Innocence Gone
innocence gone
given away
to the one
i loved who
has now
walked away
innocent me
to trust you so
with my
innocence
poem by Graham Russell
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Related quotes
Innocent World
I used to live in an innocent world
I had a car and a pretty blond girlfriend
We was too young to know what we were doing
And anyway I was just fooling around
Innocent innocent innocent world
Innocent innocent innocent world
Innocent innocent innocent world
With a cute little monkey on my back
And a total disregard for the facts
Id run away and never get back
From my innocent world
There aint no reason to tell no lie
When youre young and youve got a lot of pie
Now I slink around like a killer
The things they say are just a lot of filler
In my mind, in my mind
Innocent innocent innocent world
Innocent innocent innocent world
Innocent innocent innocent world
Running, laughing in the sun
And always having lots of fun
Smoking dope and just being young
In my innocent world
Innocent innocent innocent world
Innocent innocent innocent world
Innocent innocent innocent world
With a cute little monkey on my back
And a total disregard for the facts
Id run away and never get back
From my innocent world
Innocent innocent innocent world
Innocent innocent innocent world
Innocent innocent innocent world
Innocent innocent innocent world
song performed by Iggy Pop
Added by Lucian Velea
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Trust Trust
Trust trust many have found
Trust trust no where around
Trust trust is what many say
Trust trust here i lay
Trust trust in my ear
Trust trust i cant find you my dear
Trust trust is hard to find
Trust trust are you apart of mankind
Trust trust im calling to you
Trust trust please give me a clue
Trust trust i need my love
Trust trust she came from up above
Trust trust what do i do
Trust trust do i believe my boo
Trust trust am i right
Trust trust please show me the light
Trust trust your driving me crazy
Trust trust your just to hazy
Trust trust i will find you
Trust trust i will never find anew
Trust trust help me out
Trust trust cause with this love i dont want to wipeout
Trust trust sarah's is my heart
Trust trust she's a beauty of art
poem by Cody Fortner
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Loved
Loved
Written by Ricky Wilde & Terry Ronald
Take all your goodness and shiness away
I'll tell you the things I've been longing to say
I'll break it to you just so you understand
The force and control that you hold in your hands
Make me the beat of your heart
Then fall into mine
One step at a time
You have no reason for doubting your feelings
Love isn't always the same
You are loved
You are loved
You are loved
You I love
You
You are loved
You are loved
You are loved
You I love
You
(Ooh you are loved)
Live for the moment according to you
And so when the time comes you know what to do
Trust me, I'm giving no secret away
I'm drowning in you but I want it that way
Make me the beat of your heart
Then fall into mine
One step at a time
You have no reason for doubting your feelings
Love isn't always the same
You are loved
You are loved
You are loved
You I love
You
You are loved
You are loved
You are loved
You I love
You
You are loved
(Ooh you are loved)
You are loved
You are loved
You I love
You
You are loved
(Ooh you are loved)
You are loved
[...] Read more
song performed by Kim Wilde
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My Innocence Killed Me
INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE OH WHY DO I CRY? INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE WHERE IS THE TRUTH OVER THE LIE? INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE CAN THE GROUND KEEP ME DOWN? INNOCENCE OH INNOCENCE, WHO KEEPS PULLING YOU DOWN?
FAIL TO THE SYSTEM MY INNOCENCE WAS TAKING AWAY
I WISH FOR IT BACK EACH AND EVERY DAY
AS I LIE SMOTHERED UNDERGROUND
I COULD HAVE SURVIVED IF INNOCENCE WOULD HAVE STAYED AROUND
MY SHELTER, MY GROUND, AND ALSO MY ROOF
WHICH WAS DESIGNED ONLY TO PROTECT MY PROOF
EVIDENCE IS SUBMITTED ONLY TO HELP
WHEN I TURNED TO LOOK INTO YOUR EYES YOU LEFT
SEEKING WEALTH
ONLY TO LEAVE ME INSIDE AN EMPTY CHAMBER
FILLED WITH SO MUCH MAINLY ANGER
MY DISAPPOINTMENT IS PERCEIVED AS RAGE
IT'S JUST A CRAZE
TO BE TAKEN OUT OF MY MISERY RELEASED FROM THIS CAGE
INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE OH WHY I CRY? INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE WHERE IS THE TRUTH OVER THE LIE? INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE CAN THE GREED KEEP ME DOWN? INNOCENCE OH INNOCENCE, WHO KEEPS PULLING YOU DOWN?
NEGATIVE INTERIOR EMOTIONALLY INFERIOR
WHY DOES MY FREEDOM HAVE TO BE DESTROYED OVER MATERIAL?
LOOKING AT INNOCENCE AND IT SEEMS SO STRANGE.
LOOKING AT MY SITUATION AND REALIZING NOTHING WILL CHANGE.
PURE INJUSTICE TRAIL IS NOT THE SAME.
TAKING MENTAL PICTURES PLACING THEM INSIDE A FRAME.
WHEN THEY ENTER HELL HOPELY THEY BURN IN FLAMES.
I WILL NEVER BE THE SAME.
TO DEATH WHAT IS GAIN?
TO BONDAGE WHAT IS A CHAIN?
INNOCENCE WAS SLAINED AS THEY SCREAMED OUT MY NAME I'M ASKING FOR CHANGE GOT DEATH IN EXCHANGE PARDON MY SCREAM AND KICKS FORGET ABOUT MY INNOCENCE FREEDOM INVOLVE TRICKS AND I CAN'T HELP BUT LAUGH MY INNOCENCE IS THE ONLY REASON I GOT STABBED ON THIS SLAB AS I'M SLICED IN HALF REACHING FOR THE INNOCENCE THAT I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO GRAB YELLING OUT SO UNJUST VOICE YELLS OUT HUSH AND RUSH INTO MY EMBRACE AS THEY REVIVE MY SPIRIT AND TOUCH MY FACE. IS IT GOD OR INNOCENCE THAT I CHASE?
INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE WHY DO I CRY? INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE WHERE IS THE TRUTH OVER THE LIE? INNOCENCE, INNOCENCE CAN GREED KEEP ME DOWN?
INNOCENCE OH INNOCENCE, WHO KEEPS PULLING YOU DOWN.
poem by Courtney Steele
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Hold On Lynette The Horses Are Coming
Lynette was a beautiful baby
A true joy to her ma and pa
Free from oriningal sin she was
The whole family was in awe
She was loved loved loved
She was loved loved loved
One day she woke with fever
There was snow and wind and cold
The car was stuck at the end of the drive
To the doctor they could not go
She was loved loved loved
She was loved loved loved
Quick hook-up the team and the sleigh
By horse she'll surely make it
Hold on Lynette the horses are coming
Let's take some time to say how much we love you
She was loved loved loved
She was loved loved loved
Manes a flyin' tales a whippin'
The horse's plowed right through
Muscles a bulgin' and hides a sweating
Let's take some time to say how much we love you
She was loved loved loved
She was loved loved loved
Well by horse they surely made it
By horse they surely did
Just in time to tell them
There was nothing they could do for her
She was loved loved loved
She was loved loved loved
She was loved loved loved
She was loved loved loved
Well, for all those ma's and pa's out there
Who've lost their little ones
This songs not about a child dying
It's of a parent's love
One day on earth is just the same
as one year or fifty or a hundred
The only difference my friends
[...] Read more
poem by Atty Davis
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The greatest sin
Having supremely spell binding eyes was simply not a sin at all; but
pretending that you were gruesomely blind; unable to see a step
further even after possessing them right since innocent childhood;
was the greatest sin,
Having robust complexioned feet was simply not a sin at all; but
pretending that you couldn't walk even an inch forward; had not the
slightest of capacity to run even after possessing them right since
innocent childhood; was the greatest sin,
Having tenaciously knotted fingers projecting from the palm was
simply not a sin at all; but pretending that you had grave difficulty
in hoisting objects; didn't posses the most minuscule of power to
defend yourself even after possessing them right since innocent
childhood; was the greatest sin,
Having dangling earlobes delectably cascading from the periphery of
your rubicund cheek was simply not a sin at all; but pretending that
you couldn't bear the tiniest of sound; floundered miserably to
decipher the intricacy of voice even after possessing them right
since innocent childhood; was the greatest sin,
Having a perfectly throbbing heart palpitating in marvellous
synchrony inside your chest was simply not a sin at all; but
pretending that you just didn't have the power to love; the virtue to
embrace other humans of your kind even after possessing it right
since innocent childhood; was the greatest sin,
Having dual pairs of luscious lips was simply not a sin at all; but
pretending that you couldn't speak a single word; abysmally stuttered
to convey the most infinitesimal of message to your compatriots even
after possessing them right since innocent childhood; was the
greatest sin,
Having ravishing clusters of hair on your scalp was simply not a sin
at all; but pretending that God had kept you disdainfully bald; that
your head shivered uncontrollably in cold even after possessing them
right since innocent childhood; was the greatest sin,
Having boundless lines on your glowing palm was simply not a sin at
all; but pretending that your entire life was ruined; your progress
had come to an abrupt standstill even after possessing them right
since innocent childhood; was the greatest sin,
Having pompously bulging muscle in your arms was simply not a sin at
all; but pretending that you were as feeble as a mosquito; couldn't
lift your very own body even after having them right since innocent
childhood; was the greatest sin,
Having thousands of voluptuously tantalizing eyelashes extruding from
[...] Read more
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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The Victories Of Love. Book I
I
From Frederick Graham
Mother, I smile at your alarms!
I own, indeed, my Cousin's charms,
But, like all nursery maladies,
Love is not badly taken twice.
Have you forgotten Charlotte Hayes,
My playmate in the pleasant days
At Knatchley, and her sister, Anne,
The twins, so made on the same plan,
That one wore blue, the other white,
To mark them to their father's sight;
And how, at Knatchley harvesting,
You bade me kiss her in the ring,
Like Anne and all the others? You,
That never of my sickness knew,
Will laugh, yet had I the disease,
And gravely, if the signs are these:
As, ere the Spring has any power,
The almond branch all turns to flower,
Though not a leaf is out, so she
The bloom of life provoked in me;
And, hard till then and selfish, I
Was thenceforth nought but sanctity
And service: life was mere delight
In being wholly good and right,
As she was; just, without a slur;
Honouring myself no less than her;
Obeying, in the loneliest place,
Ev'n to the slightest gesture, grace
Assured that one so fair, so true,
He only served that was so too.
For me, hence weak towards the weak,
No more the unnested blackbird's shriek
Startled the light-leaved wood; on high
Wander'd the gadding butterfly,
Unscared by my flung cap; the bee,
Rifling the hollyhock in glee,
Was no more trapp'd with his own flower,
And for his honey slain. Her power,
From great things even to the grass
Through which the unfenced footways pass,
Was law, and that which keeps the law,
Cherubic gaiety and awe;
Day was her doing, and the lark
Had reason for his song; the dark
In anagram innumerous spelt
Her name with stars that throbb'd and felt;
[...] Read more
poem by Coventry Patmore
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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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Innocent
Oh, johnny wishes he was famous
Spends his time alone in the basement
With lennon and cobain and
A guitar and a stereo
And while he wishes he could escape this
But it all seems so contagious
Not to be yourself and faceless
And a song that has no soul
I remember feeling low
I remember losing hope
And I remember all the feelings and the day they stopped
We are, we are all innocent
We are all innocent
We are, we are...
We are, we are all innocent
We are all innocent
We are, we are...
Oh, I dreamed of losing faith and what she knows
And some music hits on the foreclose
Thinks of surgery and a new nose
And the galleries of war
And while she wishes she was a dancer
And that shed never heard of cancer
She wishes God would give her some answers
And make her feel beautiful
I remember feeling low
I remember losing hope
I remember all the feelings and the day they stopped
We are, we are all innocent
We are all innocent
We are, we are...
We are, we are all innocent
We are all innocent
We are, we are...
One day, youll have to let it go
Youll have to let it go
No...
One day, youll stand up on your own
Youll stand up on your own
Remember losing hope
Remember feeling low
Remember all the feelings and the day they stopped
We are, we are all innocent
We are all innocent
We are, we are...
We are, we are all innocent
We are all innocent
We are, we are...
We are (one day), we are all innocent
We are all innocent (youll have to let it go)
[...] Read more
song performed by Our Lady Peace
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sixth Book
THE English have a scornful insular way
Of calling the French light. The levity
Is in the judgment only, which yet stands;
For say a foolish thing but oft enough,
(And here's the secret of a hundred creeds,–
Men get opinions as boys learn to spell,
By re-iteration chiefly) the same thing
Shall pass at least for absolutely wise,
And not with fools exclusively. And so,
We say the French are light, as if we said
The cat mews, or the milch-cow gives us milk:
Say rather, cats are milked, and milch cows mew,
For what is lightness but inconsequence,
Vague fluctuation 'twixt effect and cause,
Compelled by neither? Is a bullet light,
That dashes from the gun-mouth, while the eye
Winks, and the heart beats one, to flatten itself
To a wafer on the white speck on a wall
A hundred paces off? Even so direct,
So sternly undivertible of aim,
Is this French people.
All idealists
Too absolute and earnest, with them all
The idea of a knife cuts real flesh;
And still, devouring the safe interval
Which Nature placed between the thought and act,
They threaten conflagration to the world
And rush with most unscrupulous logic on
Impossible practice. Set your orators
To blow upon them with loud windy mouths
Through watchword phrases, jest or sentiment,
Which drive our burley brutal English mobs
Like so much chaff, whichever way they blow,–
This light French people will not thus be driven.
They turn indeed; but then they turn upon
Some central pivot of their thought and choice,
And veer out by the force of holding fast.
–That's hard to understand, for Englishmen
Unused to abstract questions, and untrained
To trace the involutions, valve by valve,
In each orbed bulb-root of a general truth,
And mark what subtly fine integument
Divides opposed compartments. Freedom's self
Comes concrete to us, to be understood,
Fixed in a feudal form incarnately
To suit our ways of thought and reverence,
The special form, with us, being still the thing.
With us, I say, though I'm of Italy
My mother's birth and grave, by father's grave
And memory; let it be,–a poet's heart
[...] Read more
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Giving Innocence
You created the fences.
And constructed the walls.
You put up all of your defenses,
While in the midst of conflicts...
And initiating those brawls.
In the past when you bullied it seemed much fun.
You undermined many and you saw some run.
You picked your enemies with a consciousness done.
And now you want to sit to complain about it.
As if you were the innocent one in the mix.
As if you were the innocent one in the mix.
In the past when you bullied it seemed much fun.
You undermined many and you saw some run.
You picked your enemies with a consciousness done.
And now you want to sit to complain about it.
As if you were the innocent one in the mix.
As if you were the innocent one in the mix.
You created the fences.
And constructed the walls.
You put up all of your defenses,
While in the midst of conflicts...
And those brawls.
In the past when you bullied it seemed much fun.
You undermined many and you saw some run.
You picked your enemies with a consciousness done.
And now you want to sit to complain about it.
As if you were the innocent one in the mix.
As if you were the innocent one in the mix.
As if you were the innocent one in the mix.
As if you were the innocent one in the mix.
You caused the riffs and conflicts.
Giving innocence.
You caused the riffs and conflicts.
Giving innocence.
You caused the riffs and conflicts.
Giving innocence.
And nothing innocent about it you can convince.
You caused the riffs and conflicts.
Giving innocence.
You caused the riffs and conflicts.
Giving innocence.
You caused the riffs and conflicts.
Giving innocence.
And nothing innocent about it you can convince.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Trust is found
Trust in man was lost today
Trust in man that is never quite regained
Trust was lost when you started to betray
Trust was lost when you didn't care enough to say
Trust was lost when you used me as your social play
Trust was lost when you hurt me in front of family and those that used me as prey
Trust was lost when you denied me of my greatest day
Trust was lost when you ignored my loves and hates
Trust was lost when you borrowed and never repaid
Trust was lost when I gave and you treated me as a slave
Trust was lost when I cared and all you wanted was pay
Trust was lost when I loved and you treated me as the fool
Trust was lost when I had a great passion and you treated it as a ration
Trust was lost when I looked in your eyes and saw the truth, but you continued to lie
Trust was lost when I asked you to help and you never even tried
Trust was found and everything turned around
When I lowered my head and looked up to the Masters stead
Trust was found and with it came the sound of the beginning to an eternal round
For on that day trust was found
Trust becomes sound, only when man looks around and realizes that
The only trust to be found is in him-self and the one that gave us ground
TRUST WAS FOUND!
poem by Jeff Rushton
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IX. Juris Doctor Johannes-Baptista Bottinius, Fisci et Rev. Cam. Apostol. Advocatus
Had I God's leave, how I would alter things!
If I might read instead of print my speech,—
Ay, and enliven speech with many a flower
Refuses obstinate to blow in print,
As wildings planted in a prim parterre,—
This scurvy room were turned an immense hall;
Opposite, fifty judges in a row;
This side and that of me, for audience—Rome:
And, where yon window is, the Pope should hide—
Watch, curtained, but peep visibly enough.
A buzz of expectation! Through the crowd,
Jingling his chain and stumping with his staff,
Up comes an usher, louts him low, "The Court
"Requires the allocution of the Fisc!"
I rise, I bend, I look about me, pause
O'er the hushed multitude: I count—One, two—
Have ye seen, Judges, have ye, lights of law,—
When it may hap some painter, much in vogue
Throughout our city nutritive of arts,
Ye summon to a task shall test his worth,
And manufacture, as he knows and can,
A work may decorate a palace-wall,
Afford my lords their Holy Family,—
Hath it escaped the acumen of the Court
How such a painter sets himself to paint?
Suppose that Joseph, Mary and her Babe
A-journeying to Egypt, prove the piece:
Why, first he sedulously practiseth,
This painter,—girding loin and lighting lamp,—
On what may nourish eye, make facile hand;
Getteth him studies (styled by draughtsmen so)
From some assistant corpse of Jew or Turk
Or, haply, Molinist, he cuts and carves,—
This Luca or this Carlo or the like.
To him the bones their inmost secret yield,
Each notch and nodule signify their use:
On him the muscles turn, in triple tier,
And pleasantly entreat the entrusted man
"Familiarize thee with our play that lifts
"Thus, and thus lowers again, leg, arm and foot!"
—Ensuring due correctness in the nude.
Which done, is all done? Not a whit, ye know!
He,—to art's surface rising from her depth,—
If some flax-polled soft-bearded sire be found,
May simulate a Joseph, (happy chance!)—
Limneth exact each wrinkle of the brow,
Loseth no involution, cheek or chap,
Till lo, in black and white, the senior lives!
Is it a young and comely peasant-nurse
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Walk By
ock and roll!
she walked down to the store at 8
the devil walks with her and he thinks shes great
when he looked at me i dont know wat i saw
i think hes trying to make me his son in law
when she walked by
walked by
walked by
she walked on by
walked by
walked by
walked by
she walked on by
egos fly and she walks by
she caught my eye on october ninth
thats 22 days before halloween
how did i know shed be my evil queen
when she walked by
walked by
walked by
she walked on by
walked by
walked by
walked by
she walked on by
my mother warned me against girls like you
she said stay away from them son you know they arent true
all there gonna do is put you under their spell
and when your going down your going straight to hell
walk by
walk by
walk by
im gonna walk on by
walk by
walk by
walk by
im gonna walk on by
walk on by
walk on by
walk on by
[...] Read more
song performed by Good Charlotte from Good Charlotte
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
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The Undying One- Canto III
'THERE is a sound the autumn wind doth make
Howling and moaning, listlessly and low:
Methinks that to a heart that ought to break
All the earth's voices seem to murmur so.
The visions that crost
Our path in light--
The things that we lost
In the dim dark night--
The faces for which we vainly yearn--
The voices whose tones will not return--
That low sad wailing breeze doth bring
Borne on its swift and rushing wing.
Have ye sat alone when that wind was loud,
And the moon shone dim from the wintry cloud?
When the fire was quench'd on your lonely hearth,
And the voices were still which spoke of mirth?
If such an evening, tho' but one,
It hath been yours to spend alone--
Never,--though years may roll along
Cheer'd by the merry dance and song;
Though you mark'd not that bleak wind's sound before,
When louder perchance it used to roar--
Never shall sound of that wintry gale
Be aught to you but a voice of wail!
So o'er the careless heart and eye
The storms of the world go sweeping by;
But oh! when once we have learn'd to weep,
Well doth sorrow his stern watch keep.
Let one of our airy joys decay--
Let one of our blossoms fade away--
And all the griefs that others share
Seem ours, as well as theirs, to bear:
And the sound of wail, like that rushing wind
Shall bring all our own deep woe to mind!
'I went through the world, but I paused not now
At the gladsome heart and the joyous brow:
I went through the world, and I stay'd to mark
Where the heart was sore, and the spirit dark:
And the grief of others, though sad to see,
Was fraught with a demon's joy to me!
'I saw the inconstant lover come to take
Farewell of her he loved in better days,
And, coldly careless, watch the heart-strings break--
Which beat so fondly at his words of praise.
She was a faded, painted, guilt-bow'd thing,
Seeking to mock the hues of early spring,
When misery and years had done their worst
[...] Read more
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Trust Me
Trust me; and I’ll sacrifice each iota of my blood; to
witness you enchantingly smile,
Trust me; and I’ll bring the resplendent festoon of
stars down on earth; to enlighten each cranny of your
disastrously impoverished life,
Trust me; and I’ll blend all the lecherously heinous
with raw bits of threadbare soil; alleviate your
turbulently estranged life of its bizarre sadness,
Trust me; and I’ll stand like an invincibly towering
fortress beside your side; would behead my scalp but
ensure that not even the most minuscule of enemy;
transgressed against your blissful snores,
Trust me; and I’ll help you pass all your horrendously
cumbersome examinations; propelling you irrefutably to
forever emerge a euphoric winner in life,
Trust me; and I’ll inundate your dolorously drab life
with rhapsodically everlasting fragrance; bring the
most captivating of paradise on your divinely toes,
Trust me; and I’ll wholeheartedly donate all my riches
to your desolate soul; indefatigably carry you upon my
shoulders; till you achieved your ultimate mission in
life,
Trust me; and I’ll be your best friend for infinite
more births of yours yet to unveil; would massacre
even the most infinitesimal trace of sadness; before
it dared to linger near your persona,
Trust me; and I’ll ignite untamed cloudbursts of
desire in your pathetically dreary existence; enrich
each of your dreadfully frightening nightmares; with
optimistic rays of light,
Trust me; and I’ll pacify each of your demands with
every ingredient compassionately inhabiting my scarlet
blood; weeping a countless deaths but never letting
you cry,
Trust me; and I’ll sequester you from the most
mightiest storm and rain; incessantly walking on a
blanket of acrimonious thorns; while you danced in
realms of misty sky,
Trust me; and I’ll flood your every morning with the
[...] Read more
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Three Women
My love is young, so young;
Young is her cheek, and her throat,
And life is a song to be sung
With love the word for each note.
Young is her cheek and her throat;
Her eyes have the smile o' May.
And love is the word for each note
In the song of my life to-day.
Her eyes have the smile o' May;
Her heart is the heart of a dove,
And the song of my life to-day
Is love, beautiful love.
Her heart is the heart of a dove,
Ah, would it but fly to my breast
Where love, beautiful love,
Has made it a downy nest.
Ah, would she but fly to my breast,
My love who is young, so young;
I have made her a downy nest
And life is a song to be sung.
1
I.
A dull little station, a man with the eye
Of a dreamer; a bevy of girls moving by;
A swift moving train and a hot Summer sun,
The curtain goes up, and our play is begun.
The drama of passion, of sorrow, of strife,
Which always is billed for the theatre Life.
It runs on forever, from year unto year,
With scarcely a change when new actors appear.
It is old as the world is-far older in truth,
For the world is a crude little planet of youth.
And back in the eras before it was formed,
The passions of hearts through the Universe stormed.
Maurice Somerville passed the cluster of girls
Who twisted their ribbons and fluttered their curls
In vain to attract him; his mind it was plain
Was wholly intent on the incoming train.
That great one eyed monster puffed out its black breath,
Shrieked, snorted and hissed, like a thing bent on death,
[...] Read more
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Just to Show the Kids Today What Innocence Is
Remember those lollipops we liked alot and licked.
I remember licking every bit and saving the sticks.
Remember spending nickels to get five hot rockets.
Sucking those hot balls until the juice dripped from our lips.
Do you remember candy dots on strips of paper...
With every flavor there but chocolate.
Those times are gone but innocence should be held over.
Just to show the kids today what innocence is!
And...
Those times are gone but innocence should be held over.
Just to show the kids today what innocence is!
Remember those lollipops we liked alot and licked.
I remember licking every bit and saving the sticks.
Remember spending nickels to get five hot rockets.
Sucking those hot balls until the juice dripped from our lips.
Do you remember candy dots on strips of paper...
With every flavor there but chocolate.
Those times are gone but innocence should be held over.
Just to show the kids today what innocence is!
And...
Those times are gone but innocence should be held over.
Just to show the kids today what innocence is!
There were many benefits to being young and innocent.
Those times are gone but innocence should be held over.
Just to show the kids today what innocence is!
There were many benefits to being young and innocent.
Those times are gone but innocence should be held over.
Just to show the kids today what innocence is!
Just to show them proof that innocence once lived!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Trust Yourself
Trust yourself,
Trust yourself to do the things that only you know best.
Trust yourself,
Trust yourself to do whats right and not be second-guessed.
Dont trust me to show you beauty
When beauty may only turn to rust.
If you need somebody you can trust, trust yourself.
Trust yourself,
Trust yourself to know the way that will prove true in the end.
Trust yourself,
Trust yourself to find the path where there is no if and when.
Dont trust me to show you the truth
When the truth may only be ashes and dust.
If you want somebody you can trust, trust yourself.
Well, youre on your own, you always were.
In a land of wolves and thieves.
Dont put your hope in ungodly man
Or be a slave to what somebody else believes.
Trust yourself
And you wont be disappointed when vain people let you down.
Trust yourself
And look not for answers where no answers can be found.
Dont trust me to show you love
When my love may only be lust.
If you want somebody you can trust, trust yourself.
song performed by Bob Dylan
Added by Lucian Velea
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