to the front rows.
There the stars fall in heavenly glow
to sing an intro for my heroes’ show.
'No more sorrows' they sing, 'behold.
the world gonna become one big hood.'
The camera flash for their perfect pose,
And their peaceful hand heals broken soul.
The whistle of commander for ref to blow,
it’s made for games and not for gun smoke.

My hot babes and my sweet maids
I cannot refrain myself not to gaze.
For their pure face and glamour shape
Shine ten thousand splendors to amaze.
They are the sunshine of my days,
And night rose of my secret space,
Brings me blue sky and good odors,
that the world is not a shitty place.

They stretch their beautiful feet,
Swing their shining sharpen cleats,
so all the cockroaches on my screen
are swept away, off the wicked games.
They work hard on the green pitch,
and always play under fair light,
even dive and foul in an honest name:
The chasing of their dream is true fame.

And peace filled their graceful heart;
Perfect shorts wrapped their sexy butt.
As butterflies they dance here n there,
Like doves they circle a ring of light.
They come in kicking and screaming,
playing with guts n breaking the balls,
composing all the greatest dramas that
even Shakespeare never saw!

Greek heroes of the present day
surely broke Achilles' feeble heel.
Odysseus always had strong arms,
But hey! Look at his weak legs.
Homer sold his Helen’s fair look,
but I do lust for Divas on the stand.
Sun Zi wrote Art of War, for war? !
Oh, No! I believe it is just for game.

And game wheels in movement of life,
as sprinting river clashing waves to the ocean.
People climb high to reach the peak,
but water streams low as art of my poem.
Generations in current from past to future,
Rolling and waving, pushing and pulling,
As songs and dance shift in tones and steps,
All kinds of fashions, old n new, switching trends,
But our passion for it forever runs.

Days and nights I stare at my TV screen,
Hope all channels show any team’s news.
According to result I drink beer or tears;
but if any rats or flies or cockroach wins,
I’d spit and blow a tooting fart: “what a damn scheme! ”
Yeah, I should quit those; coz gals hate them.
But my fields are invaded by the true aliens,
who show me their phony cards and tell me to play or not.

And the damn cockroaches sharing my meal
Before my lifetime potato feast is over;
Freaking flies soaring high in the ceiling
and dropp their filthy eggs all over my bed;
And vicious rats sharpening their teeth,
Chewing my precious peanuts as concerto;
And I look toward my dream field and know:
Before the night is over, my heroes gonna win.

Even though the flies set up the fireworks
To make the skies to illume as a short day;
The cockroaches consume all the markets,
Marching in with an overwhelmed number;
The rats of the world drain my only oil jar,
And they dare to kill anyone without blinking an eye;
But I know their works are dust and smoke,
Once my players step in the field, then all dirt are dispersed.

So all my players are my heroes and stars
And defending my crappy poetry space-
Where Beauty shines and Hope glows
There my dream rows and heart goes
As the ball rolls that my desire flows
There the gods feed me their shows
In the company of the musical odes;
They chase n woo and fighting my foes!

Their gentle touch n clever play,
and buildup ways make me daze.
Their teasing moves never delay,
Tricked the world into fancy gate.
One and Two they call it Wall Play,
Bring out woohs n aahs in any day.
They patiently wait, as time won’t pay,
but I can’t hold n yell “Come on! Ain’t got all day! ”

Yeah, what a game! It’s never a shame.
90 minutes length; never 2 minutes fame.
Guys strive for competition;
Gals always require communication,
but I say, 'Forget about connection,
Just shoot to the goal with passion.
If anyone asks for an explanation,
just tell that we were caught by emotion and lost in sensation.'

Players stand and start in formation,
their thoughts of plans are deep as ocean,
And cleansed by their rousing sweat lotion
to push our earth to a perfect spinning motion.
What an inspiration to the world in depression,
when all of us stumble in confusion n frustration,
and struggle to get out of the freaking desperation,
there they deliver our satisfaction -another resurrection.

And I know resurrection is after death,
and death is after life, and life begins by birth.
Confucius said: “Why one asks about death,
when he does not grasp the meaning of life? ”
And Jesus said: “If anyone wants to gain life,
then he must die first, to receive his true life.”
But why I mention this topic in my paragraph,
maybe I just wanna show I know something, or add on more words.

But let me offer another way for explaining:
The ending of game is after its beginning,
And the game must end for a new starting,
And in it, whatever we are experiencing
Is just eternal struggling in a flashing;
And in the end, nothing remains its glowing,
Nor greatest ranking, nor highest scoring,
If there are really anything, then I'd say playing, drinking n snoring.

But wait, in the game what a suffering for playing!
Physical, I called it aching, like a nail pulling;
Spiritual, I called it battling, like a bad dating.
But these two are always coming with smiling.
And we can do nothing but to skip and running.
When the physical pain comes with knocking,
the spiritual wound is wrapped and covered,
once our body healed, then spiritual torment revealed.

Pills for cold, surgery for bone fracture,
but whats the treatment for missing shots?
Chocolate for girls, sorry notes for wife,
But how can we run away from our Own Goal?
Fill up the cups, drink up the whole bottle,
But before we awake, sorrow returns with a stick.
When the body melts, shatters into dust,
our spirit lingers, roams solo as a cursed ghost.

Yeah, no one is sadder than a lonely soul;
as a solo player tries to fit in the team,
plays an unfamiliar game thru an unusual frame:
Communications for a single connection;
Negotiations to deal individual obsession;
and cut-throat competition for a short possession.
One must surf against all the mighty waves,
to find himself and others thru endlessly searching, forever downloading and acceptable uploading.

Struggling life as striving game in a flash,
for single second glory, forever to catch.
So lets drive it with ease and hush,
and bring no more harms or headless rush.
If it really hurts and our regretful thoughts gush,
then drink beer, shed tear, and kiss our dear.
Even night seems forever, but love never over;
Even we can’t abide together, lets share before it’s all over.

And my heroes learn from their young age,
that practice makes all things perfect.
When they try to help family cooking,
Mom yells at them: “You need practice! ”
When they miss their easy shots on pitch,
Coach roars at them: “Go Home Practice! ”
When their wife teased them in the morning,
they knew they must work hard in the backyard, kitchen and bathroom.

So their nightly works in a fragrant smell
Breezes kindly in morning winds to miles,
sweetest perfume sweat- irresistible cologne-
70 bucks draws their girl fans to heaven.
Their winning cleats never washed,
Pass down good luck to generations with odor.
So let the ref blow his unfair whistle,
Coz my heroes must dance shirtless for yellow and red cards.

Their game is not only pure physical,
But it also requires some brain, or any;
Most time my heroes use their foot,
And sometimes they also throw their head,
But when their game is on the line,
That time burns to injury count,
And the goal must be achieved,
They will use anything, like their godly hand, vicious elbow and provocative saliva to get things done.

Yeah, the game is a life feast from start to end,
and in it they gather and depart by chance,
thru the taste of sour, sweet, bitter, and hot,
as four season dream they roam to awake.
Sunset and sunrise, moon wanes and wax;
our heroes come and go, rise and fall,
while our passion sings up and shouts out:
The goal of life is a forever chase, and never give-up shot.

This game of war thru peace they exchange,
As life and death exemplified by start and end.
Losing requires tear n beer, nor life, nor blood;
Winning of cup is celebrated in showering wine.
Clubs rearrange all countries and towns,
Nation against nation compete in fair plays,
only the purest concept reigns over all:
Virtuous Way, changing seasons, cultures, wits, and common laws.

No more boundaries and worldly craps,
As what we have submitted for our love:
Options of colors, race and fair looks,
Age for fit, wage for security,
Weights, heights, interests, and habits,
Certificates to speak for minds and wits;
But I long for thy cherry lips and beauty’s rose,
And my size n length to reach thy depth n width,
And my ultimate strength to fulfill thy enduring faith,
If not, then thy merciful forgiveness is my living grace.
And this is moment of my truth -my real bullshits.

My true heroes on green pitch they play;
as injurious insect in the world they beguile.
That they rip off all the crappy covers,
as the bold band of Robin Hood robs the rich for gold,
as the intoxicated outlaw of marsh fighting corruptions,
as the cowboy Jesse James rides riotously in Wild West.
And I raise up my two hands and praise their work:
May their deception in the game never ends.

Oh, deception! How could I forget about!
Wise act as April’s fool; lions speak as meek;
Vultures soar as eagles; and wolves dress as sheep;
Able does not show, giving is to receive;
Enemy is never far, and friends are never close.
Seduce their greed, rob those in chaos,
Avoid the strong, scratch the wrath,
Praise the humbles, and labor the rested,
Separate the close, strike the incautious,
and break into the house of rash head.
But let me stop plagiarizing Sun Zi’s.

Yeah, my heroes are the players that know themselves,
and before their game starts they learn their enemies.
Seasons pass, nights and days, they will never lose.
They launch in a common form and score with surprise.
Ooh, their surprises! Limitless as heavens and earth,
ceaselessly flushes as rolling river and spring water.
Their splashing waves beating the stony shores,
Chunk by chunk the rock are tossed and metal floats.

On the pitch they strike with thunder blow.
Their golden shoes are the cloudy Zeus’ bow,
Aim every wicked hole, and shoot a deadly stroke.
As hawk they soar, as tiger they stalk, as lion they roar,
in sec of flash the old foxes are trapped and choke.
My heroes wax their bow with strength,
Shoot off their silvering arrows in trice,
and beat down their enemies as a giant rock that rolls.

Their great strategy lies in a fluid form,
Changes its infinite shape as time flows;
Swift as high winds that blows, sweeping clouds;
Calm as night forest that grows, unmoving oceans;
Wild as autumn fire that razes, brimstone storms;
Firm as Himalayas that stands, everlasting tall!
They are my monkey king holds a magic staff,
smashes nine heavens and stirs four seas.

People say: “Warriors are born for war,
and they are never made for good date.”
But they are more than heroes and players;
they are lover and mate, and perfect fit.
Coz on our dear mother earth they strive
fearlessly for love, barefoot they pursue;
shamelessly for truth, strip off all their cloth,
Drunk with dreams, and intoxicated for hope.

When their magical sphere rolls and bounces,
Strangers in the world become old time intimate.
One by one and step by step in rhyme and tone,
The world rises to awake, to listen and to echo:
One and two and three, we hold our hand and sing;
Four and five and six, we lean together and dance;
Seven, eight and nine, heaven rains and earth swings;
Ten, eleven and twelve, world melts and spirit joins;
Thirteen, fourteen and sixteen, ah- time stops.

Oh my dreamer! Wake up! Wake up!
Call back your roaming spirit to return,
to the mortal shell of this mirage world.
We don’t call the game, not one, or any.
In chain we are dragged into the coliseum,
we bleed for the worldly gods to drink wine,
we howl bitter tear forthe angels’ to sip beer,
we are heroes in our dream, but wake to be slave.

For we rise to end, flourish to decline.
Life goes to death, surviving to end.
Oh love! Topic of two in spirit and mind;
But a single dropp of joy ripples lifetime griefs.
Cupid toys his bow, affection surges and ebbs.
Death preaches his faith, a license to kill,
so we all battle for someone else’ belief,
and offer our tear, blood, and blind faith.

Yeah, world's image clouds and entices,
as the fortune road never in our grasp.
The unseeing stars shiver in deep heavens,
I can see the soaring flies, marching roaches,
hear the symphony of rats, harmonizing;
But I know after dark night, rosy dawn,
after rain storms, then rainbows,
And toward the green field I smile and look.

Winter passes and spring comes quickly,
Sun smiles kindly and rain caresses softly,
Wind blows loving seeds everywhere swiftly,
Willow shade our streets and swing tenderly.
All flowers are blossoming courageously,
spreading their gorgeous petals widely,
and showing off their sweet pistil wildly.
There butterflies offering love dance freely,
Honey bees singing and flying, working n playing joyfully.

Come, my love. Lets row to the pleasure field,
there we will visit the dream of red chamber,
All the beauties express themselves thru poetry,
As my heroic players en pointed in swan lake;
Their peaceful feet spread blessed good news
To all the children of the green mother earth.
And lets loose our shoes to play, and be lost;
Coz the pasture of our true heart is holy,
and there we shall stay forever happily.

I will hold your hand, and together we'll fly; and we not gonna touch the blue sky, nor pluck the golden moon, nor stir the star oceans. But we will leap off the high cliff, and free fall, and sink deep into the darkness of downlow, to the mystery of eternity, of the still water, there the Spirit floats, since the beginning of the big bang.

Then, we shall hear the song of birds, wonder the glamour of rainbows, smell the fragrant earth, kiss the flavor roses, taste the sweetest honey dew, pick all the juicy fruit, close our eyes to roam, and plunge into the beauty of Eden – that’s love! And be reborn to a new life.

- The End Is Peace -


(2008.04.08)

+

Watching Soccer

Silver light spilled on the green pasture,
Young bucks striving to become heroes.
Thousands thundering songs and drums,
Such wild night suits men’s whole life.


(20080605)

+

How Lovely Her Classical Old Face

How lovely her classical old face,
The complete sphere of two colors,
That knit the union of black n white,
Serves the game of amity and peace,
Thru her magic bounce and troll,
Never stops till her world spins,
Angels chant and God smiles.


(20081026)

+

Lets Get On the Green Pitch

Lets get on the green pitch
Be our own devils or gods
No more waiting weeps
And no more sideline talks

Lets get on the grassy field
Before the dews dropp off
There we shed our sweat
And there we taste our tear

Lets get on the cradle bed
Before the world wakes us
There we swing in our dream
And there we look up to stars

Lets get on with our ball
Before this magic stops
There we chase and fall
There our love never short

Lets get on and get on
Till that whistle shouts
No more games or dreams
No more breath and no more


(20090413/ Poem for our Chinatown Soccer Club in New York City,
To Coach Gerhard and all playmates and teammates: -)

+

It Always Be a Soccer Game

We must conquer it! Mate!
This world of name and fame
Let our life be a fun game
In the days of sunshine or rain

We must not shrink away
From our fear of fault or defeat
Let our time worth in second
Thru all the chance we’ve made

We must never be tamed
By any result or fate
Let our work be forever
In the moment of every take

We must learn to play
For victory, or to lose
Coz whatever our triumph is
It always be a soccer game.


(20091201/After watching Barcelona vs Real Marid)

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Not Always What We Seek

After you'd got on
the school bus
and sat down

in one of the side seats
Jane said
who did you fight with

in the playground
lunchtime?
Woolgar

you said
he pushed me over
against the wire fence

and I got up
and went for him
she looked disappointed

I didn't think
you could be violent
she said

I'm not usually
but it was an automatic
response to being

pushed over
you said
my daddy said

one should turn
the other cheek
especially if you're a Christian

she said softly
the school bus
started up

and took off down
the school drive
sorry

you said
but the creep
got under my skin

and if you let them
get away with it once
they'll always do it

she gazed at you
then out
of the window

at the passing shops
and buildings
of the town

were you watching?
you asked
yes I saw you

from the girl's playground
she muttered
not looking round

guess it looked
kind of bad
yes it did

she turned
and looked at you
but at least

you don't do it
all the time
she said

and touched
your hand
with hers

and you felt sad
inside that you'd
made her feel like that

and you saw
how lovely her
dark eyes were

how there seemed
to be a mini universe
in them with their own

galaxies and stars
and moons
next time I'll think twice

you said
before hitting
the other boy

she nodded
and smiled
and her hand

squeezed yours
her skin soft and warm
her hair black

and drawn back
into a ponytail
sitting there

beside you
her grey school skirt
and jumper

and white blouse
the neck open
the sight

of her throat
and you wanting
to kiss but not doing so

her neck
her skin
the feel

of her hair
against your cheek
sometimes

you thought
we can't have
what we seek.

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For Those Who Are Wise

for those who are wise
are the very first to admit
they do not know much
just a little pinch of salt
to taste,

for those who are young
they do not talk about age at all
for those who are healthy
the medicine is not an issue

for those who are rich
money is not an issue
for those who are intelligent
the I.Q. is a taboo
for those who speak much
their inside is hollow
for those who listen much
everything is taken as such

for those who are dying
life becomes the most precious thing
for those who are fooled
to honesty must be glued.

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Those Who Walk Among Us

We never know about those
who walk among us
whether they are good or bad
or have their mind set
on some other intent.

There are the wicked
of whom we seldom speak.
Their deeds are so awful
they bring chills to our spine
and revolution to our face.

Yet there are others
whom some call angels
in human form
and their caring and compassion
is never really done.

Two different forces
that are poles apart,
we should be able
to see the difference
between them, but we do not.

Those who walk among us
are different yet so alike
we just have to trust
our instincts to choose
which is wrong or right.


18 August 2011

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Unconditional

Unconditional, unconditional
Unconditional, unconditional
Who else would let someone nail them to a cross
For the sake of others so they would not be lost
No one, No one, will go that far for us
Who else would let someone get away with so much wrong
But still extend them gret
No one, No one, have so much love for us
The kind of love he shows is unconditional
His love don't come and go it's unconditional
Who else but him
He's a constant friend
Even when others turn them backs against
No one, No one is always there for us
So what kind of love
So even when your closest friends and family give up on you
Theres not a day when you can't depend on him

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Unconditional

Unconditional, unconditional
Unconditional, unconditional
Who else would let someone nail them to a cross
For the sake of others so they would not be lost
No one, No one, will go that far for us
Who else would let someone get away with so much wrong
But still extend them gret
No one, No one, have so much love for us
The kind of love he shows is unconditional
His love don't come and go it's unconditional
Who else but him
He's a constant friend
Even when others turn them backs against
No one, No one is always there for us
So what kind of love
So even when your closest friends and family give up on you
Theres not a day when you can't depend on him

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The Full Meaning Of Love

You know...
You are the first one in my life,
I have 'allowed' full reign.
And instead of appreciating this...
You will not let me get away with 'anything'.
You watch everything I do!
Plus...
You have the ability to 'read' my movements.

When I said I love you.
And I was certain of it...
It was as if I had hired a personal trainer,
To control and conduct...
Every aspect of my business.

'Hey baby...
You'll get over it.
I've got your front,
Your back...
And everything defined in your mind.
Whatever and 'whomever'
You were involved with before...
You opened up your door?
To me and my talents?
Was not love!

And...
I am going to show you,
The full meaning of love!
Trust me.
We are going to be together,
For the rest of our lives.
Can you feel it?
I know I can.'

That's great.
I need a moment alone...
To meditate.

'Sure, honey.
I am so glad we have that in common.
Take all the time you need.'

Our Father...
Who Art in Heaven.
Is this of Your doing?
Will You please RSVP me...
As soon as You receive this message.

It is of the utmost importance.

You will find me...
Praying for Your immediate response.
Meditating...
In a quiet space.
Awaiting to receive Your 'sign'.

Remember when I asked You for love,
Like none other I had ever known?
I think...
I'm not sure yet.
But I 'think'...
I should have qualified my requirements.
Please confirm 'THIS' as Your gift.

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Michael Jackson and the Titles of His Songs

M-an In The Mirror, a Human Nature to Beat It,
I-nvincible Butterflies, Pretty Young Thing, I Can't Help It!
C-an't Let Her Get Away, a Girlfriend-Liberian Girl,
H-eal The World, The Lady In My Life, There Must Be More To Life
Than This!
A-nother Part Of Me has a Serious Effect,
E-arth Song, Privacy, Cry, Thriller, Trouble...Whatever Happens...
Heaven Can Wait!
L-eave Me Alone...Say, Say, Say...Whatzupwitu...Wanna Be Startin'
Somethin'...
J-ust Good Friends, The Way You Make Me Feel...Speechless.
A- Childhood, Billie Jean, Black or White...In The Back...Monkey
Business!
C-heater, Stranger in Moscow, Money, They Don't Care About Us!
K-eep The Faith...For All Time...What More Can I Give...
S-hout...Scream...Smile...Break of Dawn, Dangerous, Is It Scary?
O-ne More Chance...Give In To Me...Will You Be There...This
Time Around......
N-oting The Way You Love Me...Elizabeth, I Love You...You Where
There...Gone Too Soon...On The Line...HIStory!

This acrostic poem is dedicated to one of my favorite artists... Michael Jackson...(in memory of him) .

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Stagger Lee

The night was clear and the moon was yellow
And the leaves came tumbling down
I was standing on the corner
When I heard my bulldog bark
He was barking up at the two men
Who were gambling in the dark
It was stagger lee and billy
Two men who gambled late
Stagger lee threw a seven
Billy swore, he threw an eight
Stagger lee told billy,
I cant let you get away with that
Well, youve won all my money
And my brand new stetson hat
Stagger lee ran home
Went and got him his 44
Said, Im going to the bar room
Just to pay that debt that I owe
Go stagger lee, go stagger lee
Go stagger lee, go stagger lee
Said, i m going to the bar room
Just to pay that debt that I owe
Stagger lee went to the bar room
Boy, he stood across the bar room doors
Said, now, nobody move
And he pulled out his 44
Stagger lee, cried billy
Oh, please dont you take my life
I got me three little children
And a very sickly wife
Go stagger lee, go stagger lee
Go stagger lee, go stagger lee
Got me three little children
And a very, very sickly wife
Stagger lee shot billy
Boy, he shot that poor boy so bad
That the bullet came thru billy
And went right thru the bartenders glass
While I was standing on the corner
When I heard my bulldog bark
He was barking up at the two men
Who were gambling in the dark
Go stagger lee, go stagger lee
Go stagger lee, go stagger lee
Well, he was barking up at the two men
Who were gambling in the dark

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Hated Love

I hate that I need/want you I hate how you make me smile I hate that am only truly happy with you hate that I let you get away with things I hate this non stop pain in my heart when you go I hate when you say I love you and I get instant butterflies I hate that you are the only one that can make me go from happy to sad or sad to happy but what I truly hate is how you just can't tell how much i love you....i hate this love....i just wish it would go away...but I know it won't go so ill just have to accept this love that I truly deeply HATE! ! ! !

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Almost Right

Almost right, always wrong.

Almost there, forever gone.

Almost free, in darkness chained.

Almost changed, but forever the same.

Almost saved is always doomed.

Almost there is never in bloom.

Almost won, is lost, lost, lost!

Almost free comes with a dreadful cost.

God, we live on lines of almost,

Wondering why we fail and bite the dust,

We crumble and declare we win

When we never even got in.

We claim we have it all

But we really ain't got nothing at all.

Thinking we can get away with sin.

But reality is, it ain't gonna let us in.

Thinking we can just change the word a bit.

But it ain't never gonna stick.

Almost right is ALWAYS wrong

Almost strong is never strong.

Almost there is nowhere.

Almost found is lost who-knows-where.

Almost right, ALWAYS wrong.

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Courage

Tap in, Tap in
Yeah, tap into my sharpened senses
I have the courage to speak
I have the courage to think
I am me, today and tomorrow

With courage we engage
Bringing new things to life's stage
We remove excessive baggage
As we try hard to be above average

Tap in, Tap in
Yeah, tap into my sharpened senses
Don't attempt to break down my defences
I have the courage to encourage
I rage upon those who discourage
For those who clap their hands in pretence
At my courageous expenses give out only offense

Courage has built me a new image
I feel as if I have entered a new age
I stand out now as I have come out of my cage
Making a difference as I get rid of blockages

Tap in, Tap in
Yeah, tap into my sharpened senses
Courage is great
Courage is the way forward
Courage sets the stage for change
Today is only today because of the courage of others

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Her Mother's Dark Moments

In one of her mother’s
dark moments

of opening up
Clara’s mother had said

of the baby
which died

after a few days
that she threw it

in the trash
before anyone

could find out
about the darn thing

and you could
back then girl

you could get away
with almost anything

if no one knew a thing
about it

and then her mother’d
clammed up

and go back
to staring into space

as if she’d opened up
too much

and Clara tried to imagine
what it must have been like

to have done that
and she tried to picture

her dead sister
lying amongst trash

and what she looked like
and what colour hair

she had
and her eyes

when she was briefly alive
what colour they were

and how they stared out
at the mother

glaring back at her
not wanting

not caring
and it all came back

to that in the end
the wanting of being

of love
and seeing he mother

there just sitting
and staring

and not wanting
and not caring

just the occasional glimmer
in eyes

that were becoming
darker and dimmer.

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I Go Crazy

I took my baby to see a heavy band
But I never saw my baby till the encore
She had the singer by the hand
I didnt wanna cry cause I had to be cool
I didnt wanna tell you that youre too cruel
Did you have to run off with that dog-gone fool?
All I gotta do is think about you
Evry night and day I go crazy
All I gotta do is get my hands on you
You better stay away from me baby
I wouldnt mind the postman if the neighbours didnt know
Or the gas man the electric man - man to fix the car
Id have to let it go
But you had to bring me down for a rock n roll clone
Leave me like a sucker standing all alone
Did you have to run off with that rolling stone?
All I gotta do is think about you
Evry night and day I go crazy
All I gotta do is get my hands on you
You better stay away from me baby
So I aint gonna go and see the rolling stones no more
No more
I dont wanna go see queen no more no more
Now I dont wanna hurt you like you been a-hurting me
But you know that Ill be watching
Rolling on the floor next time youre on tv
Had enough of your pretending that you know where its at
Coming on to all the boys like a real spoilt brat
To think that I nearly let you get away with all that
No way man
All I gotta do is think about you
Evry night and day I go crazy
All I gotta do is get my hands on you

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Unsent

Dear Mathew I like you a lot
I realize you're in a relationship
with someone right now and I respect that
I would like you to know
that if you're ever single in the future
and you want to come visit me in california
I would be open to spending time with you
and finding out how old you were
when you wrote your first song

Dear Jonathan I liked you too much
I used to be attracted to boys
who would like to me
and think solely about themselves
and you were plenty self-destructive
for my taste at the time
I used to say the more tragic the better
the truth is whenever I think of the early 90's
your face comes up with a vengenance
like it was yesterday

Dear Terrance I love you muchly
you've been nothing but open hearted
and emotionally availabe and supportive
and nurturing and consummately there for me
I kept drawing you in and pushing you away
I remember how beautiful it was
to fall asleep on your couch
and cry in front of you for the first time
you were the best platform
from which to jump beyond myself
what was wrong with me

Dear Marcus you rocked my world
you had a charismatic way about you
with the women and you got me seriously thinking
about spirituality and you wouldn't let me
get away with kicking my own ass
but I could never really feel relaxed
and looked out for around you though
and that stopped us from getting any further
than we did and it's kinda too bad
because we could've had much more fun

Dear Lou we learned so much
I realize we won't be able to talk for some time
and I understand that as I do you
the long distance thing was the hardest
and we did as well as we could
we were together during a very tumultuous time
in our lives I will always have your back
and be curious about you
and about your career you whereabouts

song performed by Alanis Morissette from Supposed Former Infatuation JunkieReport problemRelated quotes
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I Like You

Something in you caused me to, Take a new tact with you, You were going through something, I had just about scraped through
Why do you think I let you get away, With the things you say to me?, Could it be I like you, It's so shameful of me, I like you
No one I ever knew or have spoken to, Resembles you, This is good or bad, all depending on, My general mood
Why do you think I let you get away, With all the things you say to me?, Could it be I like you, It's so shameful of me, I like you
Magistrates who spend their lives, Hiding their mistakes
They look at you and I, and, Envy makes them cry, Envy makes them cry
Forces of containment, They shove their fat faces into mine, You and I just smile, Because we're thinking the same lines
Why do you think I let you get away, With all the things you say to me?, Could it be I like you, It's so shameful of me, I like you
You're not right in the head and nor am I, And this why, You're not right in the head and nor am I, And this why
This is why I like you, I like you, I like you, This is why I like you, I like you, I like you
Because you're not right in the head, and nor am I, And this is why, You're not right in the head, and nor am I
And this is why, This is why I like you, I like you, I like you, I like you
This is why I like you, I like you, I like you, I like you, This is why I like you, I like you

song performed by MorrisseyReport problemRelated quotes
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The Wedding List

No, Ill never give the hunt up,
And I wont muck it up.
Somehow this is it, I knew.
Maybe fate wants you dead, too
Weve come together in the very same room,
And Im coming for you!
Do you think Id ever let you
Get away with it, huh?
He swooned in warm maroon.
Theres gas in your barrel, and Im flooded with doom.
Youve made a wake of our honeymoon,
And Im coming for you!
All of the headlines said passion crime
newly weds groom shot dead
mystery man. God help the bride
Shes a widow, all in red,
With his red still wet. she said--
Ill put him on the wedding list!
Ill put him on the wedding list!
Ill get him and I will not miss.
Now, as Im coming for you,
All I see is rudi.
I die with him, again and again.
And Ill feel good in my revenge.
Im gonna fill your head with lead
And Im coming for you!
And when its all over youll roll over
The butt of my gun:
One in your belly, and one for rudi.
You got what you gave by the heel of my bootie.
Bang-bang--out! like an old cherootie,
Im coming for you!
All of the headlines said passion crime:
newly weds groom shot dead
mystery man. God help the bride!
Shes a widow, all in red,
With his red still wet. she said--
She sure got him on the wedding list
Ill got him on the wedding list!
Ill got him and I will not miss.
Ill put him on the wedding list!
And after she shot the guy,
She committed suicide.
Im coming, rudi!
And later, when they analysed,
They found a little one inside.
It must have been rudis child.
I shot, I shot, I shot him honey!
Never mind, she got the guy.
He hit the ground, rudi!
An eye for an eye.
Ashes to ashes...
Eye for an eye.
I hit him, hit him
Rudi!, rudi!
Im coming coming coming honey
Eye for an eye.
Rudi!

song performed by Kate BushReport problemRelated quotes
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