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Letter To The Penthouse Forum

Dear penthouse,
I never did believe anything I ever read in your magazine until just the other night.
When something happen to me that was so strange that I felt compelled to share it with your readers.
Im a student at state-u.
Maybe Im getting ahead of myself. it was one year ago tonight that my room mate stupendous dork and I were sittin around the dorm poppin a few frostys and burning some rope, and boning up for the speech therapy midterm exam the next day, by reading back issues of your magazine out loud to each other.
I looked at stu and he looked at me and we both knew neither of us was going to get a real good grade on that exam anyway. we hopped out of the dorm and went across the street to herbies tumble inn.
Right across from the dorm there, we came through the swinging doors and I couldnt believe my eyes, there they were, sitting at the bar, these two luscious babes, and they were siamese twins
I looked at stu and he looked at me and we looked at them and they looked at us and then one of the twins said wont you join us? and I just laughed and we went and sat down at the bar.
Turns out, one if the ladies was a speech therapy major and her sister said she had some rope in her purse there, and a big light bulb went off in my head and I said what the heck, why dont we all go back to the dorm?
Came out of the swingin doors at herbies and couldnt get across the street.
There was these 30 bikers with jackets that said harley aristocrats on the back. there was an aerobic dance class and there was the commanding officer of the campus rotc pushing a nautilus machine right down the double yellow line. I said what the heck, why dont we all go back to the dorm?
The last thing I remember is one of the twins screaming, hey general put your big heat seeking missile in my love silo!
I got my degree in spite of failing speech therapy that quarter. last night for the first time in a year, my room mate stupendous dork went back to herbies to toast our commencement. came thru the swingin doors and there they were at the bar, the same two siamese twins and I said oh no and I went and sat down a table.
The twins came over to the table and the one that was a speech therapy major looked my right in the eye and said: excuse me you probably dont remember us.
Name and address withheld by request.

song performed by John Prine
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Social Netowrking Of Robots

end of world war
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end of ww-ii
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end of wrold war 2
end of ww11

[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Scotts A Dork

Well like pizza but she doesnt eat the crust
I love her and she loves everyone
She said she likes my band but I dont even like my band
I love her and she loves everyone
I saw her kiss him last night
Im sick now, Im sick now
(but its just a little cold)
Scotts a dork
Scotts a dork
When I say I give up it just means Im going to try again
She loves me and I love everyone
I was kissin her but she was wishin it was him
She loves me and I love everyone
They told her about you and me
Shes mad now (but shell get over it)
Scotts a dork
Scotts a dork
Dork dork dork dork dork dork dork dork dork [repeat 3x]
Youd think that after all this time
Shed change but, she didnt
Scotts a dork
Scotts a dork
Scotts a dork
Scotts a dork
Nows shes walking out the door
I dont need her anymore
I love her

song performed by Reel Big Fish
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Strange Things Happen

She believes in god
And karma too
Paranormal powers
You know some people do
Got scorpio risin
Uh huh
Tell you whats in your stars
She was down in rio
Turn the heads of state
Got em into makin
This planet a better place
On copacabana
Uh huh
Oh yeah she radiate better go meditate
Everytime I touch my baby
Strange things happen
Strange things happen
Everytime I touch my baby
Strange things happen to me
Strange things happen
Oh ohhh ohhhh
Oh oh strange things happen
Everytime I touch my baby
Strange things happen to me
Met a pshycic reader
With a crystal ball
Had a vision
Said we could have it all
I caught her gazin
Uh huh
At our destiny cosmically
Everytime I touch my baby
Strange things happen
Oh ohhh ohhhh
Oh oh strange things happen
Everytime I touch my baby
Strange things happen to me
Strange things happen
Oh ohhh ohhhh
Oh oh strange things happen
Everytime I touch my baby
Strange things happen to me
Strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange
Strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange
Strange strange strange
Strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange
Strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange
Strange strange strange
Strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange strange
Strange strange strange strange strange

song performed by Beach Boys
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Get It Poppin

[Nelly & girl vocalist]
Its 2 up in the mornin girl and the dj playin that song
Now watchu gon do
Im gon get get get it poppin
Watchu gon do
Im gon get get get it poppin
Its 2 up in the mornin girl and the dj playin that song
Now watchu gon do
Im gon get get get it poppin
Watchu gon do
Im gon get get get it poppin
[Fat Joe]
I got the unlimited american express card
Momma you can get whateva ya like
Plus i got that all black phantom tinted on four sides
Get a kiss so they cant see us inside
Momma tell me do you like it
I know you like it
Its written all ova your face dont fight it
You like it
More than I like it
So put it all ova your face dont bite it
From rags to riches club packing
Bitches hate the bag and ditch us
The hate game is vicious
and we can get it poppin the the bathroom
Dont be selfish go ahead and pass it to em
And we can all f*** that
Its like a million on my neck
Got all these -- ball
We p-- drunk on and these bitches screaming let me in
[Nelly & girl vocalist]
Its 2 up in the mornin girl and the dj playin that song
Now watchu gon do
Im gon get get get it poppin
Watchu gon do
Im gon get get get it poppin
Its 2 up in the morning now and im trying to go on witchu
Girl watchu gon do
Im gon get get get it poppin
Watchu gon do
Im gon get get get it poppin
[Fat Joe & Nelly]
Get it poppin and get droppin
Its written all ova ur face dont stop it
Just drop it
More like this hop less
Kickin the dough with the fo fo messin with joe
Now this kid gotta ass so fat
Infact I put a drink on it and came right back

[...] Read more

song performed by Fat Joe
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Tale XXI

The Learned Boy

An honest man was Farmer Jones, and true;
He did by all as all by him should do;
Grave, cautious, careful, fond of gain was he,
Yet famed for rustic hospitality:
Left with his children in a widow'd state,
The quiet man submitted to his fate;
Though prudent matrons waited for his call,
With cool forbearance he avoided all;
Though each profess'd a pure maternal joy,
By kind attention to his feeble boy;
And though a friendly Widow knew no rest,
Whilst neighbour Jones was lonely and distress'd;
Nay, though the maidens spoke in tender tone
Their hearts' concern to see him left alone,
Jones still persisted in that cheerless life,
As if 'twere sin to take a second wife.
Oh! 'tis a precious thing, when wives are dead,
To find such numbers who will serve instead;
And in whatever state a man be thrown,
'Tis that precisely they would wish their own;
Left the departed infants--then their joy
Is to sustain each lovely girl and boy:
Whatever calling his, whatever trade,
To that their chief attention has been paid;
His happy taste in all things they approve,
His friends they honour, and his food they love;
His wish for order, prudence in affairs,
An equal temper (thank their stars!), are theirs;
In fact, it seem'd to be a thing decreed,
And fix'd as fate, that marriage must succeed:
Yet some, like Jones, with stubborn hearts and

hard,
Can hear such claims and show them no regard.
Soon as our Farmer, like a general, found
By what strong foes he was encompass'd round,
Engage he dared not, and he could not fly,
But saw his hope in gentle parley lie;
With looks of kindness then, and trembling heart,
He met the foe, and art opposed to art.
Now spoke that foe insidious--gentle tones,
And gentle looks, assumed for Farmer Jones:
'Three girls,' the Widow cried, 'a lively three
To govern well--indeed it cannot be.'
'Yes,' he replied, 'it calls for pains and care:
But I must bear it.'--'Sir, you cannot bear;
Your son is weak, and asks a mother's eye:'
'That, my kind friend, a father's may supply.'

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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It's Summer and The People Choose to Feel Loose

Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Until the people say they've had quite enough.
Just keep it up and finger poppin'.
Turn the heat up and let them burn the rug.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Don't stop the beat,
When the feet cranks up the fever.

It's Summer and the people choose to feel loose.
With flavor tasted to shake loose a caboose.
And groping sweaty bodies with whomever they choose.

Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Until the people say they've had quite enough.
Just keep it up and finger poppin'.

It's Summer and the people choose to feel loose.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.

With flavor tasted to shake loose a caboose.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Don't stop the beat,
When the feet cranks up the fever.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Do not stop it when it's rockin'.

It's Summer and the people choose to feel loose.
With flavor tasted to shake loose a caboose.
And groping sweaty bodies with whomever they choose.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.

It's Summer and the people choose to feel loose.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.

It's Summer and the people choose to feel loose.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.

It's Summer and the people choose to feel loose.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.

It's Summer and the people choose to feel loose.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Do not stop it when it's rockin'.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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
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The Victories Of Love. Book II

I
From Jane To Her Mother

Thank Heaven, the burthens on the heart
Are not half known till they depart!
Although I long'd, for many a year,
To love with love that casts out fear,
My Frederick's kindness frighten'd me,
And heaven seem'd less far off than he;
And in my fancy I would trace
A lady with an angel's face,
That made devotion simply debt,
Till sick with envy and regret,
And wicked grief that God should e'er
Make women, and not make them fair.
That he might love me more because
Another in his memory was,
And that my indigence might be
To him what Baby's was to me,
The chief of charms, who could have thought?
But God's wise way is to give nought
Till we with asking it are tired;
And when, indeed, the change desired
Comes, lest we give ourselves the praise,
It comes by Providence, not Grace;
And mostly our thanks for granted pray'rs
Are groans at unexpected cares.
First Baby went to heaven, you know,
And, five weeks after, Grace went, too.
Then he became more talkative,
And, stooping to my heart, would give
Signs of his love, which pleased me more
Than all the proofs he gave before;
And, in that time of our great grief,
We talk'd religion for relief;
For, though we very seldom name
Religion, we now think the same!
Oh, what a bar is thus removed
To loving and to being loved!
For no agreement really is
In anything when none's in this.
Why, Mother, once, if Frederick press'd
His wife against his hearty breast,
The interior difference seem'd to tear
My own, until I could not bear
The trouble. 'Twas a dreadful strife,
And show'd, indeed, that faith is life.
He never felt this. If he did,
I'm sure it could not have been hid;
For wives, I need not say to you,

[...] Read more

poem by Coventry Patmore
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Therapy

Therapy therapy
Lost sight-I think I'm getting out of my range
Colors flash-now things are starting to get strange
Start it up-and you say you wanna get in on me, I need I need I need my
Therapy-now just relax we'll put your mind at ease
Therapy-but first you've got to say "pretty please"
Therapy therapy
Fire it up-put a little gas on the brain
All aboard-a ride on the newest thang
Chew chew-lookt out it's a runaway train, pure pain, no gain, insane it's
Therapy-and right before they dig into my mind
Therapy-the Dr. screams "let's got it's party time"
Therapy therapy
Left right left right-like every heartbeat needs a motion
Left right left right-like every wave needs a sea
Left right left right-like every teardrop needs a eyeball
Left right left right-you've got to name your therapy
Therapy! Therapy! Therapy!
Therapy Therapy
Snap pop-a sweet emotion just broke loose
Don't care-it ain't nothing I can use
Ha! Ha!-ain't it funny how we all abuse you choose, abuse, you lose now
Therapy-you know we want to help we really care
Therapy-but when your money's gone you're out of here!

song performed by Infectious Grooves
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Therapy (feat. Ozzy Osbourne)

Muir-Trujillo
Therapy therapy
Lost sight-I think I'm getting out of my range
Colors flash-now things are starting to get strange
Start it up-and you say you wanna get in on me, I need I need I need my
Therapy-now just relax we'll put your mind at ease
Therapy-but first you've got to say "pretty please"
Therapy therapy
Fire it up-put a little gas on the brain
All aboard-a ride on the newest thang
Chew chew-lookt out it's a runaway train, pure pain, no gain, insane it's
Therapy-and right before they dig into my mind
Therapy-the Dr. screams "let's got it's party time"
Therapy therapy
Left right left right-like every heartbeat needs a motion
Left right left right-like every wave needs a sea
Left right left right-like every teardrop needs a eyeball
Left right left right-you've got to name your therapy
Therapy! Therapy! Therapy!
Therapy Therapy
Snap pop-a sweet emotion just broke loose
Don't care-it ain't nothing I can use
Ha! Ha!-ain't it funny how we all abuse you choose, abuse, you lose now
Therapy-you know we want to help we really care
Therapy-but when your money's gone you're out of here!

song performed by Infectious Grooves
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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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The Victories Of Love. Book I

I
From Frederick Graham

Mother, I smile at your alarms!
I own, indeed, my Cousin's charms,
But, like all nursery maladies,
Love is not badly taken twice.
Have you forgotten Charlotte Hayes,
My playmate in the pleasant days
At Knatchley, and her sister, Anne,
The twins, so made on the same plan,
That one wore blue, the other white,
To mark them to their father's sight;
And how, at Knatchley harvesting,
You bade me kiss her in the ring,
Like Anne and all the others? You,
That never of my sickness knew,
Will laugh, yet had I the disease,
And gravely, if the signs are these:

As, ere the Spring has any power,
The almond branch all turns to flower,
Though not a leaf is out, so she
The bloom of life provoked in me;
And, hard till then and selfish, I
Was thenceforth nought but sanctity
And service: life was mere delight
In being wholly good and right,
As she was; just, without a slur;
Honouring myself no less than her;
Obeying, in the loneliest place,
Ev'n to the slightest gesture, grace
Assured that one so fair, so true,
He only served that was so too.
For me, hence weak towards the weak,
No more the unnested blackbird's shriek
Startled the light-leaved wood; on high
Wander'd the gadding butterfly,
Unscared by my flung cap; the bee,
Rifling the hollyhock in glee,
Was no more trapp'd with his own flower,
And for his honey slain. Her power,
From great things even to the grass
Through which the unfenced footways pass,
Was law, and that which keeps the law,
Cherubic gaiety and awe;
Day was her doing, and the lark
Had reason for his song; the dark
In anagram innumerous spelt
Her name with stars that throbb'd and felt;

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poem by Coventry Patmore
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Canto the First

I
I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one,
Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant,
The age discovers he is not the true one;
Of such as these I should not care to vaunt,
I'll therefore take our ancient friend Don Juan—
We all have seen him, in the pantomime,
Sent to the devil somewhat ere his time.

II
Vernon, the butcher Cumberland, Wolfe, Hawke,
Prince Ferdinand, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe,
Evil and good, have had their tithe of talk,
And fill'd their sign posts then, like Wellesley now;
Each in their turn like Banquo's monarchs stalk,
Followers of fame, "nine farrow" of that sow:
France, too, had Buonaparté and Dumourier
Recorded in the Moniteur and Courier.

III
Barnave, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau,
Petion, Clootz, Danton, Marat, La Fayette,
Were French, and famous people, as we know:
And there were others, scarce forgotten yet,
Joubert, Hoche, Marceau, Lannes, Desaix, Moreau,
With many of the military set,
Exceedingly remarkable at times,
But not at all adapted to my rhymes.

IV
Nelson was once Britannia's god of war,
And still should be so, but the tide is turn'd;
There's no more to be said of Trafalgar,
'T is with our hero quietly inurn'd;
Because the army's grown more popular,
At which the naval people are concern'd;
Besides, the prince is all for the land-service,
Forgetting Duncan, Nelson, Howe, and Jervis.

V
Brave men were living before Agamemnon
And since, exceeding valorous and sage,
A good deal like him too, though quite the same none;
But then they shone not on the poet's page,
And so have been forgotten:—I condemn none,
But can't find any in the present age
Fit for my poem (that is, for my new one);
So, as I said, I'll take my friend Don Juan.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
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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:

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning (1871)
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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto II

THE ARGUMENT

The Saints engage in fierce Contests
About their Carnal interests;
To share their sacrilegious Preys,
According to their Rates of Grace;
Their various Frenzies to reform,
When Cromwel left them in a Storm
Till, in th' Effigy of Rumps, the Rabble
Burns all their Grandees of the Cabal.

THE learned write, an insect breeze
Is but a mungrel prince of bees,
That falls before a storm on cows,
And stings the founders of his house;
From whose corrupted flesh that breed
Of vermin did at first proceed.
So e're the storm of war broke out,
Religion spawn'd a various rout
Of petulant Capricious sects,
The maggots of corrupted texts,
That first run all religion down,
And after ev'ry swarm its own.
For as the Persian Magi once
Upon their mothers got their sons,
That were incapable t' enjoy
That empire any other way;
So PRESBYTER begot the other
Upon the good old Cause, his mother,
Then bore then like the Devil's dam,
Whose son and husband are the same.
And yet no nat'ral tie of blood
Nor int'rest for the common good
Cou'd, when their profits interfer'd,
Get quarter for each other's beard.
For when they thriv'd, they never fadg'd,
But only by the ears engag'd:
Like dogs that snarl about a bone,
And play together when they've none,
As by their truest characters,
Their constant actions, plainly appears.
Rebellion now began, for lack
Of zeal and plunders to grow slack;
The Cause and covenant to lessen,
And Providence to b' out of season:
For now there was no more to purchase
O' th' King's Revenue, and the Churches,
But all divided, shar'd, and gone,
That us'd to urge the Brethren on;
Which forc'd the stubborn'st for the Cause,

[...] Read more

poem by Samuel Butler
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Song of Wink Star

The Song of Wink Star
a happy story for children of all ages
story and text © Raj Arumugam, June 2008

☼ ☼

☼ Preamble

Come…children all, children of all ages…sit close and listen…
Come and listen to this happy story of the stars and of life…
Come children of the universe, children of all nations and of all races, and of all climates and of all kinds of space and dimensions and universes…
Come, dearest children of all beings of the living universe, come and listen to The Song of Wink Star…

Come and listen to this story, this happy story…listen, as the story itself sings to you…

Sit close then, and listen to the story that was not made by any, or written by a poet, or fashioned by grandfathers and grandmothers warming themselves at the fire of burning stars…

O dearest children all, come and listen to the story that lives
of itself, and that glows bright and happy….

Come…children all, children of all ages, come and listen to this happy story, the story so natural and smooth as life, as it sings itself to you….

☼ The Song of Wink Star
a happy story for children of all ages

☼ 1

Night Child, always so light and gentle, slept on a flower.
And every night, before he went to sleep, he would look up at the sky.
He would look at the eastern corner, five o’clock.

And there he would see all the stars in near and distant galaxies that were only visible to the People of Star Eyes.

Night Child was one of the People of Star Eyes. And so he could see the stars. And of all the stars he could see, he loved to watch Wink Star.

Wink Star twinkled and winked and laughed.
Every night Wink Star did that. Winked and laughed.

[...] Read more

poem by Raj Arumugam
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The Witch of Hebron

A Rabbinical Legend

Part I.
From morn until the setting of the sun
The rabbi Joseph on his knees had prayed,
And, as he rose with spirit meek and strong,
An Indian page his presence sought, and bowed
Before him, saying that a lady lay
Sick unto death, tormented grievously,
Who begged the comfort of his holy prayers.
The rabbi, ever to the call of grief
Open as day, arose; and girding straight
His robe about him, with the page went forth;
Who swiftly led him deep into the woods
That hung, heap over heap, like broken clouds
On Hebron’s southern terraces; when lo!
Across a glade a stately pile he saw,
With gleaming front, and many-pillared porch
Fretted with sculptured vinage, flowers and fruit,
And carven figures wrought with wondrous art
As by some Phidian hand.

But interposed
For a wide space in front, and belting all
The splendid structure with a finer grace,
A glowing garden smiled; its breezes bore
Airs as from paradise, so rich the scent
That breathed from shrubs and flowers; and fair the growths
Of higher verdure, gemm’d with silver blooms,
Which glassed themselves in fountains gleaming light
Each like a shield of pearl.

Within the halls
Strange splendour met the rabbi’s careless eyes,
Halls wonderful in their magnificance,
With pictured walls, and columns gleaming white
Like Carmel’s snow, or blue-veined as with life;
Through corridors he passed with tissues hung
Inwrought with threaded gold by Sidon’s art,
Or rich as sunset clouds with Tyrian dye;
Past lofty chambers, where the gorgeous gleam
Of jewels, and the stainèd radiance

Of golden lamps, showed many a treasure rare
Of Indian and Armenian workmanship
Which might have seemed a wonder of the world:
And trains of servitors of every clime,
Greeks, Persians, Indians, Ethiopians,
In richest raiment thronged the spacious halls.

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Harpur
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Getting Louder

Tonight is mine.
Tonight is just fine.
Tonight the last night anything and everything will be the same.
Time for change.

And let it get louder.

Tonight is mine.
Tonight is just fine.
Tonight is the last night anything and everything will be the same.
Time for change.

From an unobscured view I look down upon you.
And I just know it is fate.
I laugh, you laugh.
We made our choice on what we will do.
Barely surviving.
Living by each moment as if it was or last.
Love happens so fast.

Tonight is mine.
Tonight is just fine.
Tonight the last night anything and everything will be the same.
Time for change.

And let it get louder.

Tonight is mine.
Tonight is just fine.
Tonight the last night anything and everything will be the same.
Time for change.

We argue over the important things.
Nothing simple will ever divide us.
Connected at the hip.
Souls intertwined.
My god your so divine.
But personality is the important secret beneath the layers that are shed.
I'll be forever happy to have you each morning wake in my bed.

Tonight is mine.
Tonight is just fine.
Tonight the last night anything and everything will be the same.
Time for change.

And let it get louder.

Tonight is mine.
Tonight is just fine.
Tonight the last night anything and everything will be the same.

[...] Read more

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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The City of Dreadful Night

Per me si va nella citta dolente.

--Dante

Poi di tanto adoprar, di tanti moti
D'ogni celeste, ogni terrena cosa,
Girando senza posa,
Per tornar sempre la donde son mosse;
Uso alcuno, alcun frutto
Indovinar non so.

Sola nel mondo eterna, a cui si volve
Ogni creata cosa,
In te, morte, si posa
Nostra ignuda natura;
Lieta no, ma sicura
Dell' antico dolor . . .
Pero ch' esser beato
Nega ai mortali e nega a' morti il fato.

--Leopardi

PROEM

Lo, thus, as prostrate, "In the dust I write
My heart's deep languor and my soul's sad tears."
Yet why evoke the spectres of black night
To blot the sunshine of exultant years?
Why disinter dead faith from mouldering hidden?
Why break the seals of mute despair unbidden,
And wail life's discords into careless ears?

Because a cold rage seizes one at whiles
To show the bitter old and wrinkled truth
Stripped naked of all vesture that beguiles,
False dreams, false hopes, false masks and modes of youth;
Because it gives some sense of power and passion
In helpless innocence to try to fashion
Our woe in living words howe'er uncouth.

Surely I write not for the hopeful young,
Or those who deem their happiness of worth,
Or such as pasture and grow fat among
The shows of life and feel nor doubt nor dearth,
Or pious spirits with a God above them
To sanctify and glorify and love them,
Or sages who foresee a heaven on earth.

For none of these I write, and none of these
Could read the writing if they deigned to try;

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poem by James Thomson
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Anything Can Happen

Intro:
I got the skully to my face (hardcore)
I got the skully to my face (hardcore)
Cause anything can happen at the carnival
(yo make room, make room, make room, make room, make room)
You cant stop the shining
Yo, dont slip mike
You dont want to go there is all, trust me
I know your girl wit you, but you dont want to get embarassed
Trust me
Chorus:
Yo, when youre rolling to the carnival, anything can happen
What, what, say what, say what, anything can happen
Making love to your girlfriend, anything can happen
What? say what, say what, anything can happen
Shes sleepin wit your best friend cause anything can happen
Wh-a-at? say what, say what, anything can happen
You roll down the block, come back with your gat
And pow, cause anything can happen
Verse one:
Feel this composition, its a brand new dub
First thing I did, was went to the pub
Tequila with worm, lemon, salt, and no rocks
Cause when it hits my chest -- it gots to be hot
Uh haha, stop, clef can I rock, yo
Get out the bathroom, let me go again from the top
Feel this composition, I wrote it in the tub
First thing I did, was went to the pub
Tequila with worm, lemon, salt, and no rocks
Cause when it hits my chest -- it gots to be hot
Ahhh, stop, clef can I rock
Id like to give a shout out to my people on the block
For you silly willy playin thug cartoon
My infrared scope got your movements on zoom
Boom new toon, write songs in my room
Sleeping with the bride, even though I aint the groom
Your husband assume, come back with his goons
Put me in the trunk on your way to your honeymoon
Radio my platoon, wyclef to sev
i hear them playing elvis, they on they way to graceland
But they dont scare me, Im in the trunk, I aint sorry
Natural born killer, who slept with the enemy
Think quick, what should I do, what did double-oh-seven do?
I pulled a bomb from my shoe (hahahahaha)
And exploded the trunk (blaooww) I woke up half drunk
Over looked by a bunch of gypsies wit a bag of skunk
Chorus:
You got the skully to your face, star, anything can happen
What, what, say what, say what, anything can happen
Sellin crack in the corner, man, anything can happen

[...] Read more

song performed by Wyclef Jean
Added by Lucian Velea
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