Black Eyes
I Saw these black eyes in my Dreams.
They told me their whole history.
Who is it who belongs to these black eyes?
And this history of centuries?
poem by Amy Jill Riley
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Evrything Ive Got
Verse 1
Dont stamp your foot at me,
Its impolite
To stamp your foot at me
Is not quite right.
At mans ingratitude
A woman winks,
But such an attitude just stinks.
Refrain 1
I have eyes for you to give you dirty looks.
I have words that do not come from childrens books
Theres a trick with a knife Im learning to do
And evrything Ive got belongs to you.
Ive a powerful anesthesia in my fist,
And the perfect wrist to give your neck atwist.
There are hammerlock holds,
Ive mastered a few,
And evrything Ive got belongs to you.
Share for share, share alike,
You get struck each time I strike.
You for me- me for me-
Ill give you plenty of nothing.
Im not yours for better but for worse,
And Ive learned to give the well-known witches curse.
Ive a terrible tongue, a temper for two,
And evrything Ive got belongs to you.
Verse 2
Dont raise your voice at me,
Thats very rude.
To raise your voice at me
Is rather crude.
Its wrong essentially when woman yells,
And confidentially, it smells.
Refrain 2
Ill converse with you on politics at length,
Ill protect you with my superhuman strength.
If youre ever attacked Ill scream and say , boo!
And evrything Ive got belongs to you.
I will never stray from home, Ill just stay put,
cause Ive got a brand-new thing called athlete s foot.
Im a victim of colds, anemia, too,
And evrything Ive got belongs to you.
Off to bed we will creep,
Then well sleep and sleep and sleep
Till the birds start to peep.
Ill give you plenty of nothing.
Ill be yours forever and a day
If the first good breeze does not blow me away.
Youre enough for one man, thats why Ill be true,
And evrything Ive got belongs to you.
[...] Read more
song performed by Ella Fitzgerald
Added by Lucian Velea
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The House Of Dust: Complete
I.
The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.
And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.
'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.
We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .
Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.
Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.
Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.
II.
[...] Read more
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Black History
Boom, boom, boom!
That was in 1530 to the Slave Trade;
My Mama told me so,
My Papa told me so,
In the name of our ancestors gone by;
Slaves for arms,
Slaves for powder,
Slaves for hardware,
Slaves for spirits;
Boom, boom, boom! !
All over the West Coast of Africa!
Today, i am a Blackman to tell you a story.
Black History, the Black African, the Black Race;
Of my ancestors gone by,
Boom, boom, boom!
Black head, black sugar, black coffee;
Where are the true identities of the Blacks?
That was in 1530 to the Slave trade.
Black History, black love;
A Black Race to a call.
Tap your fingers and do think about it,
My Mama told me so;
Bllack shoes, black phones;
With the Black History gone too soon,
My Papa told me so.
Black hair, black eyes;
The black coal to steam up the engines!
In the name of my ancestors gone by;
But, where are the black pens of love to share?
Do think about this and learn from it,
Boom, boom, boom!
A Blackman in the house to tell us a story;
Where is William Wilberforce?
Where is Thomas Buxton?
Where is Granville Sharp?
What about the Slaves? !
These men need to tell us more;
They killed my ancestors softly without compensations!
Black love, black stream, a black home to live in;
Like 'Naughty By Nature',
I've got 'Queen Latifah' to tell us more.
Of the Black Songs,
Of the Black race,
With a Black-Limo to keep us going;
This Slave Trade was a Black History to us all.
Boom, boom, boom!
[...] Read more
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi
Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Bacause The Night
Take me now, baby, here as I am
Hold me close, and try and understand
Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe
Love is a banquet on which we feed
Come on now, try and understand
The way I feel under your command
Take my hand, as the sun descends
They can't hurt you now can't hurt you now, can't hurt you now
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to us
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to us
Have I a doubt, baby, when I'm alone
Love is a ring a telephone
Love is an angel, disguised as lust
Here in our bed 'til the morning comes
Come on now, try and understand
The way I feel under your command
Take my hand, as the sun descends
They can't hurt you now, can't hurt you now, can't hurt you now
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to us
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to us
With love we sleep,
with doubt the vicious circle turns, and burns
Without you, oh I cannot live,
forgive the yearning burning
I believe it's time to heal to feel,
so take me now, take me now, take me now
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to us
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to us
song performed by 10000 Maniacs
Added by Lucian Velea
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Because The Night
[ springsteen/smith ]
Take me now, baby, here as I am
Hold me close, try and understand
Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe
Love is a banquet on which we feed
Come on now, try and understand
The way I feel under your command
Take my hand, come under cover
They cant hurt you now
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to lust
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to us
Have I doubt, baby, when Im alone
Love is a ring on the telephone
Love is an angel, disguised as lust
Here in our bed til the morning comes
Come on now, try and understand
The way I feel under your command
Take my hand, come under cover
They cant hurt you now
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to lust
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to us
With love we sleep, with doubt the vicious circle turns, and burns
Without you, I cannot live, forgive the yearning burning
I believe in love too real to feel, take me now, take me now, take me now
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to lust
Because the night belongs to lovers
Because the night belongs to us
song performed by 10000 Maniacs
Added by Lucian Velea
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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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Dreamworks
DREAMWORKS
Eyes saw reflection Monday, when World War II was won,
emerging, letters learning, to betters bowed, begun
a journey spread like butter upon life’s bread, which seems
to be about to stutter before landlord of dreams.
Eye Tuesday schooled, life's masquerade began to understand
how letters strung together rung bells brain took in hand,
soft strength no bitter toil required to channel patterned streams,
blood flood no rudder needed to feed forever's dreams.
Eyes which advanced one Wednesday upon emotions’ tide
to woo, to win, together, as groom to beauty bride,
felt joys would last for ever, like strawberries and cream,
tapped hope's sap, never'd sever eternity from dreams.
Eyes which in turn one Thursday sired fruit so well desired,
who queried much, yet stayed untouched by vain ambitions tired,
felt feelings frank, not clever, that seek 'together's' gleams,
to sow, reap, harvest, gather the essence of shared dreams.
Eyes which Friday celebrate, see seed to stripling strong
stretch skywards, never hesitate, sift just from wrong's pronged tongs,
subjective views eliminate, zest tests through searchlight beams,
shows all may know glow grows, fair flows, to feed tomorrow’s dreams.
Eyes weary on this Saturday sense Winter drawing near,
reach through rhyme’s interplay to transmit loud and clear
before Time’s ‘weak~end’ weather may ravage, mock soul’s gleams,
this theme: ~ that one should never compromise on dreams.
Eyes which one Sunday may pass away, life legacy would leave:
ideals unbetrayed, pray none know poison, prison, grieve.
Life's cycle turns as candle burns, warms all within its beams, ~
road cats' eyes snake, make no mistake, tomorrow takes your dreams...
9 May 2005 minor modifications 21 April 2008 revised 30 April 2008,8 March 2011
for previous versions see below
DREAMWORKS
Eyes saw first light one Monday, when World War II was won,
emerging, letters learning, to betters bowed, begun
a journey spread like butter upon life’s bread, which seems
to be about to stutter before landlord of dreams.
Eyes which were schooled one Tuesday began to understand
how letters strung together rung bells brain took in hand,
soft strength no conscious effort to channel patterned streams
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Narrative And Dramatic The Wanderings Of Oisin
BOOK I
S. Patrick. You who are bent, and bald, and blind,
With a heavy heart and a wandering mind,
Have known three centuries, poets sing,
Of dalliance with a demon thing.
Oisin. Sad to remember, sick with years,
The swift innumerable spears,
The horsemen with their floating hair,
And bowls of barley, honey, and wine,
Those merry couples dancing in tune,
And the white body that lay by mine;
But the tale, though words be lighter than air.
Must live to be old like the wandering moon.
Caoilte, and Conan, and Finn were there,
When we followed a deer with our baying hounds.
With Bran, Sceolan, and Lomair,
And passing the Firbolgs' burial-motmds,
Came to the cairn-heaped grassy hill
Where passionate Maeve is stony-still;
And found On the dove-grey edge of the sea
A pearl-pale, high-born lady, who rode
On a horse with bridle of findrinny;
And like a sunset were her lips,
A stormy sunset on doomed ships;
A citron colour gloomed in her hair,
But down to her feet white vesture flowed,
And with the glimmering crimson glowed
Of many a figured embroidery;
And it was bound with a pearl-pale shell
That wavered like the summer streams,
As her soft bosom rose and fell.
S. Patrick. You are still wrecked among heathen dreams.
Oisin. 'Why do you wind no horn?' she said
'And every hero droop his head?
The hornless deer is not more sad
That many a peaceful moment had,
More sleek than any granary mouse,
In his own leafy forest house
Among the waving fields of fern:
The hunting of heroes should be glad.'
'O pleasant woman,' answered Finn,
'We think on Oscar's pencilled urn,
And on the heroes lying slain
[...] Read more
poem by William Butler Yeats
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The City of Dreadful Night
Per me si va nella citta dolente.
--Dante
Poi di tanto adoprar, di tanti moti
D'ogni celeste, ogni terrena cosa,
Girando senza posa,
Per tornar sempre la donde son mosse;
Uso alcuno, alcun frutto
Indovinar non so.
Sola nel mondo eterna, a cui si volve
Ogni creata cosa,
In te, morte, si posa
Nostra ignuda natura;
Lieta no, ma sicura
Dell' antico dolor . . .
Pero ch' esser beato
Nega ai mortali e nega a' morti il fato.
--Leopardi
PROEM
Lo, thus, as prostrate, "In the dust I write
My heart's deep languor and my soul's sad tears."
Yet why evoke the spectres of black night
To blot the sunshine of exultant years?
Why disinter dead faith from mouldering hidden?
Why break the seals of mute despair unbidden,
And wail life's discords into careless ears?
Because a cold rage seizes one at whiles
To show the bitter old and wrinkled truth
Stripped naked of all vesture that beguiles,
False dreams, false hopes, false masks and modes of youth;
Because it gives some sense of power and passion
In helpless innocence to try to fashion
Our woe in living words howe'er uncouth.
Surely I write not for the hopeful young,
Or those who deem their happiness of worth,
Or such as pasture and grow fat among
The shows of life and feel nor doubt nor dearth,
Or pious spirits with a God above them
To sanctify and glorify and love them,
Or sages who foresee a heaven on earth.
For none of these I write, and none of these
Could read the writing if they deigned to try;
[...] Read more
poem by James Thomson
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Roni
The truth about Roni, she? a sweet little girl
You could treat her nice real and hold her tight
Only tenderonis can give special love
A special kind of love that makes you feel good inside
If you believe in love and all that it can do for you
Give it a chance, girl, you?l find romance
And if you find a tenderoni that is right for you
Make it official, give her your love
My heart (Woo) belongs to tenderoni (She? my only love)
She? my only love (My only heart, baby)
My heart (Yeah) belongs to tenderoni (She? my only love)
She? my only love
The truth about Roni, she? always on the phone
Talkinto her homeboy, wishinthey were home alone, ooh
She send you lovely letters with the smell of sweet perfume
This is what a real tenderoni likes to do to you
And if you believe in love and all that it can do for you
Give it a chance, girl, you?l find romance
And if you find a tenderoni that is right for you
Make it official, give her your love, ooh, yeah
My heart belongs to tenderoni (She? my only love)
She? my only love (My only heart)
My heart belongs to tenderoni (She? my only love)
She? my only love
The truth about Roni, she? a sweet olgirl
About the sweetest little girl in the whole wide world
She?l make the toughest homeboy fall deep in love
Said once you had a Roni you will never give her up
She? a special kind of girl that makes her daddy feel proud
You know the kinda girl that stands out in crowds
Found a tenderoni and the Roni is so right
I think I? gonna love her for the rest of my life
If you believe in love and all that it can do for you
And if you find a tenderoni that is right for you
Make it official, give her your love, ooh, yeah
My heart belongs to tenderoni (She? my only lover)
She? my only love (My only heart)
My heart belongs to tenderoni (She? my only love)
She? my only love
The truth about Roni, she? a sweet olgirl
About the sweetest little girl in the whole wide world
She?l make the toughest homeboy fall deep in love
Said once you had a Roni you will never give her up
She? a special kind of girl that makes her daddy feel proud
You know the kinda girl that stands out in crowds
Found a tenderoni and the Roni is so right
I think I? gonna love her for the rest of my life
My heart belongs to tenderoni
She? my only love (My only heart)
My heart belongs to tenderoni (She? my only love)
[...] Read more
song performed by Usher
Added by Lucian Velea
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VII. Pompilia
I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.
All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.
Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Queen In The Black
Excuse me please your majesty
I chance this moment nervously
To share with you a fantasy
That I have lived inside of me
And it is so pretty
And it is so fine
Its the kind youd love to last you
Until the end of time
Weve talked of love, weve talked of life
And what would make the world so nice
Weve walked the sand by lovers sea
Ive held your body close to me
And it is so pretty
How Id love to know
For if I had a chance to hold you
Id never let you go
Youre my queen in the black
With your time-stopping body
Queen in the black
With your eyes that hypnotize, girl
Queen in the black
With your voice thats sweet as candy
Queen in the black
Miss ebony, you really turn me on
Theres not a day that passes by
That I dont have you on my mind
If this aint love I have inside
Then my hearts telling me a lie
Cause it feels so special
And it feels so right
And if I could I know Id love you
For the rest of my life
Youre my queen in the black
With your time-stopping body
Queen in the black
With your eyes that hypnotize, girl
Queen in the black
With your voice thats sweet as candy
Queen in the black
With your soft and sexy lips, babe
Queen in the black
I love the way you move your body
Queen in the black
You know you are nothing less than royalty
Queen in the black
Oh, Ill place you on a throne, girl
Queen in the black
Miss ebony, you really turn me on
Queen in the black
With your time-stopping body
[...] Read more
song performed by Stevie Wonder
Added by Lucian Velea
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Joseph’s Dreams and Reuben's Brethren [A Recital in Six Chapters]
CHAPTER I
I cannot blame old Israel yet,
For I am not a sage—
I shall not know until I get
The son of my old age.
The mysteries of this Vale of Tears
We will perchance explain
When we have lived a thousand years
And died and come again.
No doubt old Jacob acted mean
Towards his father’s son;
But other hands were none too clean,
When all is said and done.
There were some things that had to be
In those old days, ’tis true—
But with old Jacob’s history
This tale has nought to do.
(They had to keep the birth-rate up,
And populate the land—
They did it, too, by simple means
That we can’t understand.
The Patriarchs’ way of fixing things
Would make an awful row,
And Sarah’s plain, straightforward plan
Would never answer now.)
his is a tale of simple men
And one precocious boy—
A spoilt kid, and, as usual,
His father’s hope and joy
(It mostly is the way in which
The younger sons behave
That brings the old man’s grey hairs down
In sorrow to the grave.)
Old Jacob loved the whelp, and made,
While meaning to be kind,
A coat of many colours that
Would strike a nigger blind!
It struck the brethren green, ’twas said—
I’d take a pinch of salt
Their coats had coloured patches too—
But that was not their fault.
Young Joseph had a soft thing on,
And, humbugged from his birth,
You may depend he worked the thing
For all that it was worth.
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Lawson
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[9] O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
[LOVE POEMS]
POET: MAHENDRA BHATNAGAR
POEMS
1 Passion And Compassion / 1
2 Affection
3 Willing To Live
4 Passion And Compassion / 2
5 Boon
6 Remembrance
7 Pretext
8 To A Distant Person
9 Perception
10 Conclusion
10 You (1)
11 Symbol
12 You (2)
13 In Vain
14 One Night
15 Suddenly
16 Meeting
17 Touch
18 Face To Face
19 Co-Traveller
20 Once And Once only
21 Touchstone
22 In Chorus
23 Good Omens
24 Even Then
25 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (1)
26 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (2)
27 Life Aspirant
28 To The Condemned Woman
29 A Submission
30 At Midday
31 I Accept
32 Who Are You?
33 Solicitation
34 Accept Me
35 Again After Ages …
36 Day-Dreaming
37 Who Are You?
38 You Embellished In Song
[...] Read more
poem by Mahendra Bhatnagar
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The Light Of The Moon (Belongs To Me)
Written by Steve Byrd, Ricki & Kim Wilde
(Light of the moon...)
You can't touch it
It won't let you near
You can't hold it
Cos it will disappear
You can't keep it
It don't belong to you
And when you need it
There's nothing you can do
Love has the final word
You're a fool if you can't see
But I know that the light of the moon
Belongs to me
Not the warmth of the sun
Caress of the breeze
Not the sound of the wind
As it blows through the trees
But the light of the moon
Belongs to me
Not the warmth of your smile
Caress of your hand
Not the love that you give me
Again and again
But the light of the moon
Belongs to me
So many people forget it
Set love free
Love is a river
Love is a raging sea
Don't try to tame it
Or you will watch it die
Don't try to chain it
You've got to let it fly
Love has the final word
You're a fool if you can't see
But I know that the light of the moon
Belongs to me
Not the warmth of the sun
Caress of the breeze
Not the sound of the wind
As it blows through the trees
But the light of the moon
Belongs to me
Not the warmth of your smile
Caress of your hand
Not the love that you give me
Again and again
But the light of the moon
Belongs to me
[...] Read more
song performed by Kim Wilde
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Light Of The Moon
Written by steve byrd, ricki & kim wilde
(light of the moon...)
You can't touch it
It won't let you near
You can't hold it
Cos it will disappear
You can't keep it
It don't belong to you
And when you need it
There's nothing you can do
Love has the final word
You're a fool if you can't see
But i know that the light of the moon
Belongs to me
Not the warmth of the sun
Caress of the breeze
Not the sound of the wind
As it blows through the trees
But the light of the moon
Belongs to me
Not the warmth of your smile
Caress of your hand
Not the love that you give me
Again and again
But the light of the moon
Belongs to me
So many people forget it
Set love free
Love is a river
Love is a raging sea
Don't try to tame it
Or you will watch it die
Don't try to chain it
You've got to let it fly
Love has the final word
You're a fool if you can't see
But i know that the light of the moon
Belongs to me
Not the warmth of the sun
Caress of the breeze
Not the sound of the wind
As it blows through the trees
But the light of the moon
Belongs to me
Not the warmth of your smile
Caress of your hand
Not the love that you give me
Again and again
But the light of the moon
Belongs to me
[...] Read more
song performed by Kim Wilde
Added by Lucian Velea
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Your Southern Can Is Mine
Lookie here momma let me explain ya this
If ya wanna get crooked ill even give ya my fist
Ya might read from revelation back to genesis
Ya keep forgetten your southern can belongs to me
So there aint no use in bringin no jive to me
Your southern can is mine in the mornin
Your southern can belongs to me
Ya might go uptown have me arrested, put in jail
Some hotshots got money gonna pull my bail
Soon as i get out, hit the ground
Your southern can is worth a thousand, half a pound
So there aint no use in bringin no jive to me
Your southern can is mine, talkin about it
Your southern can belongs to me
Ya might take it from the south, baby, hide it up north
Understand ya cant rule me and be my boss
Take it from the east and hide in the west
But when i get ya momma your canll see no rest
So there aint no use in bringin no jive to me
Your southern can is mine, im screamin
Your southern can belongs to me
Now baby, ashes to ashes, sand to sand
When i hit ya momma then ya feel my hand
Give ya punch through that barbed wire fence
When i hit ya baby, ya know i make no sence
So there aint no use in bringin no jive to me
Your southern can is mine, i know it
Your southern can belongs to me
Now look here woman, dont get hot
Im gettin me a brick outta my backyard
So there aint no use in bringin no jive to me
Your southern can is mine, im takin about it
Your southern can belongs to me
Well if i catch you momma down in the heart of town
Im gonna grab me a brick and tear your can on down
So there aint no use in bringin no jive to me
Your southern can is mine, i know it
Your southern can belongs to me
You maybe get bed sick, cause youre graveyard bound
Im gonna make you moan like a graveyard hound
So there aint no use in bringin no jive to me
Your southern can is mine, im screamin
Your southern can belongs to me
song performed by White Stripes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tom Zart's 52 Best Of The Rest America At War Poems
SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF WORLD WAR III
The White House
Washington
Tom Zart's Poems
March 16,2007
Ms. Lillian Cauldwell
President and Chief Executive Officer
Passionate Internet Voices Radio
Ann Arbor Michigan
Dear Lillian:
Number 41 passed on the CDs from Tom Zart. Thank you for thinking of me. I am thankful for your efforts to honor our brave military personnel and their families. America owes these courageous men and women a debt of gratitude, and I am honored to be the commander in chief of the greatest force for freedom in the history of the world.
Best Wishes.
Sincerely,
George W. Bush
SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF WORLD WAR III
Our sons and daughters serve in harm's way
To defend our way of life.
Some are students, some grandparents
Many a husband or wife.
They face great odds without complaint
Gambling life and limb for little pay.
So far away from all they love
Fight our soldiers for whom we pray.
The plotters and planners of America's doom
Pledge to murder and maim all they can.
From early childhood they are taught
To kill is to become a man.
They exploit their young as weapons of choice
Teaching in heaven, virgins will await.
Destroying lives along with their own
To learn of their falsehoods too late.
The fearful cry we must submit
And find a way to soothe them.
Where defenders worry if we stand down
The future for America is grim.
[...] Read more
poem by Tom Zart
Added by Poetry Lover
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I Thought I Told You That (feat. Faith Evans)
Theres a boy that Im into, hes so fly, so cute
I dreamt of, him every night, he had me, on cloud nine
Thought I could trust him, why?, he said to me when I needed him
He was there for me, then I found out he did the same
For every girl, with a pretty face
I just wanted to believe that
He was so innocent, so sweet
He did everything for me and
People told me all along, he was wrong
But I was so naive
Dont let him do to you what he did to me
Thought I told you that, he would break your heart
He was no good for you, from the start
Thought I told you that, he had another girl
Youre not the only woman in his world
Thought I told you that, he would make you cry
I dont see how you believe his lie
Thought I told you that, I hate to say that I told you so
Take it from me, you better leave him alone
He played me the whole time, thats why Im warning you
Im not the jealous type
cause Ive already been there done that
And nothing that he says will make me want him back
It does matter what he sends me
A dozen flowers or a diamond thats bling bling
Its all good but Im not the one to be staying home while hes having fun
I just wanted to believe that
He was so innocent, so sweet
He did everything for me and
People told me all along, he was wrong
But I was so naive
Dont let him do to you what he did to me
Thought I told you that, he would break your heart
He was no good for you, from the start
Thought I told you that, he had another girl
Youre not the only woman in his world
Thought i told you that, he would make you cry
I dont see how you believe his lie
Thought I told you that, I hate to say that I told you so
Take it from me, you better leave him alone
Girlfriend, Im just trying to make you see
That its not about you, its not about me
You cant let him get the best of you this way
You gotta love yourself and just walk away
Thought I told you that, he would break your heart
He was no good for you, from the start
Thought I told you that, he had another girl
Youre not the only woman in his world
Thought I told you that, he would make you cry
I dont see how you believe his lie
[...] Read more
song performed by Anastacia
Added by Lucian Velea
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