That Smell
(allen collins - ronnie vanzant)
Whiskey bottles, and brand new cars
Oak tree youre in my way
Theres too much coke and too much smoke
Look whats going on inside you
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Angel of darkness is upon you
Stuck a needle in your arm
So take another toke, have a blow for your nose
One more drink fool, will drown you
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Now they call you prince charming
Cant speak a word when youre full of ludes
Say youll be all right come tomorrow
But tomorrow might not be here for you
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Hey, youre a fool you
Stick them needles in your arm
I know I been there before
One little problem that confronts you
Got a monkey on your back
Just one more fix, lord might do the trick
One hell of a price for you to get your kicks
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
song performed by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Added by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Things Go Better With Coke #1
Orbison/dees
Roy orbison wants to get together again
Baby, how it hurts to break up, but its so much fun to make up
Lets do the things we used to do, you love me and I love you
Lets talk again, joke again lets get together for a coke again
Things go better with coca cola, things go better with coke
Lets relive the date that we just broke, our favorite cafe, the special of the day
The jukebox playing, things go better with coke
Well, waiter, waiter, treat us right, you remember what we like
Shes back again, by my side again, waiter, we want to feel alive again
Things go better with coca cola, things go better with coke
I;m glad we kept the date we almost broke, our favorite cafe, the special of the day
The jukebox playing, things go better with coke
(spoken) you never get tired of its taste coke after coke
Things go better with coke #2
Orbison/dees
Roy orbison takes a break
Stayed out too late, at work at eight, dont wanna wait for that ten o clock break
Big man, if you can, let me go for a coke right now
For things go better with coca cola, things go better with coke
Ill get caught up if youll let me stop for a coke, a big tall frosty ice cold bottle of coke
Fun goes better with, food goes better with, people go better with coke
The real live one puts extra fun in you and everything you do
Big man, let me take a five minute break, things go better with coke, things go better with coke
(spoken) sometimes on big jobs I drink coke after coke after coke
And I never get tired of the taste
Yeah, things go better with coke
Things go better with coke #3
Orbison/dees
Things go better with coca cola, things go better with coke
Life is fun when youre refreshed and coke refreshes you the best, ah-ah
Fun goes better with, food goes better with, people go better with coke
The real live one puts extra fun in you and everything you do
Things go better with coca cola, things go better with coke
Life is fun when youre refreshed and coke refreshes you the best
So things go better with coca cola, yeah, things go better with coke
Things go better with coke #4
Orbison/dees
C-o-c-a c-o-l-a
Things go better with coca cola, things go better with coke
Life is much more fun when youre refreshed
Food goes better with, fun goes better with, you go better with coke
The real live one puts extra fun in you and everything you do
Things go better with coca cola, things go better with
Things go better with coke
C-o-c-a c-o-l-a
Things go better with coca cola, things go better with coke
Things go better with coca cola, things go better with.....coke
Things go better with coke #5
Orbison/dees
[...] Read more
song performed by Roy Orbison
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Beldame of Death
A crunch: afoot a dead arachnid
Spanning once a serving plate –
Oh! that others be alive
With such as me for spider bait!
I slunk along the silent hall
Of ancient ore attired in grime –
Feculent beyond the nose;
No bearing here, nor feel for time.
I shuddered in appreciation –
The ambience would mortify
A feeble mind, aghast, opined
Of murky thought, and typify
The will of Belial err I brought
Upon myself to loathe and dread
Exquisite retribution: to linger
Oftentimes alive, then dead.
Compulsion saw me edging on
Toward a narrow door of oak.
Behind, I knew, a greater evil
Waiting in her fusty cloak.
A choice of nil upon the table;
Aught of leave, I had to face
Alone the shrew – her flaming aura
Angling me; my deep disgrace
From ugly deeds I dealt in life,
A heinous world I honed in glee…
'Now take a crooked path to death,
For I have come to torture thee! '
Out of eyes of orange flame,
A piercing glare, then here it came –
The cackling cry of chanting song:
'You thought you'd die alone in pain
The once – nay nay! you'll die with me,
And so a catch: you'll die again
Ad infinitum - ever be!
Your soul to curse, my heart we'll gore,
Your liver to draw and quarter;
A sadomasochistic pair,
We'll slither together in slaughter! '
I answered only with a scream, from
Sensing near her craving lust.
[...] Read more
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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That Smell
Whiskey bottles, and brand new cars
Oak tree you're in my way
There's too much coke and too much smoke
Look what's going on inside you
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Angel of darkness is upon you
Stuck a needle in your arm
So take another toke, have a blow for your nose
One more drink fool, will drown you
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Now they call you Prince Charming
Can't speak a word when you're full of 'ludes
Say you'll be all right come tomorrow
But tomorrow might not be here for you
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Hey, you're a fool you
Stick them needles in your arm
I know I been there before
One little problem that confronts you
Got a monkey on your back
Just one more fix, Lord might do the trick
One hell of a price for you to get your kicks
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
song performed by 3 Doors Down
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tale II
THE PARTING HOUR.
Minutely trace man's life; year after year,
Through all his days let all his deeds appear,
And then though some may in that life be strange,
Yet there appears no vast nor sudden change:
The links that bind those various deeds are seen,
And no mysterious void is left between.
But let these binding links be all destroyed,
All that through years he suffer'd or enjoy'd,
Let that vast gap be made, and then behold -
This was the youth, and he is thus when old;
Then we at once the work of time survey,
And in an instant see a life's decay;
Pain mix'd with pity in our bosoms rise,
And sorrow takes new sadness from surprise.
Beneath yon tree, observe an ancient pair -
A sleeping man; a woman in her chair,
Watching his looks with kind and pensive air;
Nor wife, nor sister she, nor is the name
Nor kindred of this friendly pair the same;
Yet so allied are they, that few can feel
Her constant, warm, unwearied, anxious zeal;
Their years and woes, although they long have
loved,
Keep their good name and conduct unreproved:
Thus life's small comforts they together share,
And while life lingers for the grave prepare.
No other subjects on their spirits press,
Nor gain such int'rest as the past distress:
Grievous events, that from the mem'ry drive
Life's common cares, and those alone survive,
Mix with each thought, in every action share,
Darken each dream, and blend with every prayer.
To David Booth, his fourth and last-born boy,
Allen his name, was more than common joy;
And as the child grew up, there seem'd in him
A more than common life in every limb;
A strong and handsome stripling he became,
And the gay spirit answer'd to the frame;
A lighter, happier lad was never seen,
For ever easy, cheerful, or serene;
His early love he fix'd upon a fair
And gentle maid--they were a handsome pair.
They at an infant-school together play'd,
Where the foundation of their love was laid:
The boyish champion would his choice attend
In every sport, in every fray defend.
As prospects open'd, and as life advanced,
[...] Read more
poem by George Crabbe
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Rokeby: Canto III.
I.
The hunting tribes of air and earth
Respect the brethren of their birth;
Nature, who loves the claim of kind,
Less cruel chase to each assign'd.
The falcon, poised on soaring wing,
Watches the wild-duck by the spring;
The slow-hound wakes the fox's lair;
The greyhound presses on the hare;
The eagle pounces on the lamb;
The wolf devours the fleecy dam:
Even tiger fell, and sullen bear,
Their likeness and their lineage spare,
Man, only, mars kind Nature's plan,
And turns the fierce pursuit on man;
Plying war's desultory trade,
Incursion, flight, and ambuscade,
Since Nimrod, Cush's mighty son,
At first the bloody game begun.
II.
The Indian, prowling for his prey,
Who hears the settlers track his way,
And knows in distant forest far
Camp his red brethren of the war;
He, when each double and disguise
To baffle the pursuit he tries,
Low crouching now his head to hide,
Where swampy streams through rushes glide
Now covering with the wither'd leaves
The foot-prints that the dew receives;
He, skill'd in every sylvan guile,
Knows not, nor tries, such various wile,
As Risingham, when on the wind
Arose the loud pursuit behind.
In Redesdale his youth had heard
Each art her wily dalesmen dared,
When Rooken-edge, and Redswair high,
To bugle rung and bloodhound's cry,
Announcing Jedwood-axe and spear,
And Lid'sdale riders in the rear;
And well his venturous life had proved
The lessons that his childhood loved.
III.
Oft had he shown, in climes afar
Each attribute of roving war;
The sharpen'd ear, the piercing eye,
The quick resolve in danger nigh;
The speed, that in the flight or chase,
[...] Read more
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Rent
(again... again... again... ooooh
(again... again... again... again... ...)
You dress me up, Im your puppet
You buy me things, I love it
You bring me food, I need it
You give me love, I feed it
And look at the two of us in sympathy
With everything we see
I never want anything, its easy
You buy whatever I need
But look at my hopes, look at my dreams
The currency weve spent
(ooooh) I love you, oh, you pay my rent
(ooooh) I love you, oh, you pay my rent
You phone me in the evening on hearsay
And bought me caviar
You took me to a restaurant off broadway
To tell me who you are
We never-ever argue, we never calculate
The currency weve spent
(ooooh) I love you, oh, you pay my rent
(ooooh) I love you, you pay my rent
(ooooh) I love you, oh, you pay my rent
Im your puppet
I love it
And look at the two of us in sympathy
And sometimes ecstasy
Words mean so little, and money less
When youre lying next to me
But look at my hopes, look at my dreams
The currency weve spent
(ooooh) I love you, oh, you pay my rent
(ooooh) I love you, you pay my rent
(ooooh) ooh, I love you, you pay my rent
Look at my hopes, look at my dreams
The currency weve spent
(ooooh) I love you, oh, you pay my rent
(ooooh) I love you, you pay my rent
Look at my hopes, look at my dreams
The currency weve spent
(ooooh) I love you, oh, you pay my rent
(ooooh) I love you, you pay my rent
(ooooh) I love you, you pay my rent (its easy, its so easy)
(ooooh) you pay my rent (its easy, its so easy)
(ooooh) you pay my rent (its easy, its so easy)
(ooooh) I love you (its easy, its so easy)
(its easy, its so easy)
(its easy, its so easy)
(its easy, its so easy)
(its easy, its so easy)
[...] Read more
song performed by Pet Shop Boys
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Thurso’s Landing
I
The coast-road was being straightened and repaired again,
A group of men labored at the steep curve
Where it falls from the north to Mill Creek. They scattered and hid
Behind cut banks, except one blond young man
Who stooped over the rock and strolled away smiling
As if he shared a secret joke with the dynamite;
It waited until he had passed back of a boulder,
Then split its rock cage; a yellowish torrent
Of fragments rose up the air and the echoes bumped
From mountain to mountain. The men returned slowly
And took up their dropped tools, while a banner of dust
Waved over the gorge on the northwest wind, very high
Above the heads of the forest.
Some distance west of the road,
On the promontory above the triangle
Of glittering ocean that fills the gorge-mouth,
A woman and a lame man from the farm below
Had been watching, and turned to go down the hill. The young
woman looked back,
Widening her violet eyes under the shade of her hand. 'I think
they'll blast again in a minute.'
And the man: 'I wish they'd let the poor old road be. I don't
like improvements.' 'Why not?' 'They bring in the world;
We're well without it.' His lameness gave him some look of age
but he was young too; tall and thin-faced,
With a high wavering nose. 'Isn't he amusing,' she said, 'that
boy Rick Armstrong, the dynamite man,
How slowly he walks away after he lights the fuse. He loves to
show off. Reave likes him, too,'
She added; and they clambered down the path in the rock-face,
little dark specks
Between the great headland rock and the bright blue sea.
II
The road-workers had made their camp
North of this headland, where the sea-cliff was broken down and
sloped to a cove. The violet-eyed woman's husband,
Reave Thurso, rode down the slope to the camp in the gorgeous
autumn sundown, his hired man Johnny Luna
Riding behind him. The road-men had just quit work and four
or five were bathing in the purple surf-edge,
The others talked by the tents; blue smoke fragrant with food
and oak-wood drifted from the cabin stove-pipe
And slowly went fainting up the vast hill.
Thurso drew rein by
a group of men at a tent door
And frowned at them without speaking, square-shouldered and
heavy-jawed, too heavy with strength for so young a man,
He chose one of the men with his eyes. 'You're Danny Woodruff,
[...] Read more
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Cars Are Cars
Words & music by paul simon 1983
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Similarly made. similarly sold
In a motorcade. abandoned when theyre old
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Engine in the front. jack in the back
Wheels take the brunt. pinion and a rack
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
But people are strangers
They change with the curve
From time zone to time zone
As we can observe
They shut down their borders
And think theyre immune
They stand on their differences
And shoot at the moon
But cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Drive em on the left. drive em on the right
Susceptible to theft in the middle of the night
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
I once had a car
That was more like a home
I lived in it, loved in it
Polished its chrome
If some of my homes
Had been more like my car
I probably wouldnt have
Travelled this far
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
song performed by Paul Simon
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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 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
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Youre Gonna Get Whats Coming
(robert palmer)
You came up on me like a landslide
Once in awhile I get taken like that
And I like it
Ive got a thunderbird parked right outside
Give me a minute to finish this thing
And well light it.
In all this heat its a job keeping cool
Oh yeah
And I could fry an egg on you
You came up on me like a landslide
Once in awhile I get taken like that
And I like it
Youre gonna get whats coming
Youve been asking for it two days running
Youre gonna get whats coming
Youre gonna get whats coming to you
I hope that youre half as intrepid
As you make out
More often than not, Ill bet
You never got what you asked for
Keep on pouring until you hear me shout
And turn up the sound
If you want me to drive any faster
Caution went out when you walked in the room
If it never came back it would be too soon
Youre gonna get whats coming
Youve been asking for it two days running
Youre gonna get whats coming
Youre gonna get whats coming to you
Youre gonna get whats coming
Youve been asking for it two days running
Youre gonna get whats coming
Youre gonna get whats coming to you
You came up on me like a landslide
Once in awhile I get taken like that
And I like it
Youre gonna get whats coming
Youve been asking for it two days running
Youre gonna get whats coming
Youre gonna get whats coming to you
Youre gonna get whats coming
Youve been asking for it two days running
Youre gonna get whats coming
Youre gonna get whats coming to you
Youre gonna get whats coming
Youve been asking for it two days running
Youre gonna get whats coming
Youre gonna get whats coming to you
Youre gonna get whats coming
[...] Read more
song performed by Robert Palmer
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Big Ideas
I've had these jeans since i was born
And now they're ripped and now they're torn
And all my friends have skateboards
I want the toys of other boys
I want a knife and a gun and things
But mom and dad will not give in
And i can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
I can't put the needle in
No I can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
And now I know just what it is
It's called disease and it's got my head
It always runs where I hide
Too scared too talk, too scared to try
Too scared to know the reasons why
And all my friends say bye bye
And i can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
No I can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
And i can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
No I can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
song performed by Radiohead
Added by Lucian Velea
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Faithless, The Wonder Boy
I've had these jeans since i was born
And now they're ripped and now they're torn
And all my friends have skateboards
I want the toys of other boys
I want a knife and a gun and things
But mom and dad will not give in
And i can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
I can't put the needle in
No i can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
And now i know just what it is
It's called disease and it's got my head
It always runs where i hide
Too scared too talk, too scared to try
Too scared to know the reasons why
And all my friends say bye bye
And i can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
No i can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
And i can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
No i can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
Can't put the needle in
song performed by Radiohead
Added by Lucian Velea
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Faithless Wonder Boy
Ive had these jeans since I was born
And now theyre ripped and now theyre torn
And all my friends have skateboards
I want the toys of other boys
I want a knife and a gun and things
But mom and dad will not give in
And I cant put the needle in
Cant put the needle in
I cant put the needle in
No I cant put the needle in
Cant put the needle in
Cant put the needle in
And now I know just what it is
Its called disease and its got my head
It always runs where I hide
Too scared too talk, too scared to try
Too scared to know the reasons why
And all my friends say bye bye
And I cant put the needle in
Cant put the needle in
Cant put the needle in
No I cant put the needle in
Cant put the needle in
Cant put the needle in
And I cant put the needle in
Cant put the needle in
Cant put the needle in
No I cant put the needle in
Cant put the needle in
Cant put the needle in
song performed by Radiohead
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Twelve Days of Christmas – Walking
One fall while walking a path beside the Snake River I spotted a baby's pacifier hanging on a tree limb just over our heads. It caused me to start singing these words to the 12 Days of Christmas tune.
On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me
A pacifier in a bare tree
On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me
Two diaper pails
and a pacifier in a bare tree
On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me
Three baby rattles
Two diaper pails
and a pacifier in a bare tree
On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me
Four Lysol bottles
Three baby rattles
Two diaper pails
and a pacifier in a bare tree
On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me
Five baby bibs
Four Lysol bottles
Three baby rattles
Two diaper pails
and a pacifier in a bare tree
On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me
Six baby booties
Five baby bibs
Four Lysol bottles
Three baby rattles
Two diaper pails
and a pacifier in a bare tree
On the seventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me
Seven hours of bawling
Six baby booties
Five baby bibs
Four Lysol bottles
Three baby rattles
Two diaper pails
and a pacifier in a bare tree
On the eighth day of Christmas my true love gave to me
Eight baby blankets
Seven hours of bawling
Six baby booties
Five baby bibs
Four Lysol bottles
[...] Read more
poem by James L. A. Huetson
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Give Your Heart To The Hawks
1 he apples hung until a wind at the equinox,
That heaped the beach with black weed, filled the dry grass
Under the old trees with rosy fruit.
In the morning Fayne Fraser gathered the sound ones into a
basket,
The bruised ones into a pan. One place they lay so thickly
She knelt to reach them.
Her husband's brother passing
Along the broken fence of the stubble-field,
His quick brown eyes took in one moving glance
A little gopher-snake at his feet flowing through the stubble
To gain the fence, and Fayne crouched after apples
With her mop of red hair like a glowing coal
Against the shadow in the garden. The small shapely reptile
Flowed into a thicket of dead thistle-stalks
Around a fence-post, but its tail was not hidden.
The young man drew it all out, and as the coil
Whipped over his wrist, smiled at it; he stepped carefully
Across the sag of the wire. When Fayne looked up
His hand was hidden; she looked over her shoulder
And twitched her sunburnt lips from small white teeth
To answer the spark of malice in his eyes, but turned
To the apples, intent again. Michael looked down
At her white neck, rarely touched by the sun,
But now the cinnabar-colored hair fell off from it;
And her shoulders in the light-blue shirt, and long legs like a boy's
Bare-ankled in blue-jean trousers, the country wear;
He stooped quietly and slipped the small cool snake
Up the blue-denim leg. Fayne screamed and writhed,
Clutching her thigh. 'Michael, you beast.' She stood up
And stroked her leg, with little sharp cries, the slender invader
Fell down her ankle.
Fayne snatched for it and missed;
Michael stood by rejoicing, his rather small
Finely cut features in a dance of delight;
Fayne with one sweep flung at his face
All the bruised and half-spoiled apples in the pan,
[...] Read more
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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It's Death Again
It's Death again - He's always there -
Watching, waiting - e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood -
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But O! no use, he'll never go.
The adamant phantom; don't you know
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime? -
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be…'
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Girl
Girl, girl, girl
Thats your life
Girl
Smoking that glass pipe
I come from the city of dope
It couldnt be saved by john the pope
Coz the base head lyric sees the light
Two fat raps to the head last night
Cocaine cocaine, is that your rap
Every day and night its coming back
C-o-c-a-i-n-e
The rich mans high what it used to be
But things looking different in eighty-five
Cocaine, cocaine is that your high
Since age thirteen what have I seen
A lotto of base heads straight coke fiends
Snorting, puffing, thats the life
But its all over when you hit that pipe
Big coke dealers on the knock
All smoked up with no more rocks
Base heads buy, coke from him
But he smokes more than all of them
The big coke man, aint too cool
He smokes more than all you fools
Hes gotta a lotta do, but not a lotta bank
A brand new car with an empty tank
Pretty white smoke all in his chest
And a 84 benz, reposessed
Girl, thats your life
Girl smoking that glass pipe
Fresh young tender only fifteen
Walking on a strip just wanna be seen
Never touch coke a day in her life
But now that girls gotta have her pipe
Coz she met a man his name was jock
Do it to her a good and he smoked a rock
Put it in her joint all crunched up
And now everyday she takes a puff
Girl, thats your life
Girl smoking that glass pipe
I know you know what coke can do
Come into your life and take over you
Now you kicking back thinking bout your dream
But it never comes true coz youre just a coke fiend
You asked your woman whats the prob
She said its you coz you dont do your job
Used to make good love from the start
But now coke had done damage to your private parts
Girl, thats your life
Girl smoking that glass pipe
[...] Read more
song performed by Too Short
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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Paradise Lost: Book 09
No more of talk where God or Angel guest
With Man, as with his friend, familiar us'd,
To sit indulgent, and with him partake
Rural repast; permitting him the while
Venial discourse unblam'd. I now must change
Those notes to tragick; foul distrust, and breach
Disloyal on the part of Man, revolt,
And disobedience: on the part of Heaven
Now alienated, distance and distaste,
Anger and just rebuke, and judgement given,
That brought into this world a world of woe,
Sin and her shadow Death, and Misery
Death's harbinger: Sad talk!yet argument
Not less but more heroick than the wrath
Of stern Achilles on his foe pursued
Thrice fugitive about Troy wall; or rage
Of Turnus for Lavinia disespous'd;
Or Neptune's ire, or Juno's, that so long
Perplexed the Greek, and Cytherea's son:
If answerable style I can obtain
Of my celestial patroness, who deigns
Her nightly visitation unimplor'd,
And dictates to me slumbering; or inspires
Easy my unpremeditated verse:
Since first this subject for heroick song
Pleas'd me long choosing, and beginning late;
Not sedulous by nature to indite
Wars, hitherto the only argument
Heroick deem'd chief mastery to dissect
With long and tedious havock fabled knights
In battles feign'd; the better fortitude
Of patience and heroick martyrdom
Unsung; or to describe races and games,
Or tilting furniture, imblazon'd shields,
Impresses quaint, caparisons and steeds,
Bases and tinsel trappings, gorgeous knights
At joust and tournament; then marshall'd feast
Serv'd up in hall with sewers and seneshals;
The skill of artifice or office mean,
Not that which justly gives heroick name
To person, or to poem. Me, of these
Nor skill'd nor studious, higher argument
Remains; sufficient of itself to raise
That name, unless an age too late, or cold
Climate, or years, damp my intended wing
Depress'd; and much they may, if all be mine,
Not hers, who brings it nightly to my ear.
The sun was sunk, and after him the star
Of Hesperus, whose office is to bring
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poem by John Milton
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