Army Wife
Waiting every night
For an ominous phone call
Resenting waking up alone in the night
Swollen with pride
Enveloped by fear
What will happen this year
poem by Vanessa Kingsley
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[...] Read more
poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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It Can Happen
You can fool yourself
You can cheat until youre blind
You can cut your heart
It can happen
You can mend the wires
You can feed the soul apart
You reach
It can happen to you
It can happen to me
It can happen to everyone eventually
Its a constant fight
A constant fight
Youre pushing the needle to the red
Black and white
Who knows whos right
No substitute youre born youre dead
Fly by night
Created out of fantasy
Our destinations call
Look up - look down
Look out - look around
Look up - look down
Theres a crazy world outside
Were not about to lose our pride
It can happen to you
It can happen to me
It can happen to everyone eventually
As you happen to say
It can happen today
As it happens
It happens in every way
This world I like
We architects of life
A song a sigh
Developing words that linger
Through fields of green through open eyes
This for us to see
Look up - look down
Look out - look around
So look up - look down
Theres a crazy world outside
Were not about to lose our pride
It can happen to you
It can happen to me
It can happen to everyone eventually
As you happen to say
It can happen today
As it happens
It happens in every way
As you happen to see
[...] Read more
song performed by Yes
Added by Lucian Velea
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It Can Happen
You can fool yourself
You can cheat until youre blind
You can cut your heart
It can happen
You can mend the wires
You can feed the soul apart
You reach
It can happen to you
It can happen to me
It can happen to everyone eventually
Its a constant fight
A constant fight
Youre pushing the needle to the red
Black and white
Who knows whos right
No substitute youre born youre dead
Fly by night
Created out of fantasy
Our destinations call
Look up - look down
Look out - look around
Look up - look down
Theres a crazy world outside
Were not about to lose our pride
It can happen to you
It can happen to me
It can happen to everyone eventually
As you happen to say
It can happen today
As it happens
It happens in every way
This world I like
We architects of life
A song a sigh
Developing words that linger
Through fields of green through open eyes
This for us to see
Look up - look down
Look out - look around
So look up - look down
Theres a crazy world outside
Were not about to lose our pride
It can happen to you
It can happen to me
It can happen to everyone eventually
As you happen to say
It can happen today
As it happens
It happens in every way
As you happen to see
[...] Read more
song performed by Yes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Anything Can Happen
Intro:
I got the skully to my face (hardcore)
I got the skully to my face (hardcore)
Cause anything can happen at the carnival
(yo make room, make room, make room, make room, make room)
You cant stop the shining
Yo, dont slip mike
You dont want to go there is all, trust me
I know your girl wit you, but you dont want to get embarassed
Trust me
Chorus:
Yo, when youre rolling to the carnival, anything can happen
What, what, say what, say what, anything can happen
Making love to your girlfriend, anything can happen
What? say what, say what, anything can happen
Shes sleepin wit your best friend cause anything can happen
Wh-a-at? say what, say what, anything can happen
You roll down the block, come back with your gat
And pow, cause anything can happen
Verse one:
Feel this composition, its a brand new dub
First thing I did, was went to the pub
Tequila with worm, lemon, salt, and no rocks
Cause when it hits my chest -- it gots to be hot
Uh haha, stop, clef can I rock, yo
Get out the bathroom, let me go again from the top
Feel this composition, I wrote it in the tub
First thing I did, was went to the pub
Tequila with worm, lemon, salt, and no rocks
Cause when it hits my chest -- it gots to be hot
Ahhh, stop, clef can I rock
Id like to give a shout out to my people on the block
For you silly willy playin thug cartoon
My infrared scope got your movements on zoom
Boom new toon, write songs in my room
Sleeping with the bride, even though I aint the groom
Your husband assume, come back with his goons
Put me in the trunk on your way to your honeymoon
Radio my platoon, wyclef to sev
i hear them playing elvis, they on they way to graceland
But they dont scare me, Im in the trunk, I aint sorry
Natural born killer, who slept with the enemy
Think quick, what should I do, what did double-oh-seven do?
I pulled a bomb from my shoe (hahahahaha)
And exploded the trunk (blaooww) I woke up half drunk
Over looked by a bunch of gypsies wit a bag of skunk
Chorus:
You got the skully to your face, star, anything can happen
What, what, say what, say what, anything can happen
Sellin crack in the corner, man, anything can happen
[...] Read more
song performed by Wyclef Jean
Added by Lucian Velea
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Losing Life to Fear
In fear of being heard,
In fear of being understood,
In fear of not being heard,
In fear of not being understood,
In fear of being misheard,
In fear of being misunderstood,
In fear of hearing too much,
In fear of understanding too much,
In fear of saying too much,
In fear of saying too little,
In fear of being too enlightened,
In fear of not being factually correct,
In fear of being too bright,
In fear of being too ignorant,
In fear of being praised,
In fear of being bullied,
In fear of not being like others,
In fear of loosing my individuality,
In fear of being ostracized,
In fear of being camouflaged,
[...] Read more
poem by Suraj Samtani
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Phone Sex
(phone dials and rings)
Girl- hello? tweety-hahaha
Girl- hello? tweety- guess what baby?
Girl-what tweety- I can make you moan on the phone baby.
Girl- oh yeah? tweety- I can make you moan on the phone.
Girl- hahaha tweety- I can make ya moan on the phone baby.
Girl- ok tweety- I can make you moan on the phone
Girl- Im ready. phone sex. (yeah baby.)
Hows about a little phone sex? (Im gonna make it good for you tonight)
Hows about a little phone sex? (Im good with the long distance thing, I like it)
Hows about a little phone sex.(I just wanna make you moan just like you do when Im with
You)
Yo t-low. line 1. take the phone.
T-low- Im sorry baby, I cant be there with you but I got a freaky idea
Cause girl Im in a freaky mood. (oh yeah baby)
So follow directions closely, its gonna be da bomb
And before I let you go darling, Im gonna make you come.
Chorus-hows about a little phone sex? baby girl, if its all right.
Hows about a little phone sex? since we cant hook up tonight.
Hows about a little phone sex? cause you know itll feel so nice.
Hows about a little phone sex? lay back and enjoy the ride.
The real, line 2, nows time to get those fingers wet.
R.l.- touch it baby, you gotta open up.
Just imagine that its me inside, cant you feel real love?
I want you to ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? . scream as loud as you want.
Im chasin you while Im away from you, cant wait till I get home.
Chorus let the real make love to your mind. hows about a little phone sex?
Cmon, its at&t and you and me. hows about a little phone sex?
Baby Im gonna get so nasty. hows about a little phone sex?
Girl all ya gotta do is lose those pants.
Hows about a little phone sex? (time to get real nasty)
When you play with it, use the phone so I can hear it.
Hows about a little phone sex?
Cmon girl. cmon now.
Hows about a little phone sex? yeah, yeah.
Hows about a little phone sex? here it comes baby.
Ohhhhhhhh ohhhhhhhhhhhhh ohhhhhhh.
Im ? ? baby on the phone. ha, yeah.
Oh I can feel it. baby oh, oh, yeah. I dont wanna hurt you.
Baby you like the way it feels when you come so why dont you entertain yourself.
Oh, I know you like it. an oragasm without the back spasm.
song performed by Next
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Parish Register - Part III: Burials
THERE was, 'tis said, and I believe, a time
When humble Christians died with views sublime;
When all were ready for their faith to bleed,
But few to write or wrangle for their creed;
When lively Faith upheld the sinking heart,
And friends, assured to meet, prepared to part;
When Love felt hope, when Sorrow grew serene,
And all was comfort in the death-bed scene.
Alas! when now the gloomy king they wait,
'Tis weakness yielding to resistless fate;
Like wretched men upon the ocean cast,
They labour hard and struggle to the last;
'Hope against hope,' and wildly gaze around
In search of help that never shall be found:
Nor, till the last strong billow stops the breath,
Will they believe them in the jaws of Death!
When these my Records I reflecting read,
And find what ills these numerous births succeed;
What powerful griefs these nuptial ties attend;
With what regret these painful journeys end;
When from the cradle to the grave I look,
Mine I conceive a melancholy book.
Where now is perfect resignation seen?
Alas! it is not on the village-green: -
I've seldom known, though I have often read,
Of happy peasants on their dying-bed;
Whose looks proclaimed that sunshine of the breast,
That more than hope, that Heaven itself express'd.
What I behold are feverish fits of strife,
'Twixt fears of dying and desire of life:
Those earthly hopes, that to the last endure;
Those fears, that hopes superior fail to cure;
At best a sad submission to the doom,
Which, turning from the danger, lets it come.
Sick lies the man, bewilder'd, lost, afraid,
His spirits vanquish'd, and his strength decay'd;
No hope the friend, the nurse, the doctor lend -
'Call then a priest, and fit him for his end.'
A priest is call'd; 'tis now, alas! too late,
Death enters with him at the cottage-gate;
Or time allow'd--he goes, assured to find
The self-commending, all-confiding mind;
And sighs to hear, what we may justly call
Death's common-place, the train of thought in all.
'True I'm a sinner,' feebly he begins,
'But trust in Mercy to forgive my sins:'
(Such cool confession no past crimes excite!
Such claim on Mercy seems the sinner's right!)
'I know mankind are frail, that God is just,
And pardons those who in his Mercy trust;
[...] Read more
poem by George Crabbe
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Fears of a teenage mafioso
Fear of love,
Fear of pain,
Fear of the unforgiving cane,
Fear of lies,
Fear of sighs,
Fear of those distraught eyes,
Fear for the unknown,
Fear for the known,
Fear of everything combined,
Fear is what makes me blind,
Fear is what makes me think,
and act in blind accordance,
Hindering the world around me,
Hence, My Fear of myself
Fear is when you run away,
Fear is when you’re scared to love someone,
Fear is when the sky turns grey,
Fear of confusion,
Fear is like a dark blue ocean,
Fear won’t let me escape
Fear mocks me, watching
Fear taunts me, waiting
Fear of losing,
Fear you cannot see,
Fear dealt upon thee.
Fear of darkness and death,
Fear of a dead comrade,
Fear of a gun being cocked,
Fear of being endlessly stalked,
Fear of time,
Fear of all the crime,
Fear of the undesirable truth,
Fear for the good.
Fear for the sake of life,
Fear of the neighbors next door,
Fear of the secretive man in the subway,
Fear of the revolutionary uproar,
Fear is to not rejoice your living,
Fear for the sake of your life,
But to fear is to forsake it.
Fear is to have no hope in life,
Fear of the fear of fear,
We need no reason to fear,
For fear has no reason for itself.
I guess life is just like that,
To fear for no reason,
For to fear is not to reason,
But to reason is to fear.
To fear for the sake of fear,
Is fear for fear,
[...] Read more
poem by David daveres
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The Loves of the Angels
'Twas when the world was in its prime,
When the fresh stars had just begun
Their race of glory and young Time
Told his first birth-days by the sun;
When in the light of Nature's dawn
Rejoicing, men and angels met
On the high hill and sunny lawn,-
Ere sorrow came or Sin had drawn
'Twixt man and heaven her curtain yet!
When earth lay nearer to the skies
Than in these days of crime and woe,
And mortals saw without surprise
In the mid-air angelic eyes
Gazing upon this world below.
Alas! that Passion should profane
Even then the morning of the earth!
That, sadder still, the fatal stain
Should fall on hearts of heavenly birth-
And that from Woman's love should fall
So dark a stain, most sad of all!
One evening, in that primal hour,
On a hill's side where hung the ray
Of sunset brightening rill and bower,
Three noble youths conversing lay;
And, as they lookt from time to time
To the far sky where Daylight furled
His radiant wing, their brows sublime
Bespoke them of that distant world-
Spirits who once in brotherhood
Of faith and bliss near ALLA stood,
And o'er whose cheeks full oft had blown
The wind that breathes from ALLA'S throne,
Creatures of light such as still play,
Like motes in sunshine, round the Lord,
And thro' their infinite array
Transmit each moment, night and day,
The echo of His luminous word!
Of Heaven they spoke and, still more oft,
Of the bright eyes that charmed them thence;
Till yielding gradual to the soft
And balmy evening's influence-
The silent breathing of the flowers-
The melting light that beamed above,
As on their first, fond, erring hours,-
Each told the story of his love,
The history of that hour unblest,
When like a bird from its high nest
[...] Read more
poem by Thomas Moore
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I Am Waiting
I am waiting for my case to come up
and I am waiting
for a rebirth of wonder
and I am waiting
for someone to really discover America
and wail
and I am waiting
for the discovery
of a new symbolic western frontier
and I am waiting
for the American Eagle
to really spread its wings
and straighten up and fly right
and I am waiting
for the Age of Anxiety
to drop dead
and I am waiting
for the war to be fought
which will make the world safe
for anarchy
and I am waiting
for the final withering away
of all governments
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder
I am waiting for the Second Coming
and I am waiting
for a religious revival
to sweep through the state of Arizona
and I am waiting
for the Grapes of Wrath to be stored
and I am waiting
for them to prove
that God is really American
and I am waiting
to see God on television
piped’ onto church altars
if only they can find
the right channel
to tune in on
and I am waiting
for the Last Supper to be served again
with a strange new appetizer
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder
I am waiting for my number to be called
and I am waiting
for the Salvation Army to take over
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
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The Hind And The Panther, A Poem In Three Parts : Part III.
Much malice, mingled with a little wit,
Perhaps may censure this mysterious writ;
Because the muse has peopled Caledon
With panthers, bears, and wolves, and beasts unknown,
As if we were not stocked with monsters of our own.
Let Æsop answer, who has set to view
Such kinds as Greece and Phrygia never knew;
And Mother Hubbard, in her homely dress,
Has sharply blamed a British lioness;
That queen, whose feast the factious rabble keep,
Exposed obscenely naked, and asleep.
Led by those great examples, may not I
The wonted organs of their words supply?
If men transact like brutes, 'tis equal then
For brutes to claim the privilege of men.
Others our Hind of folly will indite,
To entertain a dangerous guest by night.
Let those remember, that she cannot die,
Till rolling time is lost in round eternity;
Nor need she fear the Panther, though untamed,
Because the Lion's peace was now proclaimed;
The wary savage would not give offence,
To forfeit the protection of her prince;
But watched the time her vengeance to complete,
When all her furry sons in frequent senate met;
Meanwhile she quenched her fury at the flood,
And with a lenten salad cooled her blood.
Their commons, though but coarse, were nothing scant,
Nor did their minds an equal banquet want.
For now the Hind, whose noble nature strove
To express her plain simplicity of love,
Did all the honours of her house so well,
No sharp debates disturbed the friendly meal.
She turned the talk, avoiding that extreme,
To common dangers past, a sadly-pleasing theme;
Remembering every storm which tossed the state,
When both were objects of the public hate,
And dropt a tear betwixt for her own children's fate.
Nor failed she then a full review to make
Of what the Panther suffered for her sake;
Her lost esteem, her truth, her loyal care,
Her faith unshaken to an exiled heir,
Her strength to endure, her courage to defy,
Her choice of honourable infamy.
On these, prolixly thankful, she enlarged;
Then with acknowledgments herself she charged;
For friendship, of itself an holy tie,
Is made more sacred by adversity.
Now should they part, malicious tongues would say,
They met like chance companions on the way,
[...] Read more
poem by John Dryden
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What You Waiting For?
What an amazing time.
What a family.
How did the years go by?
Now it's only me
Tick-tock
Tick-tock
Tick-tock
Tick-tock
Tick-tock
Tick-tock
Tick-tock
Tick-tock
La, la, la, la, la, la, la
Like a cat in heat stuck in a moving car
A scary conversation, shut my eyes, can't find the brake
What if they say that your a climber?
Naturally I'm worried if I do it alone
Who really cares cause it's your life?
You never know it could be great
Take a chance cause you might grow
Oh, oh ohhh
What you waiting
What you waiting
What you waiting
What you waiting
What you waiting for?
What you waiting
What you waiting
What you waiting
What you waiting
What you waiting for?
Tick-tock
Tick-tock
Tick-tock
Tick-tock
Take a chance you stupid hoe
Like an echo pedal you're repeating yourself.
You know it all by heart, why are you standing in one place?
Born to blossom, bloom to perish.
Your moment will run out 'cause of your sex chromosome.
I know its so messed how our society all thinks (for sure)
Life is short, your capable (uh-huh)
Oh, oh ohhh
Look at your watch now
You're still a super hot female
You got your million dollar contract
and they're all waiting for your hot track
What you waiting
What you waiting
What you waiting
[...] Read more
song performed by Gwen Stefani
Added by Lucian Velea
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Waiting For The Sunrise
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
So I can take your hand and stroll about.
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
So we can go on the streets and see the people smile.
Give me your hand,
So I could tell you that things will be alright.
The rooms still dark,
But it wont be so long,
And I can take you outside.
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
So we can go to the park and roll about.
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
So we can go to the docks and watch the boats go by.
Come on, love, give me your hand,
And things will be alright.
The rooms still cold,
But it wont be so long,
That we can go outside.
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
So I could see your hair shining in the air.
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
So I can see the sky reflected in your eyes.
Come on, love, dont be depressed,
Things will be alright.
The rooms too low,
But it wont be so long,
That we can be outside.
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
Waiting for the sunrise,
[...] Read more
song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Ghost - Book IV
Coxcombs, who vainly make pretence
To something of exalted sense
'Bove other men, and, gravely wise,
Affect those pleasures to despise,
Which, merely to the eye confined,
Bring no improvement to the mind,
Rail at all pomp; they would not go
For millions to a puppet-show,
Nor can forgive the mighty crime
Of countenancing pantomime;
No, not at Covent Garden, where,
Without a head for play or player,
Or, could a head be found most fit,
Without one player to second it,
They must, obeying Folly's call,
Thrive by mere show, or not at all
With these grave fops, who, (bless their brains!)
Most cruel to themselves, take pains
For wretchedness, and would be thought
Much wiser than a wise man ought,
For his own happiness, to be;
Who what they hear, and what they see,
And what they smell, and taste, and feel,
Distrust, till Reason sets her seal,
And, by long trains of consequences
Insured, gives sanction to the senses;
Who would not (Heaven forbid it!) waste
One hour in what the world calls Taste,
Nor fondly deign to laugh or cry,
Unless they know some reason why;
With these grave fops, whose system seems
To give up certainty for dreams,
The eye of man is understood
As for no other purpose good
Than as a door, through which, of course,
Their passage crowding, objects force,
A downright usher, to admit
New-comers to the court of Wit:
(Good Gravity! forbear thy spleen;
When I say Wit, I Wisdom mean)
Where (such the practice of the court,
Which legal precedents support)
Not one idea is allow'd
To pass unquestion'd in the crowd,
But ere it can obtain the grace
Of holding in the brain a place,
Before the chief in congregation
Must stand a strict examination.
Not such as those, who physic twirl,
Full fraught with death, from every curl;
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Churchill
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Truth and the Devil
The devil unstoppably took pride in salaciously writing; the book of
obnoxious caste-creed and venomously penalizing hatred,
The devil unstoppably took pride in acrimoniously writing; the book of
indiscriminate bloodshed and disastrously traumatizing ruthlessness,
The devil unstoppably took pride in vengefully writing; the book of
tyrannical devastation and lecherously bellicose orphaning,
The devil unstoppably took pride in fretfully writing; the book of
vindictive war and satanically criminal holocausts,
The devil unstoppably took pride in maliciously writing; the book of
coldblooded barbarism and manipulatively bizarre malice,
The devil unstoppably took pride in forlornly writing; the book of
worthless
ghosts and mortuaries brutally anointed with fresh blood,
T The devil unstoppably took pride in indigently writing; the book of
nonchalant spuriousness and fecklessly insipid meaninglessness,
The devil unstoppably took pride in torturously writing; the book of
ominous
animosity and hedonistically pugnacious illwill,
The devil unstoppably took pride in dictatorially writing; the book of
licentious bawdiness and insanely threadbare nothingness,
The devil unstoppably took pride in heinously writing; the book of
lascivious poverty and baselessly crippling uncertainty,
The devil unstoppably took pride in savagely writing; the book of
despicable
defeat and lethally ballistic atrociousness,
The devil unstoppably took pride in raunchily writing; the book of
dolorous
delinquency and insidiously slandering betrayal,
The devil unstoppably took pride in preposterously writing; the book of
scurrilous lunatism and barbarously incarcerating fiendishness,
The devil unstoppably took pride in frigidly writing; the book of
jejune
mockery and impudently castigating brazenness,
The devil unstoppably took pride in heartlessly writing; the book of
ghastly
bloodshed and indefatigably bombarding politics,
[...] Read more
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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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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Metamorphoses: Book The Seventh
THE Argonauts now stemm'd the foaming tide,
And to Arcadia's shore their course apply'd;
Where sightless Phineus spent his age in grief,
But Boreas' sons engage in his relief;
And those unwelcome guests, the odious race
Of Harpyes, from the monarch's table chase.
With Jason then they greater toils sustain,
And Phasis' slimy banks at last they gain,
Here boldly they demand the golden prize
Of Scythia's king, who sternly thus replies:
That mighty labours they must first o'ercome,
Or sail their Argo thence unfreighted home.
The Story of Meanwhile Medea, seiz'd with fierce desire,
Medea and By reason strives to quench the raging fire;
Jason But strives in vain!- Some God (she said)
withstands,
And reason's baffl'd council countermands.
What unseen Pow'r does this disorder move?
'Tis love,- at least 'tis like, what men call love.
Else wherefore shou'd the king's commands appear
To me too hard?- But so indeed they are.
Why shou'd I for a stranger fear, lest he
Shou'd perish, whom I did but lately see?
His death, or safety, what are they to me?
Wretch, from thy virgin-breast this flame expel,
And soon- Oh cou'd I, all wou'd then be well!
But love, resistless love, my soul invades;
Discretion this, affection that perswades.
I see the right, and I approve it too,
Condemn the wrong- and yet the wrong pursue.
Why, royal maid, shou'dst thou desire to wed
A wanderer, and court a foreign bed?
Thy native land, tho' barb'rous, can present
A bridegroom worth a royal bride's content:
And whether this advent'rer lives, or dies,
In Fate, and Fortune's fickle pleasure lies.
Yet may be live! for to the Pow'rs above,
A virgin, led by no impulse of love,
So just a suit may, for the guiltless, move.
Whom wou'd not Jason's valour, youth and blood
Invite? or cou'd these merits be withstood,
At least his charming person must encline
The hardest heart- I'm sure 'tis so with mine!
Yet, if I help him not, the flaming breath
Of bulls, and earth-born foes, must be his death.
Or, should he through these dangers force his way,
At last he must be made the dragon's prey.
If no remorse for such distress I feel,
I am a tigress, and my breast is steel.
Why do I scruple then to see him slain,
[...] Read more
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,
[...] Read more
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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The Parish Register - Part I: Baptisms
The year revolves, and I again explore
The simple Annals of my Parish poor;
What Infant-members in my flock appear,
What Pairs I bless'd in the departed year;
And who, of Old or Young, or Nymphs or Swains,
Are lost to Life, its pleasures and its pains.
No Muse I ask, before my view to bring
The humble actions of the swains I sing. -
How pass'd the youthful, how the old their days;
Who sank in sloth, and who aspired to praise;
Their tempers, manners, morals, customs, arts,
What parts they had, and how they 'mploy'd their
parts;
By what elated, soothed, seduced, depress'd,
Full well I know-these Records give the rest.
Is there a place, save one the poet sees,
A land of love, of liberty, and ease;
Where labour wearies not, nor cares suppress
Th' eternal flow of rustic happiness;
Where no proud mansion frowns in awful state,
Or keeps the sunshine from the cottage-gate;
Where young and old, intent on pleasure, throng,
And half man's life is holiday and song?
Vain search for scenes like these! no view appears,
By sighs unruffled or unstain'd by tears;
Since vice the world subdued and waters drown'd,
Auburn and Eden can no more be found.
Hence good and evil mixed, but man has skill
And power to part them, when he feels the will!
Toil, care, and patience bless th' abstemious few,
Fear, shame, and want the thoughtless herd pursue.
Behold the Cot! where thrives th' industrious
swain,
Source of his pride, his pleasure, and his gain;
Screen'd from the winter's wind, the sun's last ray
Smiles on the window and prolongs the day;
Projecting thatch the woodbine's branches stop,
And turn their blossoms to the casement's top:
All need requires is in that cot contain'd,
And much that taste untaught and unrestrain'd
Surveys delighted; there she loves to trace,
In one gay picture, all the royal race;
Around the walls are heroes, lovers, kings;
The print that shows them and the verse that sings.
Here the last Louis on his throne is seen,
And there he stands imprison'd, and his Queen;
To these the mother takes her child, and shows
What grateful duty to his God he owes;
[...] Read more
poem by George Crabbe
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My American Dream
Author unknown (sung by dan peek)
Found on heard.
I always thought that I wanted a long, new, shiny cadillac
That a real man wears five hundred dollar suits upon his back
I always thought that I needed a big, old house with a million dollar view
But baby, since we fell in love, all I needed is you
Waking up (waking up) to my american dream
Shes a long haired, blue eyed, country girl
Shes better than a fantasy
Waking up (waking up) to my american dream
And I would not trade the whole wide world
For what she means to me
Shes pretty as the moonlight on the gulf of mexico
And her heart is pure and true as any california gold
I put her on a pedastel like lady liberty
Know there is no finer girl from sea to shining sea
Im waking up (waking up) to my american dream
Shes a long haired, blue eyed, country girl
Shes better than a fantasy
Waking up (waking up) to my american dream
And I would not trade the whole wide world
For what she means to me
Waking up (waking up) to my american dream
Shes a real live, blue eyed, country girl
The best thing Ive ever seen
And I would not trade the whole wide world
For what she means to me
Im waking up (waking up) to my american dream
Im waking up (Im waking up) to my american dream
song performed by America
Added by Lucian Velea
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