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Laugh It Off...

When the sickness is sadness,
laughter is the cure.

poem by Joe Fazio
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Ain't No Cure For Love (Crush Demo)

Aint no cure for love
Aint no cure for love
There aint no cure for love
Aint no cure
Cupid was a blind man
He must have missed his mark
Shot an arrow in the air and hit me in the heart
I went to see Saint Valentine
Said Whats come over me?
Daddy must have missed the chapter about the birds and bees
You can be the King of diamonds
You can cash in all your gold
You could hire Johnnie Cochran
Its too late to save your soul
Dont need no shot, no ambulance
Dont need prescription drugs
There aint no cure for love
They can find the cure for the common cold
When the pushing comes to shove
There aint no cure for love
Now someone call my lawyer
Im going to see my shrink
I found myself in the jewelry store buying a diamond ring
I went to see my doctor
Said Wont you help me please?
He said Son Im sorry, its a terminal disease
Cant get no love insurance
Cupid draws his bow
I aint waving boys, Im drowning
Its a damn good way to go
Dont need no shot, no ambulance
Dont need prescription drugs
There aint no cure for love
They can find the cure for the common cold
When the pushing comes to shove
There aint no cure for love
You can be the King of Diamonds
You can cash in all your gold
You can hire Johnnie Cochran
Its too late to save your soul
Dont need no shot, no ambulance
Dont need prescription drugs
There aint no cure for love
They can find the cure for the common cold
When the pushing comes to shove
There aint no cure for love
No aspirin
No ambulance
Or Voodoo you can think up
Aint no cure for love

[...] Read more

song performed by Bon Jovi
Added by Lucian Velea
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Aint No Cure For Love

I loved you for a long, long time
I know this love is real
It dont matter how it all went wrong
That dont change the way I feel
And I cant believe that times
Gonna heal this wound Im speaking of
There aint no cure,
There aint no cure,
There aint no cure for love.
Im aching for you baby
I cant pretend Im not
I need to see you naked
In your body and your thought
Ive got you like a habit
And Ill never get enough
There aint no cure,
There aint no cure,
There aint no cure for love
There aint no cure for love
There aint no cure for love
All the rocket ships are climbing through the sky
The holy books are open wide
The doctors working day and night
But theyll never ever find that cure for love
There aint no drink no drug
(ah tell them, angels)
Theres nothing pure enough to be a cure for love
I see you in the subwayand I see you on the bus
I see you lying down with me, I see you waking up
I see your hand, I see your hair
Your bracelets and your brush
And I call to you, I call to you
But I dont call soft enough
There aint no cure,
There aint no cure,
There aint no cure for love
I walked into this empty church I had no place else to go
When the sweetest voice I ever heard, whispered to my soul
I dont need to be forgiven for loving you so much
Its written in the scriptures
Its written there in blood
I even heard the angels declare it from above
There aint no cure,
There aint no cure,
There aint no cure for love
There aint no cure for love
There aint no cure for love
All the rocket ships are climbing through the sky
The holy books are open wide
The doctors working day and night

[...] Read more

song performed by Leonard Cohen
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Secret Whisky Cure

’Tis no tale of heroism, ’tis no tale of storm and strife,
But of ordinary boozing, and of dull domestic life—
Of the everlasting friction that most husbands must endure—
Tale of nagging and of drinking—and a secret whisky cure.
Name of Jones—perhaps you know him—small house-agent here in town—
(Friend of Smith, you know him also—likewise Robinson and Brown),
Just a hopeless little husband, whose deep sorrows were obscure,
And a bitter nagging Missis—and death seemed the only cure.

’Twas a common sordid marriage, and there’s little new to tell—
Save the pub to him was Heaven and his own home was a hell:
With the office in between them—purgatory to be sure—
And, as far as Jones could make out—well, there wasn’t any cure.

’Twas drink and nag—or nag and drink—whichever you prefer—
Till at last she couldn’t stand him any more than he could her.
Friends and relatives assisted, telling her (with motives pure)
That a legal separation was the only earthly cure.

So she went and saw a lawyer, who, in accents soft and low,
Asked her firstly if her husband had a bank account or no;
But he hadn’t and she hadn’t, they in fact were very poor,
So he bowed her out suggesting she should try some liquor cure.

She saw a drink cure advertised in the Sydney Bulletin—
Cure for brandy, cure for whisky, cure for rum and beer and gin,
And it could be given secret, it was tasteless, swift and sure—
So she purchased half a gallon of that Secret Whisky Cure.

And she put some in his coffee, smiling sweetly all the while,
And he started for the office rather puzzled by the smile—
Smile or frown he’d have a whisky, and you’ll say he was a boor—
But perhaps his wife had given him an overdose of Cure.

And he met a friend he hadn’t seen for seven years or more—
It was just upon the threshold of a private bar-room door—
And they coalised and entered straight away, you may be sure—
But of course they hadn’t reckoned with a Secret Whisky Cure.

Jones, he drank, turned pale, and, gasping, hurried out the back way quick,
Where, to his old chum’s amazement, he was violently sick;
Then they interviewed the landlord, but he swore the drink was pure—
It was only the beginning of the Secret Whisky Cure.

For Jones couldn’t stand the smell of even special whisky blends,
And shunned bar-rooms to the sorrow of his trusty drinking friends:
And they wondered, too, what evil genius had chanced to lure
Him from paths of booze and friendship—never dreaming of a Cure.

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Lawson
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The Cure Of Calumette

Dere's no voyageur on de reever never
run hees canoe d'ecorce
T'roo de roar an' de rush of de rapide, w'ere it
jump lak a beeg w'ite horse,
Dere's no hunter man on de prairie, never
wear w'at you call racquette
Can beat leetle Fader O'Hara, de Curé of
Calumette.

Hees fader is full-blooded Irish, an' hees moder
is pure Canayenne,
Not offen dat stock go tegedder, but she's
fine combination ma frien'
For de Irish he's full of de devil, an' de French
dey got savoir faire,
Dat's mak'it de very good balance an' tak'
you mos' ev'ry w' ere.

But dere' wan t'ing de Curé wont stan' it;
mak' fun of de Irlandais
An' of course de French we say not'ing,
'cos de parish she's all Canayen,
Den you see on account of de moder, he can't
spik hese'f very moche,
So de ole joke she's all out of fashion, an' wan
of dem t'ing we don't touch.

Wall! wan of dat kin' is de Curé, but w'en he
be comin' our place
De peop' on de parish all w'isper, 'How
young he was look on hees face;
Too bad if de wedder she keel heem de firse
tam he got leetle wet,
An' de Bishop might sen' beeger Curé, for it's
purty tough place, Calumette!'

Ha! ha! how I wish I was dere, me, w'en he
go on de mission call
On de shaintee camp way up de reever, drivin'
hees own cariole,
An' he meet blagger' feller been drinkin', jus'
enough mak' heem ack lak fou,
Joe Vadeboncoeur, dey was call heem, an' he's
purty beeg feller too!

Mebbe Joe he don't know it's de Curé, so he's
hollerin', 'Get out de way,
If you don't geev me whole of de roadside,
sapree! you go off on de sleigh.'
But de Curé he never say not'ing, jus' poule

[...] Read more

poem by William Henry Drummond
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Following The Sickness

Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.

Fighting our own shadows, fooled by our enemies.
They are the ones you just can't see.
The unaccepted theory is rejected yet again.
But still the chorus plays.

Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.

Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.

To whom it may concern.
A poetic letter, dressed in feathers.
Does it make it any prettier?
A distraction from the purpose.
Delivering the simplest of messages.
And still they are not heard.
Oh no they are never heard.

Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.

Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.

And man is yet to learn.

And man is yet to learn.

Foolish know it alls.
A change in circumstances will cause a sudden fall.
A broken bone, or ego?
A laceration or a severed artery?
Is it serious or superficial?
An inflamation that just won't go down.

Follow the sickness.
As the bodies dropp the fire burns.
And man is yet to learn.

And it has brought me here.
A million passersby's.

[...] Read more

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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The Remedy of Love

When Cupid read this title, straight he said,
'Wars, I perceive, against me will be made.'
But spare, oh Love! to tax thy poet so,
Who oft bath borne thy ensign 'gainst thy foe;
I am not he by whom thy mother bled,
When she to heaven on Mars his horses fled.
I oft, like other youths, thy flame did prove,
And if thou ask, what I do still? I love.
Nay, I have taught by art to keep Love's course,
And made that reason which before was force.
I seek not to betray thee, pretty boy,
Nor what I once have written to destroy.
If any love, and find his mistress kind,
Let him go on, and sail with his own wind;
But he that by his love is discontented,
To save his life my verses were invented.
Why should a lover kill himself? or why
Should any, with his own grief wounded, die?
Thou art a boy, to play becomes thee still,
Thy reign is soft; play then, and do not kill;
Or if thou'lt needs be vexing, then do this,
Make lovers meet by stealth, and steal a kiss
Make them to fear lest any overwatch them,
And tremble when they think some come to catch them;
And with those tears that lovers shed all night,
Be thou content, but do not kill outright.—
Love heard, and up his silver wings did heave,
And said, 'Write on; I freely give thee leave.'
Come then, all ye despised, that love endure,
I, that have felt the wounds, your love will cure;
But come at first, for if you make delay,
Your sickness will grow mortal by your stay:
The tree, which by delay is grown so big,
In the beginning was a tender twig;
That which at first was but a span in length,
Will, by delay, be rooted past men's strength.
Resist beginnings, medicines bring no curing
Where sickness is grown strong by long enduring.
When first thou seest a lass that likes thine eye,
Bend all thy present powers to descry
Whether her eye or carriage first would shew
If she be fit for love's delights or no:
Some will be easy, such an one elect;
But she that bears too grave and stern aspect,
Take heed of her, and make her not thy jewel,
Either she cannot love, or will be cruel.
If love assail thee there, betime take heed,
Those wounds are dangerous that inward bleed;
He that to-day cannot shake off love's sorrow,
Will certainly be more unapt to-morrow.

[...] Read more

poem by Francis Beaumont
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The Laughers

Spring!
And her hidden bugles up the street.
Spring -- and the sweet
Laughter of winds at the crossing;
Laughter of birds and a fountain tossing
Its hair in abandoned ecstasies.
Laughter of trees.
Laughter of shop-girls that giggle and blush;
Laugh of the tug-boat's impertinent fife.
Laughter followed by a trembling hush --
Laughter of love, scarce whispered aloud.
Then, stilled by no sacredness or strife,
Laughter that leaps from the crowd;
Seizing the world in a rush.
Laughter of life...

Earth takes deep breaths like a man who had feared he might smother,
Filling his lungs before bursting into a shout....
Windows are opened -- curtains flying out;
Over the wash-lines women call to each other.
And, under the calling, there surges, too clearly to doubt,
Spring, with the noises
Of shrill, little voices;
Joining in 'Tag' and the furious chase
Of 'I-spy,' 'Red Rover' and 'Prisoner's Base';
Of the roller-skates whir at the sidewalk's slope,
Of boys playing marbles and girls skipping rope.
And there, down the avenue, behold,
The first true herald of the Spring --
The hand-organ gasping and wheezily murmuring
Its tunes ten-years old....
And the music, trivial and tawdry, has freshness and magical swing.
And over and under it,
During and after --
The laughter
Of Spring!...

And lifted still
With the common thrill,
With the throbbing air, the tingling vapor,
That rose like strong and mingled wines;
I turned to my paper,
And read these lines:
'Now that the Spring is here,
The war enters its bloodiest phase...
The men are impatient....
Bad roads, storms and the rigors of the winter
Have held back the contending armies....
But the recruits have arrived,
And are waiting only the first days of warm weather....

[...] Read more

poem by Louis Untermeyer
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The Laughter Therapy

(I)
Every morning the ritual is the same, -
I say my prayers and take His name;
As I settle down to read the papers, –
About our politician’s famous ‘blame game’!
It is then I always hear, loud peals of laughter
from our adjacent park,
A man dedicated to laughter therapy,
With his loud guffaw and reverberating bark!
Trying to resolve this laughing mystery, -
I read several articles about Laughter Therapy!

(II)
Amongst all created things and living beings,
Man alone suffers deeply in his body, mind,
and soul;
With peals of laughter he must suppress his tears,
To balance this life and control!
Yet during those rare and supreme happy moments
of life, -
Tears are seen to well-up in our eyes!
Laughter gets mingled with our tears, -
I wonder why? !
Perhaps laughter and tears are two sides,
Of the same coin of our worldly life!
While our lacrymal glands perform this feat, -
As laughter and tears join hands to make this
life complete!
(III)
While hearty, non-ridiculing and connecting
laughter does provide,
Physiological, psychological and spiritual
benefits - on hindsight!
Laughter brings a twinkle in our eyes, destroying
our conservative reputation;
Improving our cardiovascular flexibility, increasing
our spiritual quotient!
Laughter like internal jogging, gives us an internal
massaging;
Performed both silently and rapidly beyond imagining!
Revitalizing those unexplored internal crannies –
all automatic!
Far better than all our know antibiotics!
Laughter a tranquilizer without side effects,
Releases our pent-up tension relaxing us instead!

(IV)
An optimist always laughs to forget, while a pessimist
forgets to laugh,
My man in the park is perhaps an optimist,

[...] Read more

poem by Raj Nandy (18 December 2008, New Delhi)
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Me and Laughter Together Always

Sometimes I laugh out loud
Showing you that I could care less what you have to say
All that matters is that my feelings are hidden
Hiding from those who judge me and those who love me
And Laughter helps me do just that
Laughter is my better half
Laughter stands with me when I’m bored
Laughter comforts me when I want to cry
He keeps me company through grief and through happiness
For better or worse, in sickness and health, through thick and thin
I love Laughter and Laughter loves me back
And yet you don’t know why Laughter makes Me
Look deep into my eyes when I laugh and you’ll see
You will find all the hate, all the pain, and all the hurt
But if that’s all you see
You’re not looking deep enough
Look past the tears that I won’t allow to flow
Look past the memories that I can’t let go of
And when you see through all the hate, all the pain and all the hurt
You'll find Me
I cover Me up with Laughter
There are none who can see the true Me
They can’t see through my Laughter
And if you should happen to see Me
I won’t need Laughter to hide anymore
Because I can cry on your shoulder
I can smile and enjoy you company without a single sound
Only then, Laughter won’t be my protector
Until then, it’s Me and Laughter together always
I hide my feelings through Laughter
So if you’re trying to figure out what I’m thinking,
Laugh with me and you will then see...-Me

poem by Nyoka Mitchell
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Laughter

Laughter is a unique quality endowed to mankind;
It is completely denied to the animal mind.

When humour is dwelt upon and reared,
There emanates laughter and is shared.

Roaring laughter is contagious,
And humour is surely infectious.

Laughter escalates hilarity and happiness,
And humour diminishes weariness.

One can laugh at a joke, ridiculous,
And can scoff at another one, meticulous.

One needs to be like a child, so jolly,
Egoless and innocent to laugh so merrily.

Laughter requires a bit of intelligence,
As well as presence of mind and good sense.

Benefits of laughter are numerous,
It bestows a wealth of health on us.

Laughter boosts the immunity system,
And lowers the stress hormone item.

With laughter the whole body is relaxed,
And gnawing pain for a time is axed.

Laughter prevents even the heart disease,
And a sorrowful mood is made to ease.

With a chuckle feel-good endorphins are released,
And with a peal of laughter one is pleased.

Laughter adds joy and zest to life,
And eases anxiety, fear and strife.

Laughter helps conflicts to diffuse,
And mirth in one it does suffuse.

Laughter is a resource for problem surmounting,
And has the power for good relationship enhancing.

Humour lightens one's burdens;
Inspires hope and the outlook broadens.

So let us enjoy humour and guffaw heartily,
And let us blend laughter into our lives verily.

poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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Calling Dr. Love

You need my love baby, oh so bad
You're not the only one i've ever had
And if i say i wanna set you free
Don't you know you'll be in misery
They call me (dr. love)
They call me dr. love (calling dr. love)
I've got the cure you're thinkin' of (calling dr. love)
And even though i'm full of sin
In the end you'll let me in
You'll let me through, there's nothin' you can do
You need my lovin', don't you know it's true
So if you please get on your knees
There are no bills, there are no fees
Baby, i know what your problem is
The first step of the cure is a kiss
So call me (dr. love)
They call me dr. love (calling dr. love)
I am your doctor of love (calling dr. love), ha
They call me (dr. love), they call me dr. love (calling dr. love)
I've got the cure you're thinkin' of (calling dr. love)
Ooh, they call me (dr. love)
I am the doctor of love (calling dr. love)
I've got the cure you're thinkin' of (calling dr. love)
Ooh, they call me (dr. love)
I am your doctor of love (calling dr. love)
I've got the cure you're thinking of (calling dr. love), yeah
Yeah, they call me (dr. love)
They call me dr. love (calling dr. love)
I've got the cure you're thinkin' of (calling dr. love)
Love, love, love, (dr. love)
Love, love, love, love, (calling dr. love) love dr. love
(calling dr. love)
I've got the cure you're thinkin' (dr. love)
I've got the cure you're thinkin' (calling dr. love)
I've got the cure you're thinkin' of (calling dr. love)
They call me dr. love (dr. love)
They call me dr. love (calling dr. love)
I've got the cure

song performed by Kiss
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Bride's Prelude

“Sister,” said busy Amelotte
To listless Aloÿse;
“Along your wedding-road the wheat
Bends as to hear your horse's feet,
And the noonday stands still for heat.”
Amelotte laughed into the air
With eyes that sought the sun:
But where the walls in long brocade
Were screened, as one who is afraid
Sat Aloÿse within the shade.
And even in shade was gleam enough
To shut out full repose
From the bride's 'tiring-chamber, which
Was like the inner altar-niche
Whose dimness worship has made rich.
Within the window's heaped recess
The light was counterchanged
In blent reflexes manifold
From perfume-caskets of wrought gold
And gems the bride's hair could not hold,
All thrust together: and with these
A slim-curved lute, which now,
At Amelotte's sudden passing there,
Was swept in somewise unaware,
And shook to music the close air.
Against the haloed lattice-panes
The bridesmaid sunned her breast;
Then to the glass turned tall and free,
And braced and shifted daintily
Her loin-belt through her côte-hardie.
The belt was silver, and the clasp
Of lozenged arm-bearings;
A world of mirrored tints minute
The rippling sunshine wrought into 't,
That flushed her hand and warmed her foot.
At least an hour had Aloÿse—
Her jewels in her hair—
Her white gown, as became a bride,
Quartered in silver at each side—
Sat thus aloof, as if to hide.
Over her bosom, that lay still,
The vest was rich in grain,
With close pearls wholly overset:
Around her throat the fastenings met
Of chevesayle and mantelet.
Her arms were laid along her lap
With the hands open: life
Itself did seem at fault in her:
Beneath the drooping brows, the stir
Of thought made noonday heavier.

[...] Read more

poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Good bye sadness

Good bye Sadness
She is so happy now
That you are out of her mind
You finally vanished
Good bye Sadness
Why are you called Sadness?
Because that’s the name they given you
You make people cry
You even made her cry too many times
There was a dark cloud hanging in her eyes
For a long tine
And now it is gone
Good bye sadness
She doesn’t need to see you again
You are also painful
Good bye sadness
You belong in the sad Sea
Where the pain lays
Among the dead fishes
In that sad Sea
The oil from that big ship and vessels
Pollutes this sad Sea
She doesn’t want to be a part of the Sad Sea either
Because it is sad to see
All that wild life dies
Good bye sadness
You never had anything good to offer her anyway
Pain and more pain you brought her all through those years
But the truth is that she had to go through it
To appreciate the good stuff
Yes sadness I can tell you she went through with it
For a long time
Good bye sadness
Please stay away from her forever
She doesn’t need you in her life
Sadness breaks everybody’s hearts
Her heart was broken too many times
By you sadness
Good bye sadness

poem by Aldo Kraas
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Metal Beat

Nobody knew me so I bought some time.
An hour or two with a friend of mine.
Somebody lied so I burned their soul.
Somebody screamed and the fire burned cold.
I cure things, sweet young things.
I take the pain away.
I cure things, sweet young things.
I soothe the pain away.
I cure things, sweet young things.
I take the pain away.
I cure things, sweet young things.
Like someone walks on their grave.
I booked a small room in a cheap motel.
Somewhere to hide and a cure to sell.
I call it fashion, Ill make them bleed.
No one to love but a ghost to feed.
I was a puppet pulling my own strings.
I cant believe that I did such things.
I was a shadow but God forgives.
Now Im a priest and jesus lives.
- adlib -
I cure things, sweet young things.
I take the pain away.
I cure things, sweet young things.
I take the pain away.
I cure things, sweet young things.
I take the pain away.
I cure things, sweet young things.
Like someone walks on their grave.
How can I save you if you dont confess?
Kneel down bitch be truly blessed.

song performed by Gary Numan
Added by Lucian Velea
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Cocteau Twins

I see them walking
You know theyre walking at night
Ohh in the dark you know
Theyre shining out so bright
Your sarky voices are gonna come on so near
As every picture becomes so clear
You
You come on so sharp
Yet be so nice
Tell me that youre so hot
But youre as cold as ice
There is no cure
Youre so blind cant you see?
There is no cure
Cant buy no immunity
There is no cure
So keep your evil from me
There is no cure.
They like to stay
Ooh come on
Come on and stay up so late
You gonna talk of all the things you just wanna hate
You wanna come on
Come on
And make me so mad
Inside your heart
I know it feels so bad
You
You come on so sharp
Yet be so nice
Tell me that youre so hot
But youre as cold as ice
There is no cure
Youre so blind cant you see?
There is no cure
Cant buy immunity
There is no cure
So keep your evil from me
There is no cure
Come on and do it
Just what to do it
Theyre going to do it
Just want to do it
There is no cure...
Lyrics : j kerr music : burchill/kerr (c) emi publishing ltd reproduced without permission

song performed by Simple Minds
Added by Lucian Velea
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No Cure

(originally called the cocteau twins)
I see them walking
You know theyre walking at night
Ohh in the dark you know
Theyre shining out so bright
Your sarky voices are gonna come on so near
As every picture becomes so clear
You
You come on so sharp
Yet be so nice
Tell me that youre so hot
But youre as cold as ice
There is no cure
Youre so blind cant you see?
There is no cure
Cant buy no immunity
There is no cure
So keep your evil from me
There is no cure.
They like to stay
Ooh come on
Come on and stay up so late
You gonna talk of all the things you just wanna hate
You wanna come on
Come on
And make me so mad
Inside your heart
I know it feels so bad
You
You come on so sharp
Yet be so nice
Tell me that youre so hot
But youre as cold as ice
There is no cure
Youre so blind cant you see?
There is no cure
Cant buy immunity
There is no cure
So keep your evil from me
There is no cure
Come on and do it
Just what to do it
Theyre going to do it
Just want to do it
There is no cure...
Lyrics : j kerr music : burchill/kerr (c) emi publishing ltd reproduced without permission

song performed by Simple Minds
Added by Lucian Velea
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Quatrains Of Life

What has my youth been that I love it thus,
Sad youth, to all but one grown tedious,
Stale as the news which last week wearied us,
Or a tired actor's tale told to an empty house?

What did it bring me that I loved it, even
With joy before it and that dream of Heaven,
Boyhood's first rapture of requited bliss,
What did it give? What ever has it given?

'Let me recount the value of my days,
Call up each witness, mete out blame and praise,
Set life itself before me as it was,
And--for I love it--list to what it says.

Oh, I will judge it fairly. Each old pleasure
Shared with dead lips shall stand a separate treasure.
Each untold grief, which now seems lesser pain,
Shall here be weighed and argued of at leisure.

I will not mark mere follies. These would make
The count too large and in the telling take
More tears than I can spare from seemlier themes
To cure its laughter when my heart should ache.

Only the griefs which are essential things,
The bitter fruit which all experience brings;
Nor only of crossed pleasures, but the creed
Men learn who deal with nations and with kings.

All shall be counted fairly, griefs and joys,
Solely distinguishing 'twixt mirth and noise,
The thing which was and that which falsely seemed,
Pleasure and vanity, man's bliss and boy's.

So I shall learn the reason of my trust
In this poor life, these particles of dust
Made sentient for a little while with tears,
Till the great ``may--be'' ends for me in ``must.''

My childhood? Ah, my childhood! What of it
Stripped of all fancy, bare of all conceit?
Where is the infancy the poets sang?
Which was the true and which the counterfeit?

I see it now, alas, with eyes unsealed,
That age of innocence too well revealed.
The flowers I gathered--for I gathered flowers--
Were not more vain than I in that far field.

[...] Read more

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Added by Poetry Lover
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ANGRY WHITE BOY POLKA

[LAST RESORT (Papa Roach)]
Cut my life into pieces
This is my last resort, suffocation, no breathing
Don't give a... if I cut my arm bleeding
This is my last resort
'Cause I'm losing my sight, losing my mind
Wish somebody would tell me I'm fine
Losing my sight, losing my mind
Wish somebody would tell me I'm fine
Nothing's alright, nothing is fine
I'm running and a-crying
[CHOP SUEY! (System Of A Down)]
Wake up! (Wake up)
Grab a brush and put a little make-up
Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup
(Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup)
Why'd you leave the keys upon the table?
Here you go create another fable
You wanted to
Grab a brush and put a little makeup
You wanted to
Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup
You wanted to
Why'd you leave the keys upon the table?
You wanted to
I don't think you trust
In my self-righteous suicide
I cry when angels deserve to die, die, die
D-d-die die die die die
Hey!
[GET FREE (The Vines)]
I'm gonna get free
I'm gonna get free
I'm gonna get free
Ride into the sun
She never loved me
She never loved me
She never loved me
Why should anyone?
(Come here, come here, come here)
I'll take your photo for ya
(Come here, come here, come here)
Drive you around the corner
(Come here, come here, come here)
You know you really oughta
(Come here, come here, come here)
Move out to California*
[HATE TO SAY I TOLD YOU SO (The Hives)]
Do what I want 'cause I can, if I don't because I wanna
Be ignored by the stiff and the bored because I'm gonna

[...] Read more

song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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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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The Pessimist In A Poem...

the sickness of humanity
is looking for a cure
and trusting about the herbs of
words
humanity keeps on writing
until it finds the
cure,

there seems to be
nothing,
there is no remedy
on the sickness of our humanity
it begs
nothing is given
it is thirsty and remains
to be one
it is hungry (for love, for compassion
for warmth, and understanding
for food
and shelter and embrace)
and it so remains to
be one
hungry world

there is no cure, its sickness
remains forever
until you come in
to tell the world that it is wrong

you are the savior
of this sickness of humanity
when you cease to be
one of them.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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