God
God I thought you were trying to get to me so I got off the phone.
God come on and talk to me if you’ve got something to say.
God hurry up—you’ve got eternity but I’ve only got a few million lousy minutes.
God I’ve got other people to talk to.
God I’ve got bigger fish to fry if you aren’t telling me anything.
God is this some kind of sinister practical joke?
God either you’ve got a message for me or not.
God leave your message at the beep, I’m not home anymore.
God if you’re stalling for time it’s not working.
God I’m gonna get back on the phone soon, talking to people with something to say.
God this charade is over—it’s the last time you make me think you’re coincidence.
poem by Adam Maruyama
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Related quotes
Oxymoron
Oxymoron:
fresh fish
*********
JBO:
'The beach at Sanibel... an Arlington Cemetery of shells.'
*
Every suffocated or strangled fish is first given
waterboarding sensations.
*
Fishes more frequently than
mammals or birds are cut open
alive, while their eyes watch
the knifing of others and their
gills struggle for absent air.
Fish cannot scream.
Greed for suffocated fish flesh causes seals to be clubbed in Canada, Norway, S Africa etc., dolphins to be knifed in Japan, whales to be murdered by
Norwegian Japanese Icelandic and American Inuit fishermen, bears
to be murdered in Alaska, untold thousands of fishermen to
be lost in tsunamis,700 Bangladesh fishermen lost in just 1 storm, Thai fishermen working for slave wages, tens of millions around
the world to die of stomach cancer, food poisoning etc.**
What's in fish? unreported Mad Fish
Disease, nuclear toxins a million
times more concentrated than in
sea water, AIDS from unprocessed
human waste dumped into
the oceans, hepatitis, anaphylactic shock, ecoli,
and other food poisoning,
throat, stomach and other cancers,
mercury, lead, cadmium, arsenic, pbb's, pcb's, thousands
of carcinogenic industrial waste products, and heavy metal sired
brain damage, pfiesteria (red tide) which poisons the fishes
FISH CAN'T SCREAM, FISH TOXINS, FISH STORIES
Are all anglers stranglers?
Dick Gregory: Eating fish liver oil is like eating the filter out of a car.
[...] Read more
poem by O. Anna Niemus
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The Scripture of the Golden Eternity
1
Did I create that sky? Yes, for, if it was anything other than a conception in my mind I wouldnt have said 'Sky'-That is why I am the golden eternity. There are not two of us here, reader and writer, but one, one golden eternity, One-Which-It-Is, That-Which- Everything-Is.
2
The awakened Buddha to show the way, the chosen Messiah to die in the degradation of sentience, is the golden eternity. One that is what is, the golden eternity, or, God, or, Tathagata-the name. The Named One. The human God. Sentient Godhood. Animate Divine. The Deified One. The Verified One. The Free One. The Liberator. The Still One. The settled One. The Established One. Golden Eternity. All is Well. The Empty One. The Ready One. The Quitter. The Sitter. The Justified One. The Happy One.
3
That sky, if it was anything other than an illusion of my mortal mind I wouldnt have said 'that sky.' Thus I made that sky, I am the golden eternity. I am Mortal Golden Eternity.
4
I was awakened to show the way, chosen to die in the degradation of life, because I am Mortal Golden Eternity.
5
I am the golden eternity in mortal animate form.
6
Strictly speaking, there is no me, because all is emptiness. I am empty, I am non-existent. All is bliss.
7
This truth law has no more reality than the world.
8
You are the golden eternity because there is no me and no you, only one golden eternity.
9
The Realizer. Entertain no imaginations whatever, for the thing is a no-thing. Knowing this then is Human Godhood.
10
This world is the movie of what everything is, it is one movie, made of the same stuff throughout, belonging to nobody, which is what everything is.
11
If we were not all the golden eternity we wouldnt be here. Because we are here we cant help being pure. To tell man to be pure on account of the punishing angel that punishes the bad and the rewarding angel that rewards the good would be like telling the water 'Be Wet'-Never the less, all things depend on supreme reality, which is already established as the record of Karma earned-fate.
12
God is not outside us but is just us, the living and the dead, the never-lived and never-died. That we should learn it only now, is supreme reality, it was written a long time ago in the archives of universal mind, it is already done, there's no more to do.
13
This is the knowledge that sees the golden eternity in all things, which is us, you, me, and which is no longer us, you, me.
14
What name shall we give it which hath no name, the common eternal matter of the mind? If we were to call it essence, some might think it meant perfume, or gold, or honey. It is not even mind. It is not even discussible, groupable into words; it is not even endless, in fact it is not even mysterious or inscrutably inexplicable; it is what is; it is that; it is this. We could easily call the golden eternity 'This.' But 'what's in a name?' asked Shakespeare. The golden eternity by another name would be as sweet. A Tathagata, a God, a Buddha by another name, an Allah, a Sri Krishna, a Coyote, a Brahma, a Mazda, a Messiah, an Amida, an Aremedeia, a Maitreya, a Palalakonuh, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 would be as sweet. The golden eternity is X, the golden eternity is A, the golden eternity is /\, the golden eternity is O, the golden eternity is [ ], the golden eternity is t-h-e-g-o-l-d-e-n-e-t-e-r- n-i-t-y. In the beginning was the word; before the beginning, in the beginningless infinite neverendingness, was the essence. Both the word 'god' and the essence of the word, are emptiness. The form of emptiness which is emptiness having taken the form of form, is what you see and hear and feel right now, and what you taste and smell and think as you read this. Wait awhile, close your eyes, let your breathing stop three seconds or so, listen to the inside silence in the womb of the world, let your hands and nerve-ends drop, re-recognize the bliss you forgot, the emptiness and essence and ecstasy of ever having been and ever to be the golden eternity. This is the lesson you forgot.
15
The lesson was taught long ago in the other world systems that have naturally changed into the empty and awake, and are here now smiling in our smile and scowling in our scowl. It is only like the golden eternity pretending to be smiling and scowling to itself; like a ripple on the smooth ocean of knowing. The fate of humanity is to vanish into the golden eternity, return pouring into its hands which are not hands. The navel shall receive, invert, and take back what'd issued forth; the ring of flesh shall close; the personalities of long dead heroes are blank dirt.
16
The point is we're waiting, not how comfortable we are while waiting. Paleolithic man waited by caves for the realization of why he was there, and hunted; modern men wait in beautified homes and try to forget death and birth. We're waiting for the realization that this is the golden eternity.
17
It came on time.
[...] Read more
poem by Jack Kerouac
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Jubilate Agno: Fragment B, Part 2
LET PETER rejoice with the MOON FISH who keeps up the life in the waters by night.
Let Andrew rejoice with the Whale, who is array'd in beauteous blue and is a combination of bulk and activity.
Let James rejoice with the Skuttle-Fish, who foils his foe by the effusion of his ink.
Let John rejoice with Nautilus who spreads his sail and plies his oar, and the Lord is his pilot.
Let Philip rejoice with Boca, which is a fish that can speak.
Let Bartholomew rejoice with the Eel, who is pure in proportion to where he is found and how he is used.
Let Thomas rejoice with the Sword-Fish, whose aim is perpetual and strength insuperable.
Let Matthew rejoice with Uranoscopus, whose eyes are lifted up to God.
Let James the less, rejoice with the Haddock, who brought the piece of money for the Lord and Peter.
Let Jude bless with the Bream, who is of melancholy from his depth and serenity.
Let Simon rejoice with the Sprat, who is pure and innumerable.
Let Matthias rejoice with the Flying-Fish, who has a part with the birds, and is sublimity in his conceit.
Let Stephen rejoice with Remora -- The Lord remove all obstacles to his glory.
Let Paul rejoice with the Scale, who is pleasant and faithful!, like God's good ENGLISHMAN.
Let Agrippa, which is Agricola, rejoice with Elops, who is a choice fish.
Let Joseph rejoice with the Turbut, whose capture makes the poor fisher-man sing.
Let Mary rejoice with the Maid -- blessed be the name of the immaculate CONCEPTION.
Let John, the Baptist, rejoice with the Salmon -- blessed be the name of the Lord Jesus for infant Baptism.
Let Mark rejoice with the Mullet, who is John Dore, God be gracious to him and his family.
Let Barnabus rejoice with the Herring -- God be gracious to the Lord's fishery.
Let Cleopas rejoice with the Mackerel, who cometh in a shoal after a leader.
Let Abiud of the Lord's line rejoice with Murex, who is good and of a precious tincture.
Let Eliakim rejoice with the Shad, who is contemned in his abundance.
Let Azor rejoice with the Flounder, who is both of the sea and of the river,
Let Sadoc rejoice with the Bleak, who playeth upon the surface in the Sun.
[...] Read more
poem by Christopher Smart
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter CXVI: One in a Million
A million feeling, one story
One feeling, a million story
A million question, one anxiety
One question, a million anxieties
A million smile, one meaning
One smile, a million meaning
A million languages, one will
One language, a million will
A million anger, one reaction
One anger, a million reaction
A million beginning, one ending
One beginning, a million ending
A million face, one heart
One face, a million hearts
A million dream, one happiness
One dream, a million happiness
A million love, one human
One love, a million human
A million trouble, one way
One trouble, a million ways
A million arts, one impression
One art, a million impressions
A million witness, one event
One witness, a million event
A million memories, one fact
One memory, a million facts
A million chance, one choice
One chance, a million choices
A million lives, one hope
One life, a million hope
A million reason, one lie
One reason, a million lie
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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25 Minutes To Go
They're buildin' the gallows outside my cell.
I got 25 minutes to go.
And in 25 minutes I'll be in Hell.
I got 24 minutes to go.
Well, they give me some beans for my last meal.
23 minutes to go.
And you know... nobody asked me how I feel.
I got 22 minutes to go.
So, I wrote to the Gov'nor... the whole damned bunch.
Ahhh... 21 minutes to go.
And I call up the Mayor, and he's out to lunch.
I got 20 more minutes to go.
Well, the Sheriff says, 'Boy, I wanna watch you die'.
19 minutes to go.
I laugh in his face... and I spit in his eye.
I got 18 minutes to go.
Well...I call out to the Warden to hear my plea.
17 minute to go.
He says, 'Call me back in a week or three.
You've got 16 minutes to go.'
Well, my lawyer says he's sorry he missed my case.
Mmmm....15 minutes to go.
Yeah, well if you're so sorry, come up and take my place.
I got 14 minutes to go.
Well, now here comes the padre to save my soul
With 13 minutes to go.
And he's talkin' about burnin', but I'm so damned cold.
I got 12 more minutes to go.
Now they're testin' the trap. It chills my spine.
I got 11 minutes to go.
'Cuz the goddamned thing it works just fine.
I got 10 more minutes to go.
I'm waitin' for the pardon... gonna set me free
[...] Read more
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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That Plant You've Got Needs A Bigger Pot
That plant you've got needs a bigger pot.
It's getting very big and branches out.
It's got to stretch in a bigger pot.
That's what it says to me.
That plant you've got needs a bigger pot.
It's getting very big and branches out.
It's got to stretch in a bigger pot.
That's what it says to me.
'Please, please, please...
I need to grow my leaves! '
That plant you've got needs a bigger pot.
It's getting very big and branches out.
It's got to stretch in a bigger pot.
That's what it says to me.
'Please, please, please...
I need to grow my leaves! '
Get it to a bigger pot,
Before the roots rot.
Get it to a bigger pot,
Before the roots rot.
Get it to a bigger pot,
Before the roots rot.
'Please, please, please...
I need to grow my leaves! '
That plant you've got needs a bigger pot.
It's getting very big and branches out.
It's got to stretch in a bigger pot.
That's what it says to me.
Get it to a bigger pot,
Before the roots rot.
Get it to a bigger pot,
Before the roots rot.
'Please, please, please...
I need to grow my leaves! '
Get it to a bigger pot,
Before the roots rot.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ten Minutes Aint Enough
Ten minutes aint enough,
No!
To have my needs satisfactorily pleased.
Ten minutes aint enough.
Ten minutes aint enough!
Ten minutes aint enough,
No!
To know what I want before it leaves.
Ten minutes aint enough.
Ten minutes aint enough!
There has to be a bit of teased acquaintance.
With a chat that sits.
There has to be a bit of teased acquaintance.
With eyes that are fixed.
And not drifting.
Ten minutes aint enough,
No!
To have my needs satisfactorily pleased.
Ten minutes aint enough.
Ten minutes aint enough!
Ten minutes aint enough,
No!
To know what I want before it leaves.
Ten minutes aint enough.
Ten minutes aint enough!
Some may wish a quick...
Beginning that swiftly ends.
With nothing to explore.
But an exit out a door!
Ten minutes aint enough,
No!
To know what I want before it leaves.
Ten minutes aint enough.
Ten minutes aint enough!
There has to be a bit of teased acquaintance.
With a chat that sits.
There has to be a bit of teased acquaintance.
With eyes that are fixed.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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County Fair
This time each year in our hometown
The county fair comes our way
Where the folks gather round to be happy and spend their day
A-heres what happened now,
I soon decide that Id take with me
The most specialest girl I knew
I had her pack us a lunch and on down the dirt road we flew
(hurry hurry, step right up and win your girl a stuffed koala bear)
[aw, come on nicky. win me a koala bear]
(break the balloon with a dart)
(yes you son, come up here. win your girl a stuffed koala bear)
[oh please win me a koala bear]
(break the balloon with a dart. come on son, step right up)
(get up there, thats a boy)
Right then I knew what I had to do
(hurry, hurry)
Before that day was through
(step right up)
I had to win a stuffed doggie or Id break her poor heart in two
(hurry, hurry)
(win a prize)
A let me tell you now,
I passed up a chance when I walked by a booth
(hurry, hurry)
Where you throw a dart and break a balloon
(step right up)
I snuck by a couple more, but I had to get caught real soon
(hurry, hurry)
(win a prize)
(step right up, test your strength.)
(come on son, ring the bell with the hammer)
[aww, come on muscles]
(win your girl a stuffed koala bear)
[ooohhh]
(come on son, are you a man or a weakling? )
(yes you, step up here and test your strength)
(win your girl a stuffed koala bear)
[come on baby]
(come on son)
I hit the rubber stump just as hard as I could
(hurry, hurry)
But I didnt make it ring the bell
(step right up)
I tried again and again, but I just didnt do so well
(hurry, hurry)
(win a prize)
Can you believe it now,
Up walked a fella and he tapped me on the shoulder, said
(hurry, hurry)
I can win your girl a prize
[...] Read more
song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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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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XI. Guido
You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The 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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VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator
Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!
It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold
Our little yearly lovesome frolic feast,
Cinuolo's birth-night, Cinicello's own,
That makes gruff January grin perforce!
For too contagious grows the mirth, the warmth
Escaping from so many hearts at once—
When the good wife, buxom and bonny yet,
Jokes the hale grandsire,—such are just the sort
To go off suddenly,—he who hides the key
O' the box beneath his pillow every night,—
Which box may hold a parchment (someone thinks)
Will show a scribbled something like a name
"Cinino, Ciniccino," near the end,
"To whom I give and I bequeath my lands,
"Estates, tenements, hereditaments,
"When I decease as honest grandsire ought."
Wherefore—yet this one time again perhaps—
Shan't my Orvieto fuddle his old nose!
Then, uncles, one or the other, well i' the world,
May—drop in, merely?—trudge through rain and wind,
Rather! The smell-feasts rouse them at the hint
There's cookery in a certain dwelling-place!
Gossips, too, each with keepsake in his poke,
Will pick the way, thrid lane by lantern-light,
And so find door, put galligaskin off
At entry of a decent domicile
Cornered in snug Condotti,—all for love,
All to crush cup with Cinucciatolo!
Well,
Let others climb the heights o' the court, the camp!
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Kalevala - Rune V
WAINAVOINEN'S LAMENTATION.
Far and wide the tidings travelled,
Far away men heard the story
Of the flight and death of Aino,
Sister dear of Youkahainen,
Fairest daughter of creation.
Wainamoinen, brave and truthful,
Straightway fell to bitter weeping,
Wept at morning, wept at evening,
Sleepless, wept the dreary night long,
That his Aino had departed,
That the maiden thus had vanished,
Thus had sunk upon the bottom
Of the blue-sea, deep and boundless.
Filled with grief, the ancient singer,
Wainamoinen of the Northland,
Heavy-hearted, sorely weeping,
Hastened to the restless waters,
This the suitor's prayer and question:
'Tell, Untamo, tell me, dreamer,
Tell me, Indolence, thy visions,
Where the water-gods may linger,
Where may rest Wellamo's maidens?'
Then Untamo, thus made answer,
Lazily he told his dreamings:
'Over there, the mermaid-dwellings,
Yonder live Wellamo's maidens,
On the headland robed in verdure,
On the forest-covered island,
In the deep, pellucid waters,
On the purple-colored sea-shore;
Yonder is the home or sea-maids,
There the maidens of Wellamo,
Live there in their sea-side chambers,
Rest within their water-caverns,
On the rocks of rainbow colors,
On the juttings of the sea-cliffs.'
Straightway hastens Wainamoinen
To a boat-house on the sea-shore,
Looks with care upon the fish-hooks,
And the lines he well considers;
Lines, and hooks, and poles, arid fish-nets,
Places in a boat of copper,
Then begins he swiftly rowing
To the forest-covered island,
To the point enrobed In verdure,
To the purple-colored headland,
Where the sea-nymphs live and linger.
[...] Read more
poem by Elias Lönnrot
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30 Minutes
Mama, papa forgive me
Out of sight, out of mind
Out of time to decide
Do we run? should I hide
For the rest of my life
Can we fly? do we stay?
We could lose we could fail
And the more minutes take
To make planer, or mistakes
30 minutes, the blink of the night
30 minutes to alter our lifes
30 minutes to make up my mind
30 minutes to finally decide
30 minutes to whisper your name
30 minutes to shelter the blame
30 minutes of bliss, 30 lies
30 minutes to finally decide
Carousels in the sky
That we shape with our eyes
Under shade silhouettes casting
Shapes crying rain
Can we fly do I stay
We could lose, we could fail
Either way, options change
Chances fail, trains derail.
30 minutes, the blink of the night
30 minutes to all of our lifes
30 minutes to make up my mind
30 minutes to finally decide
30 minutes to whisper your name
30 minutes to show her the blame
30 minutes of bliss, 30 lies
30 minutes to finally decide
To decide, to decide to decide to decide
(repeat until fade)
song performed by Tatu
Added by Lucian Velea
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Few Minutes in the Dark
A few minutes in the dark.
What kind of dark?
No light shining?
Depression?
A reality check?
A few minutes in the dark can change you.
Change you how?
Change your outlook of life?
Change your personality?
Cause you to sin?
A few minutes in the dark is dangerous.
How is it dangerous?
Swallow you up in fear.
Never feel happiness.
No more friends.
No more family.
No more love.
No more life.
No more light.
A few minutes in the dark is scary.
You see the evil in the world with no light.
You lose your light for a few minutes and soul dies.
You lose a person, a loved one, every single second.
You lose sight of them and they're gone forever.
A few minutes in the dark and you cant see anything.
No more things that coused you joy or filled with love.
A few minutes in the dark.
It takes only 30 seconds for a child to be kidnapped.
Then after that, they fall to the darkness.
Soul burned out, and love gone.
Another life fallen to the darkness.
A few minutes in the dark.
When you left the light, there is no turning back.
A few minutes in the dark, and you lose sight.
Lose sight of the light.
See what happens in the dark?
A few minutes in the dark.
Causes death.
A breakup between lovers and one points a gun to their head.
A few minutes in the dark and you die.
The light will be sealed from you along memories.
Memories of light and love.
The two things the dark can never have.
Light and love.
[...] Read more
poem by Natalie Vail
Added by Poetry Lover
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Do The Sinister
Come on into my mind, into my heart,
into my thoughts and into my soul
Come on into your mind, into your heart,
into your thoughts and into your soul-do the sinister
Chorus 1:
Come on come one come on do the sinister come on
come on come on hey hey hey
Chorus 2:
The minister is getting sinister the minister of the sinister-
you're messing with
The minister of the sinister the minister is getting sinister
Why you always bugging-what you want with me
Why you always tripping-just you let me be
Ain't no point in knocking-ain't nobody home
Ain't no point in talking-just leave me alone!
Chorus 1 & 2
Into the mind, into the heart, into the thought, into the soul
Out of the mind, out of the heart, out of the thought, and out of the soul
Why you always bugging-what you want with my
Why you always tripping-just you let me be
Ain't no point in knocking-ain't nobody home
Ain't no point in talking-just leave me alone!
Sin sin ha! ha! come on sin sin do the sinister
Sinister surf mind raid
Cyco surf min raid
What I want I do it
What I need I take it
If I want I'll do you, you been warned
What you want won't happen
What you know don't matter
What you feel I give it right here and right now
Right here and right now
Right here and right now
Right here and right now
Do the sinister
song performed by Infectious Grooves
Added by Lucian Velea
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V. Count Guido Franceschini
Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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911 Is A Joke
Now I dialed nine one one a long time ago
Dont you see how late theyre reactin
They only come, and they come when they wanna
So get the morgue truck em back the goner
They dont care cause they stay paid anyway
They treat you like an ace that cant be betrayed
I know you stumble with no use people
If your life is on the line, then youre dead today
Late comings with the late comin stretcher -
Thats a body bag in disguise - yall Ill betcha
I call em body snatchers
Quick they come to fetch you -
With an autopsy ambulance just to dissect ya
They are the kings cos they swing amputation
Lose your arms your legs the famous compilation
I can prove it to you watch the rotation
It all adds up to a funky situation
Get up, get get down
911 is a joke in yo town
Get up, get get down
Late 911 wears the late crown
(chorus)
(ow)
911 is a joke , 911 is a joke
Everyday they dont never come correct
You can ask my man right here with the broken neck
Hes a witness to the job never bein done
He wouldve been in full effect , 911
Is a joke because their always jokin
They the token to your life when its croakin
They need to be in a pawn shop on a 911 -
Is a joke we dont want em
I call a cab cause a cab will come quicker
The doctors huddle up and call a flea flicker
The reason that I say that cause they
Flick you off like fleas
They be laughin at ya while youre crawlin on our knees
And to the strength, so go the length
Thinkin you are first when you really are tenth
You better wake up and smell the real flavor
Cause 911 is a fake life saver
(chorus) (chorus)
Ow, ow 911 is a joke
911 is a joke,
911 is a joke,
911 is a joke, 911 is a joke.
(get up, get get down)
911 is a joke, 911 is a joke, 911 is a joke
(get up, get get down)
911 is a joke, 911 is a joke, 911 is a joke
[...] Read more
song performed by Duran Duran
Added by Lucian Velea
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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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Carny Town
(words & music by wise - starr)
Aha-ha hurry, hurry step this way
Aha-ha hurry, hurry step this way
Now the show youre going to see is strictly high class
Therell be ten hoola dancers shaking their grass
So step right up and put your money down
This way to carny town
We got a man so skinny you can see his bones
We play on his ribs like a xylophone
With a pair of spoons we get a rockin song
Youll hear it all, in carny town
Hurry, hurry, hurry, the house is almost full
We got a two headed cow and thats no bull
Theres a man who swallows swords and he never gets hurt
He eats razor blades for dessert
Hes just about the sharpest guy around
Youll see him here, in carny town
Aha-ha hurry, hurry step this way
Aha-ha hurry, hurry step this way
Aha-ha hurry, hurry step this way
Aha-ha hurry, hurry step this way
Aha-ha I say were gonna win
I said hurry up
song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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