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Los Angeles And London

LA has the density
of London, and its sprawl
lacks truly the immensity
that makes detractors crawl.
Los Angeles has open spaces
more than London does;
while London has more royal faces,
LA has more buzz.
LA’s fault is San Andreas,
in London it’s the Pakis;
both say, “Illegal to kick ass,
except against Iraqis.”
They both are surely very great
but how long will this last?
Now enemies are at the gate-
for both the die is cast.

poem by Gershon Hepner
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Piedra de Sol

La treizième revient...c’est encor la première;
et c’est toujours la seule-ou c’est le seul moment;
car es-tu reine, ô toi, la première ou dernière?
es-tu roi, toi le seul ou le dernier amant?
Gérard de Nerval, Arthèmis
Un sauce de cristal, un chopo de agua,
un alto surtidor que el viento arquea,
un árbol bien plantado mas danzante,
un caminar de río que se curva,
avanza, retrocede, da un rodeo
y llega siempre:
un caminar tranquilo
de estrella o primavera sin premura,
agua que con los párpados cerrados
mana toda la noche profecías,
unánime presencia en oleaje,
ola tras ola hasta cubrirlo todo,
verde soberanía sin ocaso
como el deslumbramiento de las alas
cuando se abren en mitad del cielo,
un caminar entre las espesuras
de los días futuros y el aciago
fulgor de la desdicha como un ave
petrificando el bosque con su canto
y las felicidades inminentes
entre las ramas que se desvanecen,
horas de luz que pican ya los pájaros,
presagios que se escapan de la mano,

una presencia como un canto súbito,
como el viento cantando en el incendio,
una mirada que sostiene en vilo
al mundo con sus mares y sus montes,
cuerpo de luz filtrado por un ágata,
piernas de luz, vientre de luz, bahías,
roca solar, cuerpo color de nube,
color de día rápido que salta,
la hora centellea y tiene cuerpo,
el mundo ya es visible por tu cuerpo,
es transparente por tu transparencia,

voy entre galerías de sonidos,
fluyo entre las presencias resonantes,
voy por las transparencias como un ciego,
un reflejo me borra, nazco en otro,
oh bosque de pilares encantados,
bajo los arcos de la luz penetro
los corredores de un otoño diáfano,

voy por tu cuerpo como por el mundo,

[...] Read more

poem by Octavio Paz
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Los Angeles

City of glam, city of crime
People are fake, you're no friend of mine
Club fights, dancing through the night
We're kids living the dream under the lights

We're in Los Angeles
Dancing through the night in Los Angeles
Hollywood trash in Los Angeles
Being ourselves in Los Angeles
Never losing Los Angeles

City of High, city of low
Selling drugs, we're losing our souls
Walking the strip with one goal
We're gonna live our dream, no one can stop us all

We're in Los Angeles
Dancing through the night in Los Angeles
Hollywood trash in Los Angeles
Being ourselves in Los Angeles
Never losing Los Angeles

Girls in my world
Music in my ears
Pain in my tears
Rock in my veins
Nothing in my brain
I think i'm going insane
That's all i need in Los Angeles

We're in Los Angeles
Dancing through the night in Los Angeles
Hollywood trash in Los Angeles
Being ourselves in Los Angeles
Never losing Los Angeles

We're in Los Angeles
Dancing through the night in Los Angeles
Hollywood trash in Los Angeles
Being ourselves in Los Angeles
Never losing Los Angeles

poem by anonym
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The Independent Bee

A hive of bees, as I've heard say,
Said to their Queen one sultry day,
"Please your Majesty's high position,
The hive is full and the weather is warm,
We rather think, with a due submission,
The time has come when we ought to swarm."
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.
Up spake their Queen and thus spake she -
"This is a matter that rests with me,
Who dares opinions thus to form?
I'LL tell you when it is time to swarm!"
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.

Her Majesty wore an angry frown,
In fact, her Majesty's foot was down -
Her Majesty sulked - declined to sup -
In short, her Majesty's back was up.
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.
Her foot was down and her back was up!

That hive contained one obstinate bee
(His name was Peter), and thus spake he -
"Though every bee has shown white feather,
To bow to tyranny I'm not prone -
Why should a hive swarm all together?
Surely a bee can swarm alone?"
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.
Upside down and inside out,
Backwards, forwards, round about,
Twirling here and twisting there,
Topsy turvily everywhere -
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.
Pitiful sight it was to see
Respectable elderly high-class bee,
Who kicked the beam at sixteen stone,
Trying his best to swarm alone!
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.
Trying his best to swarm alone!

The hive were shocked to see their chum
(A strict teetotaller) teetotum -
The Queen exclaimed, "How terrible, very!
It's perfectly clear to all the throng
Peter's been at the old brown sherry.
Old brown sherry is much too strong -
Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.
Of all who thus themselves degrade,
A stern example must be made,
To Coventry go, you tipsy bee!"
So off to Coventry town went he.

[...] Read more

poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Fly Trouble

(all lyrics are spoken except 4 the chorus an buzz buzz buzz)
(its spoken but the words are sed with a hint of beatto them, know wut I mean? )
Did you ever sit straight up in bed
With somethin a circlin round ya head
An ya swat at it as it wizzes by
And its just one pesky little fly
You shake ya head an twitch ya nose
And settle down to sweep ya floors
And when ya just about to dose...fly trouble
(chorus)buzz buzz buzz goes that busy little fly
Buzz buzz buzz hes takin off an hide
You roll the paper up nice and tight
And wait around for him to light
But theirs a fly thats a liven right
Buzz buzz buzz
(band plays)
Now the toughest hide grows on a mule
Cause hes a bulky stuborn fool
He likes to look at yu and glare
An never even move a hair
But when his muscles start to twitch
An when his tail begins to swish
That mule aint bothered with an itch...fly trouble
(chorus)buzz buzz buzz goes that busy little pest
Buzz buzz buzz that mule cant get no rest
He shakes his head an bats his eye
An kicks his heels up to the sky
Did you ever see a jass ack cry
Buzz buzz buzz
(band plays)
Now you pick a perfect night in june
When flowers are bloomin beneath the moon
And ya light of love is shinin bright
An you tell ya self tonights the night
Ya brace ya self an ya courage grows
An on ya knees where you would propose
When somethin bights you on the nose...fly trouble
(chorus)buzz buzz buzz goes that busy little thing
Buzz buzz buzz you swat an loose the ring
You fan the air as he goes by
An stick ya finger in your eye
Hit everything except that fly
Buzz buzz buzz

song performed by Hank Williams
Added by Lucian Velea
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Peter Bell, A Tale

PROLOGUE

There's something in a flying horse,
There's something in a huge balloon;
But through the clouds I'll never float
Until I have a little Boat,
Shaped like the crescent-moon.

And now I 'have' a little Boat,
In shape a very crescent-moon
Fast through the clouds my boat can sail;
But if perchance your faith should fail,
Look up--and you shall see me soon!

The woods, my Friends, are round you roaring,
Rocking and roaring like a sea;
The noise of danger's in your ears,
And ye have all a thousand fears
Both for my little Boat and me!

Meanwhile untroubled I admire
The pointed horns of my canoe;
And, did not pity touch my breast,
To see how ye are all distrest,
Till my ribs ached, I'd laugh at you!

Away we go, my Boat and I--
Frail man ne'er sate in such another;
Whether among the winds we strive,
Or deep into the clouds we dive,
Each is contented with the other.

Away we go--and what care we
For treasons, tumults, and for wars?
We are as calm in our delight
As is the crescent-moon so bright
Among the scattered stars.

Up goes my Boat among the stars
Through many a breathless field of light,
Through many a long blue field of ether,
Leaving ten thousand stars beneath her:
Up goes my little Boat so bright!

The Crab, the Scorpion, and the Bull--
We pry among them all; have shot
High o'er the red-haired race of Mars,
Covered from top to toe with scars;
Such company I like it not!

[...] Read more

poem by William Wordsworth
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Buzz Aldrin, Space Imperialist

Buzz Aldrin, Space Imperialist,
discovers a tiny brown lesion
on the end of his nose.
he uses his wife’s
concave make up mirror
to examine it more closely
and confirms his worse suspicions:
It’s malignant.
Coolly, he makes
one appointment with his dermatologist
and another in Samara.
After brushing his teeth
he takes another look
at the tiny brown Angel of Death.
It flakes off
-a brown booger.
Buzz cancels his appointments
and craves a celebratory drink terribly,
but summons his fantastic will power
and resists the urge.

II
Buzz Aldrin, Space Imperialist,
lands on the Dark Side of the Moon
and meets the indigenous Moonpupiks,
who are heavily armed yet friendly.
He has sex with many tribeswomen,
but fends off the attentions of the polymorphous perverse
tribesmen, and tells all that they must
dropp their religion and adopt the
State Religion of NASA, Tanglicanism,
which uses Tang for communion wine.
The natives say they don’t mind a bit
as they are lapsed Moonitarians
and were looking for something to fill the gap.
Disappointed they don’t offer more conversion resistance,
Buzz orders the leaders beheaded
and claims the Dark Side of the Moon
in the name of Rio Tinto,
an Australian mining corporation
whose logo he wears on his helmet
and ship.
Then he wakes up.

II(a)
Buzz Aldrin, Space Imperialist
takes another nap and,
against the advice of his fellow astronauts,
brings 4 or 5 Moonpupiks (MOON pu pix)
back to the Court of Richard Nixon, Imperial Vizard,

[...] Read more

poem by Percy Dovetonsils
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Los Angeles

I met a man
He was a good man
Sailing and shoring
Dancing the beta can-can
Making me foreign
Oh yeah
I want to live in los angeles
Not the one in los angeles
No, not the one in south california
The got one in south patagonia
I want to live in los angeles
Not the one in los angeles
They got a bunch down in moleville
They got a bunch more still
I want to live in los angeles
Not the one is los angeles
They got one in twenty-five two five
Works just like a beehive
I want to live in los angeles
Not the one in los angeles
Counting helicopters on a saturday night
The symphony of the fair light
I hear them saying los angeles
In all the black and white movies
And if you think they star-spangled us
How come we say los angeleez?
Ill wait in los angeles
Ill wait in the pouring sun
No way
For not anyone
No way
I met a man
He was a good man
Sailing and shoring
He got a betatron, man
Talking that foreign
Oh yeah
Ill wait in los angeles
Ill wait in the pouring sun
No way
For not anyone
No way

song performed by Frank Black
Added by Lucian Velea
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Himno A Los Voluntarios De La República

Voluntario de España, miliciano
de huesos fidedignos, cuando marcha a morir tu corazón,
cuando marcha a matar con su agonía
mundial, no sé verdaderamente
qué hacer, dónde ponerme; corro, escribo, aplaudo,
lloro, atisbo, destrozo, apagan, digo
a mi pecho que acabe, al que bien, que venga,
y quiero desgraciarme;
descúbrome la frente impersonal hasta tocar
el vaso de la sangre, me detengo,
detienen mi tamaño esas famosas caídas de arquitecto
con las que se honra el animal que me honra;
refluyen mis instintos a sus sogas,
humea ante mi tumba la alegría
y, otra vez, sin saber qué hacer, sin nada, déjame,
desde mi piedra en blanco, déjame,
solo,
cuadrumano, más acá, mucho más lejos,
al no caber entre mis manos tu largo rato extático,
quiebro con tu rapidez de doble filo
mi pequeñez en traje de grandeza!

Un día diurno, claro, atento, fértil
¡oh bienio, el de los lóbregos semestres suplicantes,
por el que iba la pólvora mordiéndose los codos!
¡oh dura pena y más duros pedernales!
!oh frenos los tascados por el pueblo!
Un día prendió el pueblo su fósforo cautivo, oró de cólera
y soberanamente pleno, circular,
cerró su natalicio con manos electivas;
arrastraban candado ya los déspotas
y en el candado, sus bacterias muertas...

¿Batallas? ¡No! Pasiones. Y pasiones precedidas
de dolores con rejas de esperanzas,
de dolores de pueblos con esperanzas de hombres!
¡Muerte y pasión de paz, las populares!

¡Muerte y pasión guerreras entre olivos, entendámosnos!
Tal en tu aliento cambian de agujas atmosféricas los vientos
y de llave las tumbas en tu pecho,
tu frontal elevándose a primera potencia de martirio.

El mundo exclama: '¡Cosas de españoles!' Y es verdad.
Consideremos,
durante una balanza, a quema ropa,
a Calderon, dormido sobre la cola de un anfibio muerto
o a Cervantes, diciendo: 'Mi reino es de este mundo, pero
también del otro': ¡punta y filo en dos papeles!
Contemplemos a Goya, de hinojos y rezando ante un espejo,

[...] Read more

poem by Cesar Vallejo
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Me Da Igual

Me da igual, me da igual
Que me hablen de la vida
O de la muerte tambin
Me da igual, me da igual
que me hablen de los buenos
O de los malos tambin. . . .
Se acabaron los refuerzos
De una guerra siempre injusta
Hoy slo quedan los desechos de las almas justas
Se acabaron los amigos
Se acabaron los vecinos
Hoy slo quedan los sucesos de los asesinos
coro:
Me da igual, me da igual
Que me hablen de la vida
O de la muerte tambin
Me da igual, me da igual
Que me hablen de los buenos
O de los malos tambin. . . .
Se acabaron los valores
De la sangre y del pota
Hoy slo quedan los residuos de una patria muerta
Ya acabaron con el mundo
Ya acabaron con los hijos
Hoy solo quedan los recuerdos de los aos vivos
coro (X2)
Me da igual, me da igual
Que me hablen de la vida
O de la muerte tambin
Me da igual, me da igual
Que ma hablen de los buenos
O de los malos tambin
Me da igual, me da igual
Me da igual, me da igual
Que me hablen de la vida
O de la muerte tambin
Se acabaron los refuerzos
De una guerra siempre injusta
Hoy slo quedan los desechos de las almas justas
Se acabaron los amigos
Se acabaron los vecinos
Hoy slo quedan los sucesos de los asesinos
Me da igual, me da igual
Que ma hablen de los buenos
O de los malos tambin

song performed by Juanes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Doll-Dagga Buzz-Buzz Ziggety-Zag

Doll-dagga buzz-buzz ziggety-zag
God mod grotesque burlesque drag
Doll-dagga buzz-buzz ziggety-zag
God mod grotesque burlesque drag
All the goose step girlies with their cursive faces and
We know it's all braile beneath their skirt
I'm bulletproof biz-op and swing heil and
I don't really care what gentlemen prefer
Say all you pindown girls and bonafied ballers
So manically depressed and manically dressed
We got a venus not in furs but in uniforms
If you're not dancing, then you're dead
Doll-dagga buzz-buzz ziggety-zag
God mod grotesque burlesque drag
Doll-dagga buzz-buzz ziggety-zag
God mod grotesque burlesque drag
All the thug rock kids are playing
All the punk god angels saying
The toys are us and we don't even know
All the thug rock kids are playing
All the punk god angels saying
The toys are us and we don't even know
GO! GO! GO! Doppelgangers!
You're one of us! You're one of us!
GO! GO! GO!
Throw your shapes, doppelgangers
You're one of us!
Trumpet mouth junky saints go silver tongue
Marching down the stairway to substance
Cocaingels and asses give me opiute masses
Fill up your church porn preachers and we'll fill up our glasses
Doll-dagga buzz-buzz ziggety-zag
God mod grotesque burlesque drag
Doll-dagga buzz-buzz ziggety-zag
God mod grotesque burlesque drag
All the thug rock kids are playing
All the punk god angels saying
The toys are us and we don't even know
All the thug rock kids are playing
All the punk god angels saying
The toys are us and we don't even know
GO! GO! GO! Doppelgangers!
You're one of us! You're one of us!
GO! GO! GO!
Throw your shapes, doppelgangers
You're one of us!
You're one of us!
You're one of us!
GO! GO! GO! GO! GO! GO! GO! GO!
And all the thug rock kids GO!

[...] Read more

song performed by Marilyn Manson
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Book of Urizen

PRELUDIUM TO THE [FIRST] BOOK OF URIZEN

Of the primeval Priests assum'd power,
When Eternals spurn'd back his religion;
And gave him a place in the north,
Obscure, shadowy, void, solitary.
Eternals I hear your call gladly,
Dictate swift winged words, & fear not
To unfold your dark visions of torment.

Chap: I

1. Lo, a shadow of horror is risen
In Eternity! Unknown, unprolific!
Self-closd, all-repelling: what Demon
Hath form'd this abominable void
This soul-shudd'ring vacuum? — Some said
"It is Urizen", But unknown, abstracted
Brooding secret, the dark power hid.

2. Times on times he divided, & measur'd
Space by space in his ninefold darkness
Unseen, unknown! changes appeard
In his desolate mountains rifted furious
By the black winds of perturbation

3. For he strove in battles dire
In unseen conflictions with shapes
Bred from his forsaken wilderness,
Of beast, bird, fish, serpent & element
Combustion, blast, vapour and cloud.

4. Dark revolving in silent activity:
Unseen in tormenting passions;
An activity unknown and horrible;
A self-contemplating shadow,
In enormous labours occupied

5. But Eternals beheld his vast forests
Age on ages he lay, clos'd, unknown
Brooding shut in the deep; all avoid
The petrific abominable chaos

6. His cold horrors silent, dark Urizen
Prepar'd: his ten thousands of thunders
Rang'd in gloom'd array stretch out across
The dread world, & the rolling of wheels
As of swelling seas, sound in his clouds
In his hills of stor'd snows, in his mountains

[...] Read more

poem by William Blake (1794)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Illegal Alien

Got out of bed, wasnt feeling too good
With my wallet and my passport, a new pair of shoes
The sun is shining so I head for the park,
With a bottle of tequila, and a new pack of cigarettes
I got a cousin and she got a friend,
Who thought that her aunt knew a man who could help
At his apartment I knocked on the door,
He wouldnt come out until he got paid.
Now dont tell anybody what I wanna do
If they find out you know that theyll never let me through, cos
Its no fun being an illegal alien, no
Its no fun being an illegal alien
Down at the office had to fill out the forms
A pink one, a red one, the colours you choose,
Up to the counter to see what they think
They said it doesnt count man, it aint written in ink.
I dont trust anybody, least not around here, cos
Its no fun being an illegal alien, I tell ya
Its no fun being an illegal alien, no no no no no
Its no fun being an illegal alien, I mean it when I tell ya that
Its no fun being an illegal alien,
An illegal alien, o.k.
Consideration for your fellow man
Would not hurt anybody, it sure fits in with my plan
Over the border, there lies the promised land
Where everything comes easy, you just hold out your hand
Keep your suspicions, Ive seen that look before
But I aint done nothing wrong now, is that such a suprise
But Ive got a sister whod be willing to oblige
She will do anything now to help me get to the outside
So dont tell anybody what I wanna do
If they find out you know that theyll never let me through, because
Its no fun being an illegal alien, I tell ya
Its no fun being an illegal alien, and its getting me down
Its no fun being an illegal alien, no no no no no
Its no fun being an illegal alien, yeah yeah yeah
Its no fun (not much fun) being an illegal alien, I tell ya that
Its no fun being an illegal alien, I tell ya
Its no fun being an illegal alien, no no no
Its no fun (not bloody much fun) being an illegal alien,
Its no fun being an illegal alien, and thats what I am.

song performed by Genesis
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 Only Way To Control Things

The only way to control things is with an open hand.
Water on rock
a fist can't do anything to stop the rain
that keeps washing its bloody knuckles
by kissing the raw red buds
of the pain-killing poppies clean.
Anger grows ashamed of itself
in the presence of unopposable compassion
just as planets are humbled by their atmospheres.
The soft supple things of life insist
and the hard brittle ones comply.
Bullies are the broken toys of wimps.
Power limps.
But space is an open hand.
Mass may shape it
but it teaches matter how to move
just as the sky converts its openness
into a cloud and a bird
or the silence nurtures
the embryo of a blue word
in the empty womb of the dark mother
like the echo of something that can't be said.

The only way to control things is with an open hand.
Not a posture of giving.
Not a posture of receiving.
Not a posture of greeting or farewell.
Not hanging on or letting go
but the single bridge they both make
when they're both at peace with the flow.
It's not the branch it's not the trunk
it's not the root it's not the fruit
but the open handedness of its leaves
that is a tree's consummate passion.
Isis tattoos her star on their palms
like sailors and sails
to keep them from drowning
and into the valleys of their open hands
that lie at the foot of their crook-backed mountains
the aloof stars risk the intimacy of fireflies
and fate flows down like tributaries into the mindstream
as life roots its wildflowers on both shores
as if there were no sides to the flowing
of our binary lifelines.

The only way to control things is with an open hand.
You cannot bind the knower to the knowing
as if time had to know where eternity was going
before anything could change.
X marks the spot where all maps are born

[...] Read more

poem by Patrick White
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Kick It In

Love gives me poetry
Stays up all night and puts a curse on me
Oh anything you want
Turn around and Ill take you there
I know its going to be
Take your shackles off o me
This citys gone, Im gone over there
Kick it in, kick it in
Build it up and burn it down again
Kick it in, kick it in
Burn down to the ground
Kick it in, kick it in
Tell me about this place youve been
I dont want it theres a fever going around
Take a walk down town
See whats going on
If you want to find a hidden key
Theres nothing here on me
Any city, anywhere
Any colour I dont care
You belong to me
And thats the way its gonna be
Kick it in, kick it in
Yeah kick it in, kick it in
Raise it up and let it live again
Feel your body shake and take off
You can lie but keep it in
Keep me down here wondering
So whats it going to be
Come on in
I like the shape youre in
You keep me wondering, wondering, wondering
Eyes upon you black and brown
Spread your love all over town
Give me fire, body heat
Say hello to me
I want to go anywhere
Any colour I dont care
Dont believe in all you see
And dont get caught
Kick it in, kick it in
Tell me about this love youve been
Kick it in, kick it in
Turn this life around
Kick it in, kick it in
Shake the ghosts from deep within
Close the door down
Dont let the demons in
Kick it in, kick it in
I only want to be your friend

[...] Read more

song performed by Simple Minds
Added by Lucian Velea
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Nobodys Fault But Mine

Nina simone
Ah, nobodys fault but mine
Nobodys fault but mine
Tryin to raise my soul to light
Ah, have a Bible in my home
Have a Bible in my home
Tryin to raise my soul to light
.. taught me how to read
.. taught me how to read
Tryin to raise my soul to light
Nobodys fault but mine.
Oh lord, nobodys fault but mine
Tryin to raise my soul to light
Ah have a Bible in my home
Have a Bible in my home
Tryin to raise my soul to light
Oh, buddy she taught me how to read
Buddy she taught me how to read
Tryin to raise my soul to light.
Ah, lord, lord, nobodys fault but mine
Bible and my soul tonight
And sister she taught me how to read
Sister she taught me how to read
Bible and my soul tonight.
Ah, no, no, nobodys fault but mine.
Bible and my soul tonight.
Nobodys fault but mine
Nobodys fault but mine
Tryin to raise my soul to the light
Nobodys fault but mine
Got a Bible in my home
Got a Bible in my home
Tryin to raise my soul to the light
Nobodys fault but mine - yeah!
Sister she taught me to roll
My sister she taught me to roll
I roll along the line
Nobodys fault but mine
Nobodys fault but mine
Nobodys fault but mine
Ill raise my soul to the light
Nobodys fault but mine
Take it on, take it on
I got a monkey on my back
I gotta monkey on my back, back, back
Ill raise my soul to the light
Nobodys fault but mine - yeah
Nobodys fault but mine
Nobodys fault but mine
Ill raise my soul to the light

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song performed by Nina Simone
Added by Lucian Velea
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Book the Second

Thou hearest the Nightingale begin the Song of Spring.
The Lark sitting upon his earthly bed, just as the morn
Apears, listens silent; then springing from the waving Corn-field loud
He leads the Choir of Day! trill, thrill, thrill, trill,
Mounting upon the wings of light into the great Expanse,
Reechoing against the lovely blue & shining heavenly Shell.
His little throat labours with inspiration; every feather
On throat & breast & wings vibrates with the effluence Divine.
All Nature listens silent to him, & the awful Sun
Stands still upon the Mountain looking on this little Bird
With eyes of soft humility & wonder, love & awe.
Then loud from their green covert all the Birds begin their Song:
The Thrush, the Linnet & the Goldfinch, Robin & the Wren
Awake the Sun from his sweet reverie upon the Mountain;
The Nightingale again assays his song, & thro’ the day
And thro’ the night warbles luxuriant, every Bird of Song
Attending his loud harmony with admiration & love.
This is a Vision of the lamentation of Beulah over Ololon.

Thou perceivest the Flowers put forth their precious Odours,
And none can tell how form so small a center comes such sweets,
Forgetting that within that Center Eternity expends
Its ever during doors that Og & Anak fiercely guard.
First, e’er the morning breaks, joy opens in the flowery bosoms,
Joy even to tears, which the
Sun rising dries; first the Wild Thyme
And Meadow-sweet, downy & soft, waving among the reeds,
Light springing on the air, lead the sweet Dance: they wake
The Honeysuckle sleeping on the Oak; the flaunting beauty
Revels along upon the wind; the White-thorn, lovely May,
Opens her many lovely eyes; listening the Rose still sleeps –
None dare to wake her; soon she bursts her crimson curtain’d bed
And comes forth in the majesty of beauty; every Flower,
The Pink, the Jessamine, the Wall-flower, the Carnation,
The Jonquil, the mild Lilly opes her heavens; every Tree
And Flower & Herb soon fill the air with an innumberable Dance,
Yet all in order sweet & lovely. Men are sick with Love.
Such is a Vision of the Lamentation of Beulah over Ololon.
And Milton oft sat upon the Couch of Death, & oft conversed
In vision & dream beatific with the Seven Angels of the Presence:
‘I have turned my back upon these Heavens builded on cruelty.
My Spectre still wandering thro’ them follows my Emanation;
He hunts her footsteps thro’ the snow & the wintry hail & rain.
The idiot Reasoner laughs at the Man of Imagination,
And from laughter proceeds o murder by undervaluing calumny.’
Then Hillel, who is Lucifer, replied over the Couch of Death,
And thus the Seven angels instructed him, & thus they converse:
‘We are not Individuals but States, Combinations of Individuals.
We were Angels of the Divine Presence, & were Druids in Annandale,
Compell’d to combine into Form by Satan, the Spectre of Albion,

[...] Read more

poem by William Blake from Milton (1810)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Crepusculo 3

Junto a la cuna aún no está encendida
la lámpara tibia, que alegra y reposa,
y se filtra opaca, por entre cortinas
de la tarde triste la luz azulosa.
Los niños cansados suspenden los juegos,
de la calle vienen extraños ruïdos,
en estos momentos, en todos los cuartos,
se van despertando los duendes dormidos.
La sombra que sube por los cortinajes,
para los hermosos oyentes pueriles,
se puebla y se llena con los personajes
de los tenebrosos cuentos infantiles.
Flota en ella el pobre Rin Rin Renacuajo,
corre y huye el triste Ratoncito Pérez,
y la entenebrece la forma del trágico
Barba Azul, que mata sus siete mujeres.
En unas distancias enormes e ignotas,
que por los rincones oscuros suscita,
andan por los prados el Gato con Botas,
y el Lobo que marcha con Caperucita.
Y, ágil caballero, cruzando la selva,
do vibra el ladrido fúnebre de un gozque,
a escape tendido va el Príncipe Rubio
a ver a la Hermosa Durmiente del Bosque.

Del infantil grupo se levanta leve
argentada y pura, una vocecilla,
que comienza: 'Entonces se fueron al baile
y dejaron sola a la Cenicentilla!
Se quedó la pobre triste en la cocina,
de llanto de pena nublados los ojos,
mirando los juegos extraños que hacían
en las sombras negras los carbones rojos.
Pero vino el Hada que era su madrina,
le trajo un vestido de encaje y crespones,
le hizo un coche de oro de una calabaza,
convirtió en caballos unos seis ratones,
le dio un ramo enorme de magnolias
[húmedas,
unos zapaticos de vidrio, brillantes,
y de un solo golpe de la vara mágica
las cenizas grises convirtió en diamantes!'

Con atento oído las niñas la escuchan,
las muñecas duermen, en la blanda alfombra
medio abandonadas, y en el aposento
la luz disminuye, se aumenta la sombra!

¡Fantásticos cuentos de duendes y hadas,
llenos de paisajes y de sugestiones,

[...] Read more

poem by Jose Asuncion Silva
Added by Poetry Lover
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Kick It Up

(jim robinson)
Well I work six days out of seven
Waiting all week for saturday night
Going out to neon heaven
Punch the clock on party time
Jamming this old pickup across the county line
Aint it good to be alive
Kick it up
Tell the boys in the band
Play it hot cause I came in here to dance
Kick it up
Give that country girl a whirl
My boots are gonna lose the blues when they turn those guitars up
Kick it up
Got my paycheck in my pocket
Darling well spend every dime
And when this bar starts rocking
Well show them all just how to unwind
Dont worry bout your troubles
Leave em at the door
And Ill meet you out on the floor
Kick it up
Tell the boys in the band
Make it smoke cause she came in here to dance
Kick it up
Give that country girl a whirl
My boots are gonna lose the blues when they turn those guitars up
Kick it up
Kick it up
When the boss man gets you down
Kick it up
If youre tired of the runaround
Kick it up
Yeah we know monday morning will be here before too long
So until the night is gone
Kick it up
Tell the boys in the band
Play it hot make it smoke cause we came here to dance
Kick it up
Give that country girl a whirl
My boots are gonna lose the blues when they turn those guitars up
Kick it up
Oh kick it up
Kick it up (kick it up)
Kick it up (kick it up)
Kick it up
Kick it up (kick it up)
Kick it up
Kick it up

song performed by John Michael Montgomery
Added by Lucian Velea
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Illegal Search

Yo baby
Put your seatbelt on
I got my paperwork, dont worry
Its cool
[ the flex ]
Illegal search
(do you wanna see it? )
(Im gonna do it)
[ verse 1 ]
What the hell are you lookin for?
Cant a young man make money anymore?
Wear my jewels and like freak it on the floor
Or is it my job to make sure Im poor?
Cant my car look better than yours?
Keep a cigar in between my jaws
I drink champagne, to hell with coors
Never sold coke in my life, I do tours
Get that flashlight out of my face
Im not a dog, so damn it, put away the mace
I got cash and real attorneys on the case
Youre just a joker perpetratin a ace
You got time, you wanna give me a taste
I dont smoke cigarettes, so why youre lookin for base?
You might plant a gun, and hope I run a race
Eatin in the messhall, sayin my grace
You tried to frame me, but it wont work
Illegal search
[ the flex ]
Keep on searchin
[ l.l. cool j ]
Im totally relaxed
[ the flex ]
Illegal searchin
[ l.l. cool j ]
Illegal search
[ the flex ]
Keep on searchin
Keep on searchin
Keep on searchin
Gotta, gotta, gotta...
[ verse 2 ]
I call it nice, you call it a drug car
I say disco, you call it a drug bar
I say nice guy, you call me mr. good bar
I made progress, you say, not that far
I just started it, youre searchin my car
But all my paperwork is up to par
Its in my uncles name, so the frame wont work
Chump - illegal search
[ the flex ]

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song performed by LL Cool J
Added by Lucian Velea
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