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Go Tell The Congregation

Here I am
There I was
Here I go
Just follow me
If it was
Then it can
And we know
How it will be
When it was
Just because
Yes you know
Its not a dream
Its just all
Cmon yall
Ill tell you
What I mean
When you want to lose your blues
Go tell the congregation
When theres nothing left that you can do
Go tell the congregation
When you want to tell the truth
Go tell the congregation
When the devils got a hold of you
Go tell the congregation
Dont look back
Stay on track
Its a fact
A lesson to me
Keep in stride
With your pride
Now you know
How strong you can be
Theres no time
Draw a line
Yes I know
That you can know me
Look alive
No surprise
Everybody wants to be free
Everything is everything

song performed by Black Crowes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tell Me The Answer

I doesnt feel right
The lights are too bright
Im feeling uptight in my sensual world
I need to be you
I need to breathe too
I need to see through life
With these sensitive words
I could blame it on you
I could blame it on my instincts
I could blame it on the train to the plane
The boat to the shore
So tell me whats the answer
No trouble in my face
Theres not one anxious voice
You know I cant listen
I cant listen
You say that you are everything
Do you taste good
So cmon, cmon, cmon
Cmon, cmon, cmon
No air around me
I need to feel free
Im private property
In my sensual world
No indecisions
I have a vision
Theres no collision there
With these sensitive words
I could blame it on you
I could blame it on my instincts
I could blame it on the train to the plane
The boat to the shore
So tell me whats the answer
No trouble in my face
Theres not one anxious voice
You know I cant listen
I cant listen
You say that you are everything
Do you taste good
So cmon, cmon, cmon
Cmon, cmon, cmon
No trouble in my face
Theres not one anxious voice
You know I cant listen
I cant listen
You say that you are everything
Do you taste good
So cmon, cmon, cmon
Cmon, cmon, cmon
No trouble in my face

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song performed by Texas
Added by Lucian Velea
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Cmon Love Me

Written by kim wilde & g. mcfarlane
Theres an endless sky and
Its just you and i
Youre close to me
We tried to say goodbye but
But we cant be that strong and let it be
Now I know lifes changed
And we cant expect to have things like they were before
But you want me, I want you
And theres nothing left for us to do
Before the night is through now
Cmon cmon cmon
Cmon cmon cmon
And love me, love me
Cmon cmon cmon
Cmon cmon cmon
And love me, love me
We dont close our eyes were
Looking deep inside and move so slow
Ooh this is making love it
Feels so good
Oh baby dont let go
When the morning comes
Well pray the dawn could never break another day
Then well kiss, say goodbye
And tomorrow Ill be on my way
But before were through now
Cmon cmon cmon
Cmon cmon cmon
And love me, love me
Cmon cmon cmon
Cmon cmon cmon
And love me, love me

song performed by Kim Wilde
Added by Lucian Velea
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Cmon Cmon Cmon

Cmon cmon cmon - were gonna make it home tonight
Cmon cmon cmon - everythings gonna be alright
The nite is alive - the world is asleep
Dreaming of promises they cant keep
We gotta be tough we gott a be strong
Its only love weve been waiting on
Cmon cmon cmon - were gonna make it home tonight
Cmon cmon cmon - everythings gonna be alright
Its only a dream - its all in your head
Its only some words somebody said
We can believe what we wanna believe
And you can believe in me
Cmon cmon cmon - were gonna make it home tonight
Cmon cmon cmon - everythings gonna be alright
Cmon cmon cmon - were gonna make it home tonight
Cmon cmon cmon - everythings gonna be alright

song performed by Bryan Adams
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ozone Mama

Written by: r. robinson & c. robinson
Its a trip yall
Git hip to this yall
It will git yall
Gonna hit yall
Never quit yall
Right in the middle of our minds
The bug that bit yall
Make ya itch yall
Inch by inch yall
Til your tall yall
See it all yall
Near and far yall
We wont ever let it drag
This funny feeling got me reeling
Like Im walking on the ceiling
Do it to me now
Chorus:
Ozone mama lay your daddy down
Under the stars right down on the ground
Mother nature got me thinking
bout the love that youve been bringin
Do it to me now
Cmon the ride yall
We provide yall
Its like this yall
Never miss yall
Git up and go yall
Ya never know yall
We be the bottom of your bag
Give a call yall
Anytime yall
Dont be slow yall
Ya gotta know yall
On with the show yall
Bring it all yall
We dont ever have to brag
Well you got this poor boy thinking
Your lovin cup Ive been drinking
Do it to me now

song performed by Black Crowes
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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Cmon Baby Let The Good Times Roll

Cmon baby, let the good times roll
Cmon baby, let me thrill your soul
Cmon baby youre the best there is,
Roll all night long.
Cmon baby, lets close the door,
Cmon baby, lets ride some more,
Cmon baby, let the good times roll,
Roll all night long.
I feel so good when youre home.
Come on baby, lets ride some more
Cmon baby, rock me all night long!
Cmon baby, lets close the door
Cmon baby, lets ride some more
Cmon baby, let the good times roll,
Roll all night long.
Cmon baby, let the good times roll
Cmon baby, let me thrill your soul
Cmon baby youre the best there is,
Roll all night long.
Cmon baby, lets close the door
Cmon baby, lets ride some more
Cmon baby, let the good times roll,
Yeah, roll all night long.
Feels so good when youre home
Come on baby, rock me all night long!
Cmon baby, lets close the door
Cmon baby, lets ride some more
Cmon baby, let the good times roll,
Yeah, roll all night long.
I feel so good when youre home.
Come on baby, rock me all night long!
Cmon baby, lets close the door
Cmon baby, lets ride some more
Cmon baby, let the good times roll,
Yeah, roll all night long.
Roll all night long,
Roll all night long.

song performed by Janis Joplin
Added by Lucian Velea
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

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poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Wild Thing

Wild thing
I think I love you
Wild thing
I wanna know for sure
Wild thing
Cmon hold me tight
Wild thing
I love you
Cmon...
Wild thing
You make my heart sing
You make everything groovy
Wild thing
Wild thing
I think I love you
But I wanna know for sure
Cmon on, hold me tight
I love you
Wild thing
I think you move me
But I wanna know for sure
Cmon... cmon
Wild thing
You make my heart sing
You make everything groovy
Cmon...
Wild thing
Hey... wild thing
I think I love you
But I wanna know for sure
Cmon now, hold me tight
I love you
Wild thing
I think you move me
But I wanna know for sure
Cmon baby... cmon
Wild thing
You make my heart sing
Yeah, you make everything groovy
Cmon...
Wild thing
Wild thing
I think I love you
Wild thing
But I wanna know for sure
Wild thing
Hold me tight
Wild thing
Cmon...
Wild thing

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song performed by Bryan Adams
Added by Lucian Velea
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Cmon

Cmon cmon cmon
When nothings funny
It gets easy to laugh
At the drop of a hat or a bomb
When someones screaming
Its hard to ignore
Like the shot of a gun cmon
Lets run to a place somewhere
The party never ends
Lets run till theres no way
To go on cmon
Cant you hear the sirens blowing
Cant you hear them call
Cant you see the lasers probing
Brighter than the sun
Lets run
Cmon cmon cmon
Cmon cmon cmon
Lets run from a promise
That could never be kept
Lets run or its sure to chase us down
Well cmon lets run
Cmon lets run
Cmon lets run
Well cmon
Cmon cmon cmon
When no ones laughing
You can bet theyve been paid
Not to find out whats going on
When somethings funny
Theres a feeling you get
Its the grip of a threat cmon

song performed by Devo
Added by Lucian Velea
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V. Count Guido Franceschini

Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I. The Ring and the Book

Do you see this Ring?
'T is Rome-work, made to match
(By Castellani's imitative craft)
Etrurian circlets found, some happy morn,
After a dropping April; found alive
Spark-like 'mid unearthed slope-side figtree-roots
That roof old tombs at Chiusi: soft, you see,
Yet crisp as jewel-cutting. There's one trick,
(Craftsmen instruct me) one approved device
And but one, fits such slivers of pure gold
As this was,—such mere oozings from the mine,
Virgin as oval tawny pendent tear
At beehive-edge when ripened combs o'erflow,—
To bear the file's tooth and the hammer's tap:
Since hammer needs must widen out the round,
And file emboss it fine with lily-flowers,
Ere the stuff grow a ring-thing right to wear.
That trick is, the artificer melts up wax
With honey, so to speak; he mingles gold
With gold's alloy, and, duly tempering both,
Effects a manageable mass, then works:
But his work ended, once the thing a ring,
Oh, there's repristination! Just a spirt
O' the proper fiery acid o'er its face,
And forth the alloy unfastened flies in fume;
While, self-sufficient now, the shape remains,
The rondure brave, the lilied loveliness,
Gold as it was, is, shall be evermore:
Prime nature with an added artistry—
No carat lost, and you have gained a ring.
What of it? 'T is a figure, a symbol, say;
A thing's sign: now for the thing signified.

Do you see this square old yellow Book, I toss
I' the air, and catch again, and twirl about
By the crumpled vellum covers,—pure crude fact
Secreted from man's life when hearts beat hard,
And brains, high-blooded, ticked two centuries since?
Examine it yourselves! I found this book,
Gave a lira for it, eightpence English just,
(Mark the predestination!) when a Hand,
Always above my shoulder, pushed me once,
One day still fierce 'mid many a day struck calm,
Across a Square in Florence, crammed with booths,
Buzzing and blaze, noontide and market-time,
Toward Baccio's marble,—ay, the basement-ledge
O' the pedestal where sits and menaces
John of the Black Bands with the upright spear,
'Twixt palace and church,—Riccardi where they lived,
His race, and San Lorenzo where they lie.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Truth Through Repetition

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poem by David Keig
Added by Poetry Lover
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VII. Pompilia

I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.

All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.

Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sugababes On The Run

Time to turn up the fun yall fun yall
(shake it, shake it, shake it, shake it)
Sugababes on the run yall run yall
(shake it, shake it, shake it shake it)
Time to turn up the fun yall fun yall
(shake it, shake it, shake it, shake it)
Sugababies on the run yall run yall
(shake it, shake it, shake it shake it)
They say that Im too young to rave
And my kerf is 12
But I dont wanna stay inside
While they enjoy themselves
My friends are talking
Feel like Im missing out
On what theyre doing
Not much longer
Bounce up and down with my older friends (older friends)
The over 18s where the party never ends
Its not like the ladies have got the problems
So at least 19 they pushing their benz
Never too old can you work and live with that
Young and free and I want it like that
And I aint giving it up
Its hard growing up so fast
Trying hard to make my childhood last forever
All the fellas trying to make a pass
Im still trying to make it last forever
They say that Im too young
To have any boyfriends
But if I was to met someone
Would you stop me
Im aint too young
To understand
You know the game
Im telling you
Bounce up and down with my older friends (older friends)
The over 18s where the party never ends
Its not like the ladies have got the problems
So at least 19 they pushing their benz
Never too old can you work and live with that
Young and free and I want it like that
And I aint giving it up
Its hard growing up so fast
Trying hard to make my childhood last forever
All the fellas trying to make a pass
Im still trying to make it last forever
Its hard growing up so fast
Trying hard to make my childhood last forever
All the fellas trying to make a pass
Im still trying to make it last forever

[...] Read more

song performed by Sugababes
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Parish Register - Part III: Burials

THERE was, 'tis said, and I believe, a time
When humble Christians died with views sublime;
When all were ready for their faith to bleed,
But few to write or wrangle for their creed;
When lively Faith upheld the sinking heart,
And friends, assured to meet, prepared to part;
When Love felt hope, when Sorrow grew serene,
And all was comfort in the death-bed scene.
Alas! when now the gloomy king they wait,
'Tis weakness yielding to resistless fate;
Like wretched men upon the ocean cast,
They labour hard and struggle to the last;
'Hope against hope,' and wildly gaze around
In search of help that never shall be found:
Nor, till the last strong billow stops the breath,
Will they believe them in the jaws of Death!
When these my Records I reflecting read,
And find what ills these numerous births succeed;
What powerful griefs these nuptial ties attend;
With what regret these painful journeys end;
When from the cradle to the grave I look,
Mine I conceive a melancholy book.
Where now is perfect resignation seen?
Alas! it is not on the village-green: -
I've seldom known, though I have often read,
Of happy peasants on their dying-bed;
Whose looks proclaimed that sunshine of the breast,
That more than hope, that Heaven itself express'd.
What I behold are feverish fits of strife,
'Twixt fears of dying and desire of life:
Those earthly hopes, that to the last endure;
Those fears, that hopes superior fail to cure;
At best a sad submission to the doom,
Which, turning from the danger, lets it come.
Sick lies the man, bewilder'd, lost, afraid,
His spirits vanquish'd, and his strength decay'd;
No hope the friend, the nurse, the doctor lend -
'Call then a priest, and fit him for his end.'
A priest is call'd; 'tis now, alas! too late,
Death enters with him at the cottage-gate;
Or time allow'd--he goes, assured to find
The self-commending, all-confiding mind;
And sighs to hear, what we may justly call
Death's common-place, the train of thought in all.
'True I'm a sinner,' feebly he begins,
'But trust in Mercy to forgive my sins:'
(Such cool confession no past crimes excite!
Such claim on Mercy seems the sinner's right!)
'I know mankind are frail, that God is just,
And pardons those who in his Mercy trust;

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
Added by Poetry Lover
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Little Lover

(nash / clarke)
You leave me sad and lonely
Sitting here oh so blue
Since you went away and told me, baby,
Yeah that were through
Now baby, cmon (cmon little lover)
Yeah cmon (cmon little lover)
Yeah cmon little lover
Cmon and discover
My love for you
Trying to forget you
Getting you outta my mind
Im gonna search all over this world
And find some other kind
Now some other lover (cmon little lover)
Some other lover (cmon little lover)
Cmon little lover
Cmon and discover
My love for you
Break
Writing you a letter
Feeling oh so blue
Ive been crying my heart out baby
Since you said were through
Now baby cmon (cmon little lover)
Yeah cmon (cmon little lover)
Yeah cmon little lover
Cmon and discover
My love for you

song performed by Hollies
Added by Lucian Velea
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Satan Absolved

(In the antechamber of Heaven. Satan walks alone. Angels in groups conversing.)
Satan. To--day is the Lord's ``day.'' Once more on His good pleasure
I, the Heresiarch, wait and pace these halls at leisure
Among the Orthodox, the unfallen Sons of God.
How sweet in truth Heaven is, its floors of sandal wood,
Its old--world furniture, its linen long in press,
Its incense, mummeries, flowers, its scent of holiness!
Each house has its own smell. The smell of Heaven to me
Intoxicates and haunts,--and hurts. Who would not be
God's liveried servant here, the slave of His behest,
Rather than reign outside? I like good things the best,
Fair things, things innocent; and gladly, if He willed,
Would enter His Saints' kingdom--even as a little child.

[Laughs. I have come to make my peace, to crave a full amaun,
Peace, pardon, reconcilement, truce to our daggers--drawn,
Which have so long distraught the fair wise Universe,
An end to my rebellion and the mortal curse
Of always evil--doing. He will mayhap agree
I was less wholly wrong about Humanity
The day I dared to warn His wisdom of that flaw.
It was at least the truth, the whole truth, I foresaw
When He must needs create that simian ``in His own
Image and likeness.'' Faugh! the unseemly carrion!
I claim a new revision and with proofs in hand,
No Job now in my path to foil me and withstand.
Oh, I will serve Him well!
[Certain Angels approach. But who are these that come
With their grieved faces pale and eyes of martyrdom?
Not our good Sons of God? They stop, gesticulate,
Argue apart, some weep,--weep, here within Heaven's gate!
Sob almost in God's sight! ay, real salt human tears,
Such as no Spirit wept these thrice three thousand years.
The last shed were my own, that night of reprobation
When I unsheathed my sword and headed the lost nation.
Since then not one of them has spoken above his breath
Or whispered in these courts one word of life or death
Displeasing to the Lord. No Seraph of them all,
Save I this day each year, has dared to cross Heaven's hall
And give voice to ill news, an unwelcome truth to Him.
Not Michael's self hath dared, prince of the Seraphim.
Yet all now wail aloud.--What ails ye, brethren? Speak!
Are ye too in rebellion? Angels. Satan, no. But weak
With our long earthly toil, the unthankful care of Man.

Satan. Ye have in truth good cause.

Angels. And we would know God's plan,
His true thought for the world, the wherefore and the why
Of His long patience mocked, His name in jeopardy.

[...] Read more

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Dont Say Nothin

Yo
When I released my first single back in like 86
People was like oh you know thats popcorn and you know they weak
You know then I mess around I go world trade on them
Bangin out them multi plastic still got negativity to bring
My thing is you cant say nothing nice dont say nothing
Take your place allow me to flex a taste
As my accomplishments bring up my comp like mase
Face me the star of stage and tv
My face be seen in almost every country
Grammy winner soon to be oscar nominee
Who he thats dressed jiggy straight from west philly
Thought I was whack cause I wanted to act
Now every brother and his mother that rap be trying to do that
The ill kid
Hundred million dollar bill kid
The one you love to chill with come on keep it real kid
Dont try to act like this summer at the greek
You wont be bumpin the big willie in your jeep
I know yall still feel me
Really dont act silly
Thought I feel off just becuase I left philly
Took a break from the rap thing went on hiatus
I picked up the art of acting and multiplied papers
I chilled on silk sofas chatting with operah
She asked me if its true that me and jeff broke up
While yall kids busy playing drug pimp and playa
I was at my crib in barbados chillin with jada
Vertex is me the magnanamous
God you sayin damn Ive always been a fan of his
Yall know how it is oh wait hold up yall dont
Look here yall dont say nothing than I wont
Just dont say nothing
Man I love being me ready to rock the block
With some more hot top notch for you to cop
No more mr nice guy
My whole life Ive been smiling when I felt like whiling
Jealousy swinging on me made his attack
He soft he whack man that aint real rap
You beleive that
It hurt me at first but its cool
Took the insults feed it to my ego for fuel
Now everywhere I turn a dead end
Hundred women coming at me waving pads and pens
And they be screaming out
Oh my lord
Did you see its that brother from
Id4
Now can I please get
A picture and your signature

[...] Read more

song performed by Will Smith
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Loves of the Angels

'Twas when the world was in its prime,
When the fresh stars had just begun
Their race of glory and young Time
Told his first birth-days by the sun;
When in the light of Nature's dawn
Rejoicing, men and angels met
On the high hill and sunny lawn,-
Ere sorrow came or Sin had drawn
'Twixt man and heaven her curtain yet!
When earth lay nearer to the skies
Than in these days of crime and woe,
And mortals saw without surprise
In the mid-air angelic eyes
Gazing upon this world below.

Alas! that Passion should profane
Even then the morning of the earth!
That, sadder still, the fatal stain
Should fall on hearts of heavenly birth-
And that from Woman's love should fall
So dark a stain, most sad of all!

One evening, in that primal hour,
On a hill's side where hung the ray
Of sunset brightening rill and bower,
Three noble youths conversing lay;
And, as they lookt from time to time
To the far sky where Daylight furled
His radiant wing, their brows sublime
Bespoke them of that distant world-
Spirits who once in brotherhood
Of faith and bliss near ALLA stood,
And o'er whose cheeks full oft had blown
The wind that breathes from ALLA'S throne,
Creatures of light such as still play,
Like motes in sunshine, round the Lord,
And thro' their infinite array
Transmit each moment, night and day,
The echo of His luminous word!

Of Heaven they spoke and, still more oft,
Of the bright eyes that charmed them thence;
Till yielding gradual to the soft
And balmy evening's influence-
The silent breathing of the flowers-
The melting light that beamed above,
As on their first, fond, erring hours,-
Each told the story of his love,
The history of that hour unblest,
When like a bird from its high nest

[...] Read more

poem by Thomas Moore
Added by Poetry Lover
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