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Oh, how stingy this elite can be, wearing the same mask for hundreds and hundreds of years !

quote by Octav Bibere
Added by Kitzy Bush
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Mask

You're wearing a mask
You're wearing a mask
You're wearing a mask
You look better that way
You're wearing a mask
You're wearing a mask
You're wearing a mask
You look better that way
Are you my friend ?
Are you my plumber ?
Are you my God ?
What do you do ?
Wearing a mask
You're wearing a mask
You're wearing a mask
Which mask are you ?
Which mask are you ?
Complicated crushed up disappointed squirming angry thrusting stabbing regretting starving greedy human alien being, struggling down the street, up the alley, in the elevator, through the party, to the office, in the bedroom, on your way to the morgue. Bullshitting, lying, doing a good deed or feeling loved barely possible. Aware of insatiable demands of not a society all around you. Chunky frat boys in their shorts, pimps with old semite eyes, sex hoochies of the jungle, sensitive smart alec college graduates, critics fronting franticly in New York city, every body in L.A just plain licking ass or having it licked, irony in place of balls, balls in place of brains, brains in place of soul, where is the soul?, where is the love?, where am i?
Which mask are you ?
Which mask are you ?
Which mask are you ?
You're wearing a mask
You're wearing a mask
You're wearing a mask
which mask are you ?

song performed by Iggy Pop
Added by Lucian Velea
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Silas Stingy

Once upon a time there lived an old miser man
Once upon a time there lived an old miser man
By the name of silas stingy
By the name of silas stingy
He carried all his money in a little black box
He carried all his money in a little black box
Which was heavy as a rock
Which was heavy as a rock
With a big padlock
With a big padlock
All the little kids would shout
All the little kids would shout
When silas was about
When silas was about
Chorus:
Chorus:
Money, money, money bags
Money, money, money bags
Money, money, money bags
Money, money, money bags
There goes mingy stingy
There goes mingy stingy
There goes mingy stingy
There goes mingy stingy
Money, money, money bags
Money, money, money bags
Money, money, money bags
Money, money, money bags
There goes mingy stingy
There goes mingy stingy
There goes mingy stingy
There goes mingy stingy
Silas didnt eat, which was just as well
Silas didnt eat, which was just as well
He would starve himself for a penny
He would starve himself for a penny
He wore old clothes and he never washed
He wore old clothes and he never washed
cause soap cost a lot
cause soap cost a lot
And the dirt kept him hot
And the dirt kept him hot
All the little kids would shout
All the little kids would shout
When silas was about
When silas was about
(chorus)
(chorus)
In the back of his head
In the back of his head

[...] Read more

song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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Saltbush Bill's Second Flight

The news came down on the Castlereagh, and went to the world at large,
That twenty thousand travelling sheep, with Saltbush Bill in charge,
Were drifting down from a dried-out run to ravage the Castlereagh;
And the squatters swore when they heard the news, and wished they were well away:
For the name and the fame of Saltbush Bill were over the country-side
For the wonderful way that he fed his sheep, and the dodges and tricks he tried.
He would lose his way on a Main Stock Route, and stray to the squatters' grass;
He would come to a run with the boss away, and swear he had leave to pass;
And back of all and behind it all, as well the squatters knew,
If he had to fight, he would fight all day, so long as his sheep got through:
But this is the story of Stingy Smith, the owner of Hard Times Hill,
And the way that he chanced on a fighting man to reckon with Saltbush Bill.

'Twas Stingy Smith on his stockyard sat, and prayed for an early Spring,
When he started at sight of a clean-shaved tramp, who walked with a jaunty swing;
For a clean-shaved tramp with a jaunty walk a-swinging along the track
Is as rare a thing as a feathered frog on the desolate roads out back.
So the tramp he made for the travellers' hut, to ask could he camp the night;
But Stingy Smith had a bright idea, and called to him, "Can you fight?"
"Why, what's the game?" said the clean-shaved tramp, as he looked at him up and down;
"If you want a battle, get off that fence, and I'll kill you for half-a-crown!
But, Boss, you'd better not fight with me -- it wouldn't be fair nor right;
I'm Stiffener Joe, from the Rocks Brigade, and I killed a man in a fight:
I served two years for it, fair and square, and now I'm trampin' back,
To look for a peaceful quiet life away on the outside track."

"Oh, it's not myself, but a drover chap," said Stingy Smith with glee,
"A bullying fellow called Saltbush Bill, and you are the man for me.
He's on the road with his hungry sheep, and he's certain to raise a row,
For he's bullied the whole of the Castlereagh till he's got them under cow --
Just pick a quarrel and raise a fight, and leather him good and hard,
And I'll take good care that his wretched sheep don't wander a half a yard.
It's a five-pound job if you belt him well -- do anything short of kill,
For there isn't a beak on the Castlereagh will fine you for Saltbush Bill."

"I'll take the job," said the fighting man; "and, hot as this cove appears,
He'll stand no chance with a bloke like me, what's lived on the game for years;
For he's maybe learnt in a boxing school, and sparred for a round or so,
But I've fought all hands in a ten-foot ring each night in a travelling show;
They earned a pound if they stayed three rounds, and they tried for it every night.
In a ten-foot ring! Oh, that's the game that teaches a bloke to fight,
For they'd rush and clinch -- it was Dublin Rules, and we drew no colour line;
And they all tried hard for to earn the pound, but they got no pound of mine.
If I saw no chance in the opening round I'd slog at their wind, and wait
Till an opening came -- and it always came -- and I settled 'em, sure as fate;
Left on the ribs and right on the jaw -- and, when the chance comes, make sure!
And it's there a professional bloke like me gets home on an amateur:
For it's my experience every day, and I make no doubt it's yours,
That a third-class pro is an over-match for the best of the amateurs --"
"Oh, take your swag to the travellers' hut," said Smith, "for you waste your breath;

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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The Right Mask

One night a poem came up to a poet
From now on, it said, you must wear a mask.
What kind of mask? asked the poet.
A rose mask, said the poem.
I've used it already, said the poet,
I've exhausted it.
Then wear the mask that's made out of
a nightingale's song, use that mask.
Oh, it's an old mask, said the poet,
it's all used up.
Nonsense, said the poem, it's the perfect mask,
still, try on the god mask,
now that mask illuminates heaven.
It's a tight mask, said the poet,
and the stars crawl about in it like ants.
Then try on the troubador's mask, or the singer's mask,
try on all the popular masks.
I have, said the poet, but they fit so easily.

The poem was getting impatient,
it stamped its feet like a child,
it screamed. Then try on your own face,
try the one mask that terrifies,
the mask only you could possibly use,
the mask only you could wear out.

The poet tore at his face til it bled,
this mask? he yelled, this mask?
Yes, said the poem, yes.

But the poet was tired of masks,
he had lived too long with them,
he snatched at the poem and stuck it in his face.
Its screams were muffled, it wept, it tried to be lyrical,
it wriggled into his eyes and mouth.

Next day his friends were afraid of him,
he looked so distorted.
Now it's the right mask, said the poem, the right mask.
It clung to him lovingly and never let go again.

poem by Brian Patten
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Stingy

You know what, baby
I need to tell you somethin and
Its somethin very important, you know
I want you to just take this time out and just listen very close
You hear me, listen
Can I have you for a minute, dont get shy cause my hearts in it
When I say you got me strung out
I dont know and I cant call it, but whatever it is you got it, nah, babe
Without a doubt, yeah
Never been the one to play and I dont like to be needed
But now I guess thats all changed
Thats why I get mad at your folks cause I dont want
You to go, no, babe I want you to stay
You can say Im trippin but Im stingy
And I cant hide it (I just wanna keep you warm)
Wanna keep you all to me, Im selfish
Why try to fight it (baby, youre the only one)
Youre the only one (yeah) with the only love
Thats strong enough to claim me (come on)
So please forgive me (please), Im just stingy (mmm, hmm)
But how can you blame me (listen)
Baby, tell em how you do it cause you got me so into it
Im gone, but I dont understand
So amazin, captivatin, elevatin, any way you try to put it
I wanna be your man
So if you want me to be yours
I dont, its alright, Im for it, I would so adore it
Nothin turns me on more than bein with you, baby,
Im not trippin
You can say Im trippin (no, I aint) but Im stingy
And I cant hide it (mmm,no, I just wanna keep you)
Wanna keep you all to me (oh, yes, I do), Im selfish
Why try to fight it (baby, youre the only one)
Youre the only one with the only love
Thats strong enough to claim me (oh, yes, you are)
So please forgive me (hey...), Im just stingy
But how can you blame me
Do what you want
Anything, anything (oh, anything, Im all yours), ill
Go along (yes, I am)
cause can do no wrong (can do no wrong)
Everything, everything, I do it cause Im so wide
Open
No jokin, you got me right where you want me to be
I just hope you feel the same cause I dont want
Nothin to change
This is where I wanna be
So if you wanna put me on, I dont mind, its alright
Im for it, I would so adore it
Nothin turns me on better than bein with you, baby,

[...] Read more

song performed by Ginuwine
Added by Lucian Velea
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Twin State

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[...] Read more

poem by Caasder Fronds
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Drop The Mask

(tim tickner, christopher ward, diana ross)
Look in the mirror, who do you see
Where is the man that you used to be
When you turn off the world and turn down the lights
Do you ever wonder who you are tonight
I knew you then, I love you now
You can call me up when it gets you down
Behind the shades theres someone real
Behind your eyes I wonder how you feel
This is me talking to you
Theres just one thing Im asking you to do
You gotta drop the mask, be yourself
Drop the mask
Trust someone else
No one knows what youre going through
Whatever it is, Ill be there for you
If you drop the mask, be yourself
Drop the mask
Trust someone else
I was there when it all began
I still remember the boy within the man
I understand what it means to run and hide
Theres so much that were holding onto deep down inside
This is me talking to you
The only thing that I want you to do
You gotta drop the mask, be yourself
Drop the mask
Trust someone else
No one knows what youre going through
Whatever it is, Ill be there for you
When you drop the mask, be yourself
Drop the mask
Trust someone else
Drop the mask
Drop the mask
Let down your guard, open your heart
Unlose your chains, dont be afraid
Drop the mask
Be yourself
Be yourself
Trust someone else
You gotta drop the mask
Let down your guard, oh you gotta drop the mask
Trust someone else
You gotta drop the mask

song performed by Diana Ross
Added by Lucian Velea
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He's Back

You're with your baby
And you're parked alone
On a summer night
You're deep in love
But you're deeper in the woods
You think you're doin' alright
You heard a voice
Did you see that face
Or was it just a dream
It can't be real
That only happens, babe
On the movie screen
If you see him comin'
Get away if you can
He's a dangerous man
Throws a dangerous party man
He's back
The man behind the mask
And he's out of control
He's back
The man behind the mask
He crawled out of his hole
Just to rock and roll
He's going out tonight
Going to make his rounds to get his fill
Standing staight and tall
He's a ton of fun
And he's dressed to kill
You know you read he was gone
It surely is him
But he's back on the prowl
Again and again and again
Don't you know
He's back
The man behind the mask
And he's out of control
He's back
The man behind the mask
He crawled out of his hole
Just to rock and roll
You know you read he was gone
It surely is him
But he's back on the prowl
Again and again and again
He's back
The man behind the mask
And he's out of control
He's back
The man behind the mask
He crawled out of his hole

[...] Read more

song performed by Alice Cooper
Added by Lucian Velea
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Saltbush Bill's Gamecock

'Twas Saltbush Bill, with his travelling sheep, was making his way to town;
He crossed them over the Hard Times Run, and he came to the Take 'Em Down;
He counted through at the boundary gate, and camped at the drafting yard:
For Stingy Smith, of the Hard Times Run, had hunted him rather hard.
He bore no malice to Stingy Smith -- 'twas simply the hand of Fate
That caused his waggon to swerve aside and shatter old Stingy's gate;
And being only the hand of Fate, it follows, without a doubt,
It wasn't the fault of Saltbush Bill that Stingy's sheep got out.
So Saltbush Bill, with an easy heart, prepared for what might befall,
Commenced his stages on Take 'Em Down, the station of Roostr Hall.
'Tis strange how often the men out back will take to some curious craft,
Some ruling passion to keep their thoughts away from the overdraft:
And Rooster Hall, of the Take 'Em Down, was widely known to fame
As breeder of champion fighting cocks -- his forte was the British Game.

The passing stranger within his gates that camped with old Rooster Hall
Was forced to talk about fowls all noght, or else not talk at all.
Though droughts should come, and though sheep should die, his fowls were his sole delight;
He left his shed in the flood of work to watch two game-cocks fight.
He held in scorn the Australian Game, that long-legged child of sin;
In a desperate fight, with the steel-tipped spurs, the British Game must win!
The Australian bird was a mongrel bird, with a touch of the jungle cock;
The want of breeding must find him out, when facing the English stock;
For British breeding, and British pluck, must triumph it over all --
And that was the root of the simple creed that governed old Rooster Hall.

'Twas Saltbush Bill to the station rode ahead of his travelling sheep,
And sent a message to Rooster Hall that wakened him out of his sleep --
A crafty message that fetched him out, and hurried him as he came --
"A drover has an Australian bird to match with your British Game."
'Twas done, and done in half a trice; a five-pound note a side;
Old Rooster Hall, with his champion bird, and the drover's bird untried.

"Steel spurs, of course?" said old Rooster Hall; "you'll need 'em, without a doubt!"
"You stick the spurs on your bird!" said Bill, "but mine fights best without."
"Fights best without?" said old Rooster Hall; "he can't fight best unspurred!
You must be crazy!" But Saltbush Bill said, "Wait till you see my bird!"
So Rooster Hall to his fowl-yard went, and quickly back he came,
Bearing a clipt and a shaven cock, the pride of his English Game;
With an eye as fierce as an eaglehawk, and a crow like a trumbet call,
He strutted about on the garden walk, and cackled at Rooster Hall.
Then Rooster Hall sent off a boy with a word to his cronies two,
McCrae (the boss of the Black Police) and Father Donahoo.

Full many a cockfight old McCrae had held in his empty Court,
With Father D. as the picker-up -- a regular all-round Sport!
They got the message of Rooster Hall, and down to his run they came,
Prepared to scoff at the drover's bird, and to bet on the English Game;

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Masks

Different masks some people wear

Pretending to be true.

They really don't care

If you are sad or blue.

They put on a mask of Friend

And try to let you down.

They are amazingly sad when you are up

And feel so happy when you are down.

Some people wear the mask of Kindness

Which is the most horrible one.

They just kill you without any gun.

They tell you kind words

To relax your vigilance

Looking only for their own conveniance.

And after all they run away

Leaving you alone on a crossway.

There is a mask of Faithfulness

Which sells you as a good

And you live in ignorance like in a dark wood.

There is a mask of Love

That breaks your heart in pieces,

It talks about love without any ceases,

And sounds like a dramatic art

Without any feelings

It waits for your kneelings.

[...] Read more

poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Wearing It Now

People are around
I know I’ll be alright
The mask doesn’t hurt
No tears
Come from the mask
I put my own on
Thinking that’s the only way it should be
Becoming someone not even I can recognize
In the puddle on the ground
Stomping in it knowing this is not me
Then when the people go away
So does mask
This is the scene in the play I don’t know my lines
For I get scared and choke every time
Mine my mask just changes from
White-ish pink to a dark red
Where the mask simply goes from
Oh look at me I don’t do any thing wrong
To black showing it’s true colors
Whoever said black was all the rainbow mixed together
Is wring in this case
There is no other feeling other then black
Like truck tiers black
No sadness no joy just anger and hatred
The mask gets switched around from him to her
All the time I never know who is wearing it or
If the both of them are sharing it at the same time
So walking through that broken old door
That squeaks and carries on when you open it
You never know if this time
Will be the one time that will kill you
Or break your back
But you hope like heck you make it through
‘Cause if you don’t then you know your not
The only one the mask subjects
And the others will not survive without you

poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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The Young Friar

When leaves broke out on the wild briar,
And bells for matins rung,
Sorrow came to the old friar
– Hundreds of years ago it was! –
And May came to the young.

The old was ripening for the sky,
The young was twenty-four.
The Franklin's daughter passed him by,
Reading a painted missal-book,
Beside the chapel door.

With brown cassock and sandalled feet,
And red Spring wine for blood;
The very next noon he chanced to meet
The Franklin's daughter, in a green May twilight,
Walking through the wood.

Pax vobiscum – to a maid
The crosiered ferns among!
But hers was only the Saxon,
And his the Norman tongue;
And the Latin taught by the old friar
Made music for the young.

And never a better deed was done
By Mother Church below
Than when she made old England one,
– Hundreds of years ago it was! –
Hundreds of years ago.

Rich was the painted page they read
Before that sunset died;
Nut-brown hood by golden head,
Murmuring Rosa Mystica,
While nesting thrushes cried.

A Saxon maid with flaxen hair,
And eyes of Sussex grey;
A young monk out of Normandy: –
'May is our Lady's month,' he said,
'And O, my love, my May!'

Then over the fallen missal-book
The missel-thrushes sung
Till – Domus Aurea – rose the moon
And bells for vespers rung.
It was gold and blue for the old friar,
But hawthorn for the young.

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Noyes
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Disguises

I used to know everything about you
But today when I tried to point you out to one of my friends
I picked the wrong girl again
Dont see you in the crowd anymore
I think its you but I cant be sure
Youre wearing disguises
Occasionally a girl surprises me
When she turns out to be you
Wearing disguises
I dont think you want me to see you ever again
And today I saw you dressed as a flower bed
Last week you had a wig on your head
Directing traffic in the street
And your shoes were too big for your feet
You were wearing disguises
Occasionally a girl surprises me
When she turns out to be you
Wearing disguises
[repeat first verse]
Wearing disguises
Wearing disguises
Wearing disguises
Wearing disguises

song performed by Who
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Do You Think It's Alright / Fiddle About

(Pete Townshend)
I used to know everything about you
But today when I tried to point you out to one of my friends
I picked the wrong girl again
Don't see you in the crowd anymore
I think it's you but I can't be sure
You're wearing disguises
Occasionally a girl surprises me
When she turns out to be you
Wearing disguises
I don't think you want me to see you ever again
And today I saw you dressed as a flower bed
Last week you had a wig on your head
Directing traffic in the street
And your shoes were too big for your feet
You were wearing disguises
Occasionally a girl surprises me
When she turns out to be you
Wearing disguises
[repeat first verse]
Wearing disguises
Wearing disguises
Wearing disguises
Wearing disguises

song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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Only One Mother

Hundreds of stars in the pretty sky,
But only one mother to dry your eyes,
Hundreds of shells on the shore together,
But only one mother to have forever
Hundreds of birds that go singing by,
But only one mother to help you try
Hundreds of lambs in the sunny weather.
But only one mother to treat us like treasure
Hundreds of dewdrops to greet the dawn,
But only one mother to help us move on
Hundreds of bees in the purple clover,
But only one mother the world wide over
Hundreds of people to tell apart
But only one mother to give us her heart

poem by Kaitlin Skelding
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I hail thee! Woman

Player one, two, three
I hail thee! Woman

Each day it is an awesome task
To cover her face with a mask

A different one she wears each day
A mask of beauty beneath a mask of love
A mask of pain embroided by sorrow
Lifes of loved ones lost
She would gladly like to re-borrow

She is the perfect player
She is the perfect mother
She is the perfect daughter
She is the perfect lover

Player one, two, three
I hail thee! Woman

There she wears her mask again
A mask of conniving sharpness and evil
And a parting deal with the devil
A mask of infinite ideas
And one of fictional loving care

Player one, two, three
I hail thee! Woman

Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Mask That Covers My Pain

I wear a mask,
A mask that covers my pain,
I wear a smile,
A smile to cover my frown,

Secretly I am sad,
No ones here to hold me,
No ones here to love me,
I have no one,

My mask covers the pain in my eyes,
My mask covers the pain in my face,
My mask covers the pain in my heart,
My mask covers the pain in me,

I am but alone,
I am but in pain,
I am the only one,
I put a mask on,
To cover my pain,

poem by Samantha Guinen
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Beneath The Mask

Beneath the mask her wander lies
projecting an image for lovers eyes.
Such endless beauty my eyes behold,
under the mask she wears so bold

She hides behind her vain-full pride,
The twist and turn of storms inside.
She sits so still, so calm a girl
And guards with faith her hidden pearl.

Behold the mask covers her face
For between its cracks lies hidden grace
And beneath that mystic mask of wood
Lies secrets of a love so good

She needs to see through sudden glee
She needs not wear the mask for me.
In her glory I need to bask
For I love the girl who wear the mask.

Beneath the mask
There is a love and compassion
Inhibition and insecurities,
But there is also the girl I love

poem by C.F Francis
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Le Masque (The Mask)

Statue allégorique dans le goût de la Renaissance

Contemplons ce trésor de grâces florentines;
Dans l'ondulation de ce corps musculeux
L'Elégance et la Force abondent, soeurs divines.
Cette femme, morceau vraiment miraculeux,
Divinement robuste, adorablement mince,
Est faite pour trôner sur des lits somptueux
Et charmer les loisirs d'un pontife ou d'un prince.

— Aussi, vois ce souris fin et voluptueux
Où la Fatuité promène son extase;
Ce long regard sournois, langoureux et moqueur;
Ce visage mignard, tout encadré de gaze,
Dont chaque trait nous dit avec un air vainqueur:
«La Volupté m'appelle et l'Amour me couronne!»
À cet être doué de tant de majesté
Vois quel charme excitant la gentillesse donne!
Approchons, et tournons autour de sa beauté.

Ô blasphème de l'art! ô surprise fatale!
La femme au corps divin, promettant le bonheur,Par le haut se termine en monstre bicéphale!

— Mais non! ce n'est qu'un masque, un décor suborneur,
Ce visage éclairé d'une exquise grimace,
Et, regarde, voici, crispée atrocement,
La véritable tête, et la sincère face
Renversée à l'abri de la face qui ment
Pauvre grande beauté! le magnifique fleuve
De tes pleurs aboutit dans mon coeur soucieux
Ton mensonge m'enivre, et mon âme s'abreuve
Aux flots que la Douleur fait jaillir de tes yeux!

— Mais pourquoi pleure-t-elle? Elle, beauté parfaite,
Qui mettrait à ses pieds le genre humain vaincu,
Quel mal mystérieux ronge son flanc d'athlète?

— Elle pleure insensé, parce qu'elle a vécu!
Et parce qu'elle vit! Mais ce qu'elle déplore
Surtout, ce qui la fait frémir jusqu'aux genoux,
C'est que demain, hélas! il faudra vivre encore!
Demain, après-demain et toujours! — comme nous!

The Mask

Allegorical Statue in the Style of the Renaissance

Let us gaze at this gem of Florentine beauty;

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poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Sunday at Hampstead

I

(AN VERY IDLE IDYLL BY A VERY HUMBLE MEMBER OF THE GREAT AND NOBLE LONDON MOB.)

This is the Heath of Hampstead,
This is the Dome of Saint Paul’s;
Beneath, on the serried house-tops,
A chequered luster falls:

And the might city of London,
Under the clouds and the light,
Seems a low, wet beach, half shingle,
With a few sharp rocks upright.

Here we sit, my darling,
And dream an hour away:
The donkeys are hurried and worried,
But we are not donkeys to-day:

Through all the weary week, dear,
We toil in the murk down there,
Tied to a desk and a counter,
A patient, stupid pair!

But on Sunday we slip our thether,
And away from the smoke and the smirch;
Too grateful to God for His Sabbath
To shut its hours in a church.

Away to the green, green country,
Under the open sky;
Where the earth’s sweet breath is incense
And the lark sings psalms on high.

On Sunday we’re Lord and Lady,
With ten times the love and glee
Of those pale, languid rich ones
Who are always and never free.

The drawl and stare and simper,
So fine and cold and staid,
Like exquisite waxwork figures
That must be kept in the shade.

We can laugh out loud when merry,
We can romp at kiss-in-the-ring,
We can take our beer at a public,
We can loll on the grass and sing.

Would you grieve very much, my darling,

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poem by James Thomson
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