Alabama Rain
Lazy days in mid-July
Country Sunday mornin's
Dusty haze on summer highways
Sweet magnolia callin'
Chorus:
But now and then I find myself
Thinkin' of the days
That (when) we were walking in
The Alabama rain
Drive-in movies, Friday nights
Drinkin' beer and laughin'
Somehow things were always right
I just don't know what happened
Chorus
We were only kids
But then I've never heard it said
That kids can't fall in love
And feel the same
I can still remember the first time
I told you "I love you"
On a dusty mid-July
Country summer's evenin's
Weepin' willows sang its lullaby
And shared our secret
Chorus
Walking in the Alabama rain
song performed by Jim Croce
Added by Lucian Velea
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poem by Caasder Fronds
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Who Were You Thinkin bout?
Who were you thinkin bout
Who were you thinkin about
Who were you thinkin bout
Were you thinkin bout me, baby
The first time she touched you hand ?
Were you thinkin bout me, baby
Did you forget you were my man
Were you thinking of me when you removed your ring ?
Or did you just think I would not think anything ?
Who were you thinkin about? who were you thinkin about?
Who were you thinkin bout? who were you thinkin about?
Who were you thinkin bout? who were you thinkin about?
Were you thinkin bout me, baby ?
Each time you kissed her lips ?
Were you thinkin bout me, baby ?
When your hands were on her hips?
Were you thinkin bout me did she do it like I do ?
Did you ever think of anyone but you now ?
Who were you thinkin bout? who were you thinkin about?
Who were you thinkin bout? who were you thinkin about?
Who were you thinkin bout? who were you thinkin about?
Were you thinking I would understand ?
And that I was a fool, and that I would never suspect
You were doing wrong ?
And tell me did you feel bad ? did it feel good ?
Did it feel like you thought it would ?
And I would never know ?
What you were thinking ?
Sure werent thinkin bout me
You were thinkin bout her, baby
You were thinkin bout you, baby
You werent thinkin bout me
Who were you thinkin bout? who were you thinkin about?
Who were you thinkin bout? who were you thinkin about?
Who were you thinkin bout? who were you thinkin about?
Sure werent thinkin bout me
Sure werent thinkin bout me
Who were you thinkin bout?
Sure werent thinkin bout me
Yeah, sure werent thinkin bout me
Im sure not thinkin bout you
song performed by Vanessa Williams
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-57
Campbell's Magnolia(Magnolia campbelli)
Dwarf Magnolia(Cempaka Telur, Magnolia coco)
Temple Magnolia(Magnolia doltsopa)
Banana Shrub(Magnolia figo)
Magnolia(Southern magnolia, Magnolia grandiflora)
Egg Magnolia(Magnolia liliifera)
Lily Magnolia(Magnolia lilliflora)
Saucer Magnolia(Magnolia x soulangiana)
Disparity is not His intention
For creation all beauty adorned
Painting different here and there
Passion for His colourful creation
So is Magnolia big and florescent
Champak white and yellow hale here
Cream and pink there purplish pale
Leaves large elliptic, oblong, obovate
Born are big in blossoms dignified
For His praises glorious colourful
Born are dwarf fragrant strong high
For His praises vast wide in demand
So not atall disparity His intention
Even Temple Magnolia can ascertain
On par all Himalayan with the southern
Magnolias pretty beauty for His creation
poem by Indira Renganathan
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The House Of Dust: Complete
I.
The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.
And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.
'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.
We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .
Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.
Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.
Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.
II.
[...] Read more
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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1 In The Morning
[LL Cool J]
It's one in the mornin - you know what time it is!
It's one in the mornin
It's one in the mornin - you gonna have come out your clothes on this one
It's one in the mornin
Yeah I'm still at it, the microphone addict
You get your dome splattered, cause homey will not have it
Your ashes get scattered across the Atlantic
For actin like you a teenage chick with her bra padded
You might laugh at it, but if you do the knowledge
It's really a tad tragic how they runnin through they cabbage
You know my track record, L battle like a savage
I think and grow rich, that gives me the advantage
Uncle LL, I got product for sale
So I can bail Al Sharpton out of jail
Somebody gotta do it, somebody in the black community
gotta get this money while y'all march for unity
So march on, I'ma get my Bentley park on
Then get my dogs a platform to bark on
The realest brother, you Nicole Kidman, one of 'The Others'
Children shiverin under the covers
The man in black, the tilted Fedora hat
I'm bringin it raw, you never want your money back
I'm focused baby, livin like a quarterback
Playin in the wishbone, L keep options black
Systematically, burn you like calories
Watch your mouth, go earn your lil' salary
I'm a classic like Nike Airs and Wallabees
You could catch it like the flu, homey follow me
[Chorus]
It's one in the mornin - flash the dough
It's one in the mornin - crack the Mo'
It's one in the mornin - get on the flo'
It's one in the mornin - who wanna go?
[LL Cool J]
That's right Sleeping Beauty, wake up see the light
That Tylenol PM got you caught for your BM
Everybody can see I'm the king of rippin coliseums
C'mon, youse a male groupie beggin for per diem
A fruitcake laid out in the masoleum
I'm the richest man in Babylon, nobody could see him
Money's my slave, it do what I say
It cry for me, like Denzel in "Glory"
But I broke the cycle, no more poverty
I wonder if you hatin on the low - probably!
But cats know I'm real, I keep 'em on they heels
Damn! Look at my body, coulda been a Navy Seal
But you lack the discipline to do what I do
Reinvention, I'm in the 11th dimension
I'm a value stock pop, get it while it's hot
[...] Read more
song performed by LL Cool J
Added by Lucian Velea
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Early Morning
Early morning
Great
I was a little late last night
got a little messy
I can't be like that anymore (early morning)
uh - no
CHORUS
I was shakin my ass in the street til mornin
Just walked in an it's early mornin - uh!
Bump bump to the break of dawn
And it don't stop til the early mornin
Passed out on the couch I'm yawnin
Just walked in an it's early mornin - let's start again
Bump bump to the break of dawn
And it don't stop til the early mornin
Met a dark dude, kinda dark hair
When he walked up
Tony grabbed him
But I liked him
I told him "come here
Kinda cool
Baby, we can make plans
Where you live?
Do ya mamma live there?
We can hook up at the hotel"
He was down so I told him "let's go"
what happened - guess what, you don't wanna know
CHORUS
I was shakin my ass in the street til mornin
Just walked in n it's early mornin
Bump bump to the break of dawn
And it don't stop til the early mornin
Passed out on the couch i'm yawnin
Just walked in n it's early mornin - let's start again
Bump bump to the break of dawn
And it don't stop til the early mornin
I went out with girl Jen
And we called up gabe and his friends
He was talkin bout hittin up Show
So I said "what the hell? - let's go!"
Got up n got on the dance floor
Hooked up with a guy named Joe
When the music was fast danced slow
what happened next -guess what? you don't wanna know
CHORUS
I was shakin my ass in the street til mornin
Just walked in n it's early mornin
bump bump to the break of dawn
And it don't stop til the early mornin
Passed out on the couch i'm yawnin
[...] Read more
song performed by Britney Spears
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Morning Song
The thrush is in the wattle tree, an', 'O, you pretty dear!'
He's callin' to his little wife for all the bush to hear.
He's wantin' all the bush to know about his charmin' hen;
He sings it over fifty times, an' then begins again.
For it's Mornin'! Mornin'! The world is wet with dew,
With tiny drops a-twinkle where the sun comes shinin' thro'.
The thrush is in the wattle tree, red robin's underneath,
The little blue-cap's dodgin' in an' out amongst the heath;
An' they're singin', boy, they're singin' like they'd bust 'emselves to bits;
While, up above, old Laughin' Jack is having forty fits.
For it's Mornin'! Mornin'! The leaves are all ashine:
There's treasure all about the place; an' all of it is mine.
Oh, it's good to be a wealthy man, it's grand to be a king
With mornin' on the forest-land an' joy in everything.
It's fine to be a healthy man with healthy work to do
In the singin' land, the clean land, washed again with dew.
When sunlight slants across the trees, an' birds begin to sing,
Then kings may snore in palaces, but I'm awake - and king.
But the king must cook his breakfast, an' the king must sweep the floor;
Then out with axe on shoulder to his kingdom at the door,
His old dog sportin' on ahead, his troubles all behind,
An' joy mixed in the blood of him because the world is kind.
For it's Mornin'! Mornin'! Time to out an' strive!
Oh, there's not a thing I'm askin' else but just to be alive!
It's cranky moods a man will get an' funny ways of mind;
For I've a memory of one whose thoughts were all unkind:
Who sat an' brooded thro' the night beside the blazin' log,
His home a mirthless, silent house, his only pal a dog.
But it's Mornin'! Mornin'! I nurse no thought but praise,
I've more good friends than I could count, tho' I should count for days.
My friends are in the underbrush, my friends are in the trees,
An' merrily they welcome me with mornin' melodies.
Above, below, from bush an' bough each calls his tuneful part;
An' best of all, one trusty friend is callin' in my heart.
For it's Mornin'! Mornin'! When night's black troubles end.
An' never man was friendless yet who stayed his own good friend.
Ben Murray, he's no friend of mine, an' well I know the same;
But why should I be thinkin' hate, an' nursin' thoughts of blame?
[...] Read more
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Added by Poetry Lover
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All I'm Thinkin' About
One, two, three, four
Blind man wavin' by the side of the road
In a flatbed Ford carryin' a heavy load
Sweet thing sipping on a blueberry wine
On a flat black highway down in Carolina
Black bird slipping in a sky of blue
All I'm thinkin' about is you, baby
All I'm thinkin' about is you, honey
All I'm thinkin' about is you, baby
All I'm thinkin' about is you
There ain't nothing in this world I can do about it
All I'm thinkin' about is you
Little boy carryin' a fishing pole
Little girl pickin' huckleberries from off of the vine
Brown bag filled with a little green toad
We hook him through the the lip and throw him off with a line
A sweet pair of legs got me feelin' so blue
And all I'm thinkin' about is you, baby
All I'm thinkin' about is you
All I'm thinkin' about is you, baby
All I'm thinkin' about is you
There ain't nothing in this world I can do about it
All I'm thinkin' about is you
Black car shiny on a Sunday morn'
Mama go to church now
Mama go to church now
Friday night and Daddy's shirt is torn
Daddy's going downtown
Daddy's going downtown
Ain't no one understand the sweet thing you do
All I'm thinkin' about is you, baby
All I'm thinkin' about is you
All I'm thinkin' about is you, baby
All I'm thinkin' about is you
Ain't nothing in this world I can do about it
All I'm thinkin' about is you
Whoaaa
Field turned up, the seed is sowed
Rain comin' in from over across the road
Big black curtain comin' across the field
Blind will see and lame will be healed
Brown-eyed girl, turn my back on you
Now it's lonely
All I'm thinkin' about is you, baby
And all I'm thinkin' about is you
And all I'm thinkin' about is you, baby
All I'm thinkin' about is you
There ain't nothing in this world take away these blues
All I'm thinkin' about is you
All I'm thinkin' about is you, baby
[...] Read more
song performed by Bruce Springsteen
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sunday Morning
Sunday morning silence, curtain stay closed late
No one thinks of kitchens mornings in a filthy state
Dishes cups and beer stains, ashtrays on the floor
Sunday morning papers are left outside the front door
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
(sunday, bloody sunday rest)
Glass of fizzy water helps to start the day
Sit and listen to sunday silence, problems fade away
Sunday cars and drivers break the morning air
Uncollected milk outside reveals theres no one there
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
Bathrobes hang in waiting, windows steaming up
Somewhere in the sink downstairs lies an unwashed cup
Tea and toast for breakfast clear away the plates
Wash-up prepare for cooking sunday lunch awaits
Sunday lunch awaits
Sunday lunch awaits
song performed by Madness
Added by Lucian Velea
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Thinkin Bout My Baby
I was walkin, down the street
I was lookin to someone who was standing there
And didnt seem to really care
I was lookin out the window
I was hopin, that the sun would show
Didnt know, didnt know
I was
Thinkin bout him, thinkin about my baby
Thinkin bout him, thinkin about my baby
Thinkin bout him, thinkin about my baby, yeah...
I was searchin, for a summer day
I was hopin, for someone to say
Would you come out?
Instead I stood and I pout
I was wanting, just another chance
To make you, feel my fine romance
Didnt know, want to go
I was
Thinkin bout him, thinkin about my baby
Thinkin bout him, thinkin about my baby
Thinkin bout him, thinkin about my baby,
Thinkin bout him, thinkin about my baby, yeah...
Want my baby, lookin for him high and the love, yeah
Want my baby, hes the only way to fly I know, yeah
I was searchin for another day
I was hopin, just to see your smilin face, your smilin face
I was
Thinkin bout him, thinkin about my baby
Thinkin bout him, thinkin about my baby
Thinkin bout him, thinkin about my baby
Thinkin bout him, thinkin about my baby, yeah, yeah...
Thinkin bout my baby, thinkin about my baby
Thinkin bout my baby, thinkin about my baby...
song performed by Donna Summer
Added by Lucian Velea
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February Rain
To be the mud, the bog, the mire;
To soak the bones in February –
Eons from the autumn shower–
Even from a summer berry!
Sparrows chirp a desperate call,
Darting questions at the cows –
Oblivious to the dousing squall, they
Churn the sludge with pastern ploughs.
The crying air was lost in rhythm:
Drums incessant in the drops;
Not a chance for rainbow prism –
Even if the hammering stops!
Metallic chills entrap machines –
Tractors hushed within the shed.
Inside the house, a full cuisine
To bless with mead – and little said!
But out across the tiring field,
A sodden fox is hunting down
His prey of sorts – but nil of yield;
Perhaps he’ll starve; perhaps he’ll drown.
Still the clouds are hammering,
Hammering home their dreary aim –
A chatterbox in constant yammering,
Drenching all to make a claim.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
[...] Read more
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Added by Poetry Lover
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Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Well, it was sunday, bloody sunday when the shot the people there.
The cries of thirteen martyrs filled the free derry air.
Is there anyone amongst you dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding when they nailed the coffin lids!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, you claim to be majority, well, you know that its a lie.
Youre really a minority on this sweet emerald isle.
When stormont bans our marches, theyve got a lot to learn,
Internment is no answer, its those mothers turn to burn.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey! yeah!
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
All you anglo pigs and scotties sent to colonise the north,
You wave your bloody union jacks and you know what its worth.
How dare you hold to ransom a people proud and free?
Keep ireland to the irish, put the english back to sea!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey, hey, hey!
Alright!
Ooh -
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, its always bloody sunday in the concentration camps.
Keep falls road free forever from the bloody british hands.
Repatriate to britain all of you who call it home,
Leave ireland to the irish not for london or for rome.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday.
song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Well, it was sunday, bloody sunday when the shot the people there.
The cries of thirteen martyrs filled the free derry air.
Is there anyone amongst you dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding when they nailed the coffin lids!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, you claim to be majority, well, you know that its a lie.
Youre really a minority on this sweet emerald isle.
When stormont bans our marches, theyve got a lot to learn,
Internment is no answer, its those mothers turn to burn.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey! yeah!
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
All you anglo pigs and scotties sent to colonise the north,
You wave your bloody union jacks and you know what its worth.
How dare you hold to ransom a people proud and free?
Keep ireland to the irish, put the english back to sea!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey, hey, hey!
Alright!
Ooh -
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, its always bloody sunday in the concentration camps.
Keep falls road free forever from the bloody british hands.
Repatriate to britain all of you who call it home,
Leave ireland to the irish not for london or for rome.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday.
song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Cyclops
SILENUS:
O Bacchus, what a world of toil, both now
And ere these limbs were overworn with age,
Have I endured for thee! First, when thou fled’st
The mountain-nymphs who nursed thee, driven afar
By the strange madness Juno sent upon thee;
Then in the battle of the Sons of Earth,
When I stood foot by foot close to thy side,
No unpropitious fellow-combatant,
And, driving through his shield my winged spear,
Slew vast Enceladus. Consider now,
Is it a dream of which I speak to thee?
By Jove it is not, for you have the trophies!
And now I suffer more than all before.
For when I heard that Juno had devised
A tedious voyage for you, I put to sea
With all my children quaint in search of you,
And I myself stood on the beaked prow
And fixed the naked mast; and all my boys
Leaning upon their oars, with splash and strain
Made white with foam the green and purple sea,--
And so we sought you, king. We were sailing
Near Malea, when an eastern wind arose,
And drove us to this waste Aetnean rock;
The one-eyed children of the Ocean God,
The man-destroying Cyclopses, inhabit,
On this wild shore, their solitary caves,
And one of these, named Polypheme. has caught us
To be his slaves; and so, for all delight
Of Bacchic sports, sweet dance and melody,
We keep this lawless giant’s wandering flocks.
My sons indeed on far declivities,
Young things themselves, tend on the youngling sheep,
But I remain to fill the water-casks,
Or sweeping the hard floor, or ministering
Some impious and abominable meal
To the fell Cyclops. I am wearied of it!
And now I must scrape up the littered floor
With this great iron rake, so to receive
My absent master and his evening sheep
In a cave neat and clean. Even now I see
My children tending the flocks hitherward.
Ha! what is this? are your Sicinnian measures
Even now the same, as when with dance and song
You brought young Bacchus to Althaea’s halls?
CHORUS OF SATYRS:
STROPHE:
Where has he of race divine
[...] Read more
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Added by Poetry Lover
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Drinkin'
she told me
that I was lame
with her middle finger in my face
wont waste her time with such a loser
so now I wallow in regret
wanna do something right but I haven't yet
why do my endeavors end up in failure
I think I'll go out drinkin'
drinkin' all night long
cuz if I go out drinkin'
then I can stop thinkin'
bout how the world done me wrong
I guess I shouldn't feel so bad
ain't got much reason to feel so sad
'cept that I'm poor untalented and ugly
I know its like they always say
good times and bad will come our way
but theres only one thing that'll make this easier
I think I'll go out drinkin'
drinkin' all night long
cuz if I go out drinkin'
then I can stop thinkin'
bout how the world done me wrong
so wrong
I sing this song and nobody sings along
I've got a friend
he's in my hand
he understands
he said to me everything wont be so bad!
I think I'll go out drinkin'
drinkin' all night long
cuz if I go out drinkin'
then I can stop thinkin'
bout how the world done me wrong
I think I'll go out drinkin' (think I'll go out drinkin')
drinkin' all night long (drinkin' all night long)
cuz if I go out drinkin'
then I can stop thinkin'
about how the worlds done me
how the worlds done me wrong (so wrong)
song performed by Reel Big Fish
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Dream
'TWAS summer eve; the changeful beams still play'd
On the fir-bark and through the beechen shade;
Still with soft crimson glow'd each floating cloud;
Still the stream glitter'd where the willow bow'd;
Still the pale moon sate silent and alone,
Nor yet the stars had rallied round her throne;
Those diamond courtiers, who, while yet the West
Wears the red shield above his dying breast,
Dare not assume the loss they all desire,
Nor pay their homage to the fainter fire,
But wait in trembling till the Sun's fair light
Fading, shall leave them free to welcome Night!
So when some Chief, whose name through realms afar
Was still the watchword of succesful war,
Met by the fatal hour which waits for all,
Is, on the field he rallied, forced to fall,
The conquerors pause to watch his parting breath,
Awed by the terrors of that mighty death;
Nor dare the meed of victory to claim,
Nor lift the standard to a meaner name,
Till every spark of soul hath ebb'd away,
And leaves what was a hero, common clay.
Oh! Twilight! Spirit that dost render birth
To dim enchantments; melting Heaven with Earth,
Leaving on craggy hills and rumning streams
A softness like the atmosphere of dreams;
Thy hour to all is welcome! Faint and sweet
Thy light falls round the peasant's homeward feet,
Who, slow returning from his task of toil,
Sees the low sunset gild the cultured soil,
And, tho' such radliance round him brightly glows,
Marks the small spark his cottage window throws.
Still as his heart forestals his weary pace,
Fondly he dreams of each familiar face,
Recalls the treasures of his narrow life,
His rosy children, and his sunburnt wife,
To whom his coming is the chief event
Of simple days in cheerful labour spent.
The rich man's chariot hath gone whirling past,
And those poor cottagers have only cast
One careless glance on all that show of pride,
Then to their tasks turn'd quietly aside;
But him they wait for, him they welcome home,
Fond sentinels look forth to see him come;
The fagot sent for when the fire grew dim,
The frugal meal prepared, are all for him;
For him the watching of that sturdy boy,
[...] Read more
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
Added by Poetry Lover
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