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Deadlines are things that we pass through on the way to finishing.

quote by Peter Gabriel
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Please Don't Pass Me By

I was walking in new york city and i brushed up against the man in front of me. i felt a cardboard placard on his back. and when we passed a streetlight, i could read it, it said "please do
Ass me by - i am blind, but you can see -i've been blinded totally - please don't pass me by." i was walking along 7th avenue, when i came to 14th street i saw on the corner curious mutilat
Of the human form; it was a school for handicapped people. and there were cripples, and people in wheelchairs and crutches and it was snowing, and i got this sense that the whole city was singin
S:
Oh please don't pass me by,
Oh please don't pass me by,
For i am blind, but you can see,
Yes, i've been blinded totally,
Oh please don't pass me by.
And you know as i was walking i thought it was them who were singing it, i thought it was they who were singing it, i thought it was the other who was singing it, i thought it was someone else.
S i moved along i knew it was me, and that i was singing it to myself. it went:
Please don't pass me by,
Oh please don't pass me by,
For i am blind, but you can see,
Well, i've been blinded totally,
Oh please don't pass me by.
Oh please don't pass me by.
Now i know that you're sitting there deep in your velvet seats and you're thinking "uh, he's up there saying something that he thinks about, but i'll never have to sing that song." but
Omise you friends, that you're going to be singing this song: it may not be tonight, it may not be tomorrow, but one day you'll be on your knees and i want you to know the words when the time co
Because you're going to have to sing it to yourself, or to another, or to your brother. you're going to have to learn to sing this song, it goes:
Please don't pass me by,
Ah you don't have to sing this .. not for you.
Please don't pass me by,
For i am blind, but you can see,
Yes, i've been blinded totally,
Oh please don't pass me by.
Well i sing this for the jews and the gypsies and the smoke that they made. and i sing this for the children of england, their faces so grave. and i sing this for a saviour with no one to save.
Won't you be naked for me? hey, won't you be naked for me? it goes:
Please don't pass me by,
Oh please don't pass me by,
For i am blind, but you can see,
Yes, i've been blinded totally,
Oh now, please don't pass me by.
Now there's nothing that i tell you that will help you connect the blood tortured night with the day that comes next. but i want it to hurt you, i want it to end. oh, won't you be naked for me?
W:
Please don't pass me by,
Oh please don't pass me by,
For i am blind, but you can see,
Yes, i've been blinded totally,
Oh now, please don't pass me by.
Well i sing this song for you blonde beasts, i sing this song for you venuses upon your shells on the foam of the sea. and i sing this for the freaks and the cripples, and the hunchback, and the
Ed, and the burning, and the maimed, and the broken, and the torn, and all of those that you talk about at the coffee tables, at the meetings, and the demonstrations, on the streets, in your mus
N my songs. i mean the real ones that are burning, i mean the real ones that are burning
I say, please don't pass me by,
Oh now, please don't pass me by,
For i am blind, but you can see,
Ah now, i've been blinded totally,
Oh no, please don't pass me by.
I know that you still think that its me. i know that you think that there's somebody else. i know that these words aren't yours. but i tell you friends that one day
You're going to get down on your knees,

[...] Read more

song performed by Leonard Cohen
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Magic & Loss - The Summation

When you pass through the fire, you pass through humble
You pass through a maze of self doubt
When you pass through humble, the lights can blind you
Some people never figure that out
You pass through arrogance, you pass through hurt
You pass through an ever present past
And its best not to wait for luck to save you
Pass through the fire to the light
Pass through the fire to the light
Pass through the fire to the light
Its best not to wait for luck to save you
Pass through the fire to the light
As you pass through the fire, your right hand waving
There are things you have to throw out
That caustic dread inside your head
Will never help you out
You have to be very strong, cause youll start from zero
Over and over again
And as the smoke clears theres an all consuming fire
Lying straight ahead
Lying straight ahead
Lying straight ahead
As the smoke clears theres an all consuming fire
Lying straight ahead
They say no one person can do it all
But you want to in your head
But you cant be shakespeare and you cant be joyce
So what is left instead
Youre stuck with yourself and a rage that can hurt you
You have to start at the beginning again
And just this moment this wonderful fire
Started up again
When you pass through humble, when you pass through sickly
When you pass through Im better than you all
When you pass through anger and self deprecation
And have the strength to acknowledge it all
When the past makes you laugh and you can savor the magic
That let you survive your own war
You find that that fire is passion
And theres a door up ahead not a wall
As you pass through fire as you pass through fire
Trying to remember its name
When you pass through fire licking at your lips
You cannot remain the same
And if the buildings burning move towards that door
But dont put the flames out
Theres a bit of magic in everything
And then some loss to even things out
Some loss to even things out
Some loss to even things out

[...] Read more

song performed by Lou Reed
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pass That Dutch

>[Intro]
Listen up everyone! we have been just informed
That there's an unknown virus that's attacking all clubs
Symptoms have been said to be - heaving breathing
Wild dancing, coughing
So when you hear the sound - WHO-DI-WHOOOO!
Run for cover..
WOOOOOO! Ahh daddy! Ooooo! Ah! oh, ooh!
Pass that dutch (ah), pass that dutch (ooh)
Pass that dutch (ah), pass that dutch (ah)
Pass that dutch (ah), pass that dutch (ah)
Pass that dutch (whoo), pass that dutch
[Verse 1]
Misdemeanor on the floor, pretty boy here I come
Pumps in the bunk make you wanna hurt something
I can take your man I don't have to sex em
Hang em out the window call me Micheal Jackson (hehehee!)
I'm a pain in your rectum, I am that bitch y'all slept on
Heavy hitter, rhyme spitter, call me Re-Run
Hey hey hey, I'm what's happ'nin
Hypnotic to get my drink (that's right!)
Shake ya ass till it stink (that's right!)
Mr. Mos' on the beat (that's right!)
Put it down for the streets (that's right!)
[Chorus]
(WHO-DI-WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!)
Pass that dutch, pass that dutch
Pass that dutch, pass that dutch, pass that dutch
Come on pass the dutch baby! (ahh!)
Shake-shake shake ya stuff ladies!
(WHO-DI-WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!)
Pass that dutch, pass that dutch
Pass that dutch, pass that dutch
Pop that, pop that, jiggle that fat (ahh!)
Don't stop, get it till ya clothes get wet
[Verse 2]
Number one - drums go bump, bump, bump
This beat here will make you boomp, boomp, jump
If you's a fat one, put your clothes back on
Before you start putting pot holes in my lawn
Oh my God, show em I'm large
Shove my beat up, attack like my name was Saddam
I am the bomb from New York to Milan
And I can write a song sicker than Jeffrey Dahm'
(Woop woop!) Don't touch my car alarm
Break in my car you will hear "Viper Armed"
I've been a superstar since Daddy Kane was raw
I'm live on stage, c'mon and give me some applause [applause]
"Thank you! oh thank you, you all are so wonderful!"
[Chorus]

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song performed by Missy Elliott
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pass The Dutch

[Intro]
Listen up everyone! we have been just informed That there's an unknown virus that's attacking all clubs Symptoms have been said to be - heaving breathing Wild dancing, coughing So when you hear the sound - WHO-DI-WHOOOO! Run for cover.. WOOOOOO! Ahh daddy! Ooooo! Ah! oh, ooh! Pass that dutch (ah), pass that dutch (ooh) Pass that dutch (ah), pass that dutch (ah) Pass that dutch (ah), pass that dutch (ah) Pass that dutch (whoo), pass that dutch
[Verse 1]
Misdemeanor on the flow, pretty boy here I come Pumps in the bunk make you wanna hurt something I can take your man I don't have to sex em Hang em out the window call me Micheal Jackson (hehehee!) I'm a pain in your rectum, I am that bitch y'all slept on Heavy hitter, rhyme spitter, call me Re-Run Hey hey hey, I'm what's happ'nin Now to get my drink (that's right!) Shake ya ass till it stink (that's right!) Mr. Mos' on the beat (that's right!) Put it down for the streets (that's right!)
[Chorus]
(WHO-DI-WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!) Pass that dutch, pass that dutch Pass that dutch, pass that dutch, pass that dutch Come on pass the dutch baby! (ahh!) Shake-shake shake ya stuff baby! (WHO-DI-WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!) Pass that dutch, pass that dutch Pass that dutch, pass that dutch Pop that, pop that, jiggle that fat (ahh!) Don't stop, get it till ya clothes get wet
[Verse 2]
Number one - drums go bump, bump, bump This beat here will make you hoomp, boomp, jump If you's a fat one, put your clothes back on Before you start putting pot holes in my lawn Oh my God, show em I'm large Shove my beat up, attack like my name was Saddam I am the bomb from New York to Milan And I can write a song sicker than Jeffrey Dahm' (Woop woop!) Don't touch my car alarm Break in my car you will hear "Viper Armed" I've been a superstar since Daddy Kane was raw I'm live

song performed by Missy Elliott
Added by Lucian Velea
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Magic And Loss

When you pass through the fire
you pass through humble
You pass through a maze of self doubt
When you pass through humble
the lights can blind you
Some people never figure that out
You pass through arrogance you pass through hurt
You pass through an ever present past
and it's best not to wait for luck to save you
Pass through the fire to the light
As you pass through the fire
your right hand waving
there are things you have to throw out
That caustic dread inside your head
will never help you out
You have to be very strong
'cause you'll start from zero
over and over again
And as the smoke clears
there's an all consuming fire
lying straight ahead
They say no one person can do it all
but you want to in your head
But you can't be Joyce
so what is left instead
You're stuck with yourself
and a rage that can hurt you
You have to start at the beginning again
And just this moment
This wonderful fire started up again
When you pass through humble
when you pass through sickly
When you pass through
I'm better than you all
When you pass through
anger and self deprecation
and have the strength to acknowledge it all
When the past makes you laugh
and you can savor the magic
that let you survive your own war
You find that that fire is passion
and there's a door up ahead not a wall
As you pass through fire as you pass through fire
trying to remember its name
When you pass through fire licking at your lips
you cannot remain the same
And if the building' burning
move towards that door
but don't put the flames out
There's a bit of magic in everything

[...] Read more

song performed by Lou Reed
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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto I

THE ARGUMENT

The Knight and Squire resolve, at once,
The one the other to renounce.
They both approach the Lady's Bower;
The Squire t'inform, the Knight to woo her.
She treats them with a Masquerade,
By Furies and Hobgoblins made;
From which the Squire conveys the Knight,
And steals him from himself, by Night.

'Tis true, no lover has that pow'r
T' enforce a desperate amour,
As he that has two strings t' his bow,
And burns for love and money too;
For then he's brave and resolute,
Disdains to render in his suit,
Has all his flames and raptures double,
And hangs or drowns with half the trouble,
While those who sillily pursue,
The simple, downright way, and true,
Make as unlucky applications,
And steer against the stream their passions.
Some forge their mistresses of stars,
And when the ladies prove averse,
And more untoward to be won
Than by CALIGULA the Moon,
Cry out upon the stars, for doing
Ill offices to cross their wooing;
When only by themselves they're hindred,
For trusting those they made her kindred;
And still, the harsher and hide-bounder
The damsels prove, become the fonder.
For what mad lover ever dy'd
To gain a soft and gentle bride?
Or for a lady tender-hearted,
In purling streams or hemp departed?
Leap'd headlong int' Elysium,
Through th' windows of a dazzling room?
But for some cross, ill-natur'd dame,
The am'rous fly burnt in his flame.
This to the Knight could be no news,
With all mankind so much in use;
Who therefore took the wiser course,
To make the most of his amours,
Resolv'd to try all sorts of ways,
As follows in due time and place

No sooner was the bloody fight,
Between the Wizard, and the Knight,

[...] Read more

poem by Samuel Butler
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Cup Of Wonder

May I make my fond excuses
For the lateness of the hour,
But we accept your invitation, and we bring you beltanes flower.
For the may day is the great day, sung along the old straight track.
And those who ancient lines did lay
Will heed the song that calls them back.
Pass the word and pass the lady, pass the plate to all who hunger.
Pass the wit of ancient wisdom, pass the cup of crimson wonder.
Ask the green man where he comes from, ask the cup that fills with red.
Ask the old grey standing stones that show the sun its way to bed.
Question all as to their ways,
And learn the secrets that they hold.
Walk the lines of natures palm
Crossed with silver and with gold.
Pass the cup and pass the lady, pass the plate to all who hunger.
Pass the wit of ancient wisdom, pass the cup of crimson wonder.
Join in black decembers sadness,
Lie in augusts welcome corn.
Stir the cup thats ever-filling
With the blood of all thats born.
But the may day is the great day, sung along the old straight track.
And those who ancient lines did lay
Will heed this song that calls them back.
Pass the word and pass the lady, pass the plate to all who hunger.
Pass the wit of ancient wisdom, pass the cup of crimson wonder.

song performed by Jethro Tull
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Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto II.

I.
Come, blue-eyed maid of heaven!-but thou, alas!
Didst never yet one mortal song inspire-
Goddess of Wisdom! here thy temple was,
And is, despite of war and wasting fire,
And years, that bade thy worship to expire:
But worse than steel, and flame, and ages slow,
Is the dread sceptre and dominion dire
Of men who never felt the sacred glow
That thoughts of thee and thine on polish'd breasts bestow.

II.
Ancient of days! august Athena! where,
Where are thy men of might? thy grand in soul?
Gone-glimmering through the dream of things that were:
First in the race that led to Glory's goal,
They won, and pass'd away-is this the whole?
A school-boy's tale, the wonder of an hour!
The warrior's weapon and the sophist's stole
Are sought in vain, and o'er each mouldering tower,
Dim with the mist of years, grey flits the shade of power.

III.
Son of the morning, rise! approach you here!
Come-but molest not yon defenceless urn:
Look on this spot-a nation's sepulchre!
Abode of gods, whose shrines no longer burn.
Even gods must yield-religions take their turn:
'Twas Jove's--2tis Mahomet's-and other creeds
Will rise with other years, till man shall learn
Vainly his incense soars, his victim bleeds;
Poor child of Doubt and Death, whose hope is built on reeds.

IV.
Bound to the earth, he lifts his eye to heaven-
Is't not enough, unhappy thing! to know
Thou art? Is this a boon so kindly given,
That being, thou wouldst be again, and go,
Thou know'st not, reck'st not to what region, so
On earth no more, but mingled with the skies?
Still wilt thou dream on future joy and woe?
Regard and weigh yon dust before it flies:
That little urn saith more than thousand homilies.

V.
Or burst the vanish'd Hero's lofty mound;
Far on the solitary shore he sleeps:
He fell, and falling nations mourn'd around;
But now not one of saddening thousands weeps,
Nor warlike-worshipper his vigil keeps

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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Pass The Gun Around

Sonny wakes up in the morning feeling kinda sick
Needs a little Stoli Vadka, needs it really quick
Sees a little blood run from his eyes
Feels a little hotel paralyzed
Pass the gun around
Give everyone a shot... give everyone a shot, you gotta
Pass the gun around
And throw me in the local river, let me float away
I wake up watching cartoons... the television's on
There's a couple of party balloons and all my money's gone
She was just a reason to unwind
And actually the last thing I could find
Why don't you, pass the gun around
Give everyone a shot... give everyone a shot, you better
Pass the gun around
And dump me in the local river, let me float away
Float away, ah float away
Pass the gun around
Give everyone a shot... give everyone a shot, why don't you
Pass the gun around
Throw me in the local river, let me float away
Sonny wakes up in the morning, there's a stranger in his bed
Someone's pounding on the hotel door, he wishes he was dead
I've had so many blackout nights before
I don't think I can take this anymore
Why don't you, pass the gun around
Give everyone a shot... give everyone a shot, why don't you
Pass the gun around
Give everyone a shot... give everyone a shot, we're gonna
Pass the gun around
Give everyone a shot... give everyone a shot, we're gonna
Pass the gun around
Give everyone a shot... give everyone a shot, you gotta
Pass the gun around
Give everyone a shot... give everyone a shot, you gotta
Pass the gun around
Give everyone a shot... give everyone a shot, you gotta
Pass the gun around
Da Da

song performed by Alice Cooper
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Lara

LARA. [1]

CANTO THE FIRST.

I.

The Serfs are glad through Lara's wide domain, [2]
And slavery half forgets her feudal chain;
He, their unhoped, but unforgotten lord —
The long self-exiled chieftain is restored:
There be bright faces in the busy hall,
Bowls on the board, and banners on the wall;
Far chequering o'er the pictured window, plays
The unwonted fagots' hospitable blaze;
And gay retainers gather round the hearth,
With tongues all loudness, and with eyes all mirth.

II.

The chief of Lara is return'd again:
And why had Lara cross'd the bounding main?
Left by his sire, too young such loss to know,
Lord of himself; — that heritage of woe,
That fearful empire which the human breast
But holds to rob the heart within of rest! —
With none to check, and few to point in time
The thousand paths that slope the way to crime;
Then, when he most required commandment, then
Had Lara's daring boyhood govern'd men.
It skills not, boots not, step by step to trace
His youth through all the mazes of its race;
Short was the course his restlessness had run,
But long enough to leave him half undone.

III.

And Lara left in youth his fatherland;
But from the hour he waved his parting hand
Each trace wax'd fainter of his course, till all
Had nearly ceased his memory to recall.
His sire was dust, his vassals could declare,
'Twas all they knew, that Lara was not there;
Nor sent, nor came he, till conjecture grew
Cold in the many, anxious in the few.
His hall scarce echoes with his wonted name,
His portrait darkens in its fading frame,
Another chief consoled his destined bride,
The young forgot him, and the old had died;
"Yet doth he live!" exclaims the impatient heir,
And sighs for sables which he must not wear.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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Lara. A Tale

The Serfs are glad through Lara's wide domain,
And slavery half forgets her feudal chain;
He, their unhoped, but unforgotten lord--
The long self-exiled chieftain is restored:
There be bright faces in the busy hall,
Bowls on the board, and banners on the wall;
Far chequering o'er the pictured window, plays
The unwonted fagots' hospitable blaze;
And gay retainers gather round the hearth,
With tongues all loudness, and with eyes all mirth.

II.
The chief of Lara is return'd again:
And why had Lara cross'd the bounding main?
Left by his sire, too young such loss to know,
Lord of himself;--that heritage of woe,
That fearful empire which the human breast
But holds to rob the heart within of rest!--
With none to check, and few to point in time
The thousand paths that slope the way to crime;
Then, when he most required commandment, then
Had Lara's daring boyhood govern'd men.
It skills not, boots not, step by step to trace
His youth through all the mazes of its race;
Short was the course his restlessness had run,
But long enough to leave him half undone.

III.
And Lara left in youth his fatherland;
But from the hour he waved his parting hand
Each trace wax'd fainter of his course, till all
Had nearly ceased his memory to recall.
His sire was dust, his vassals could declare,
'Twas all they knew, that Lara was not there;
Nor sent, nor came he, till conjecture grew
Cold in the many, anxious in the few.
His hall scarce echoes with his wonted name,
His portrait darkens in its fading frame,
Another chief consoled his destined bride,
The young forgot him, and the old had died;
'Yet doth he live!' exclaims the impatient heir,
And sighs for sables which he must not wear.
A hundred scutcheons deck with gloomy grace
The Laras' last and longest dwelling-place;
But one is absent from the mouldering file,
That now were welcome to that Gothic pile.

IV.
He comes at last in sudden loneliness,
And whence they know not, why they need not guess;

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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The Corsair

'O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our soul's as free
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam,
Survey our empire, and behold our home!
These are our realms, no limits to their sway-
Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey.
Ours the wild life in tumult still to range
From toil to rest, and joy in every change.
Oh, who can tell? not thou, luxurious slave!
Whose soul would sicken o'er the heaving wave;
Not thou, vain lord of wantonness and ease!
whom slumber soothes not - pleasure cannot please -
Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried,
And danced in triumph o'er the waters wide,
The exulting sense - the pulse's maddening play,
That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way?
That for itself can woo the approaching fight,
And turn what some deem danger to delight;
That seeks what cravens shun with more than zeal,
And where the feebler faint can only feel -
Feel - to the rising bosom's inmost core,
Its hope awaken and Its spirit soar?
No dread of death if with us die our foes -
Save that it seems even duller than repose:
Come when it will - we snatch the life of life -
When lost - what recks it but disease or strife?
Let him who crawls enamour'd of decay,
Cling to his couch, and sicken years away:
Heave his thick breath, and shake his palsied head;
Ours - the fresh turf; and not the feverish bed.
While gasp by gasp he falters forth his soul,
Ours with one pang - one bound - escapes control.
His corse may boast its urn and narrow cave,
And they who loath'd his life may gild his grave:
Ours are the tears, though few, sincerely shed,
When Ocean shrouds and sepulchres our dead.
For us, even banquets fond regret supply
In the red cup that crowns our memory;
And the brief epitaph in danger's day,
When those who win at length divide the prey,
And cry, Remembrance saddening o'er each brow,
How had the brave who fell exulted now!'

II.
Such were the notes that from the Pirate's isle
Around the kindling watch-fire rang the while:
Such were the sounds that thrill'd the rocks along,
And unto ears as rugged seem'd a song!
In scatter'd groups upon the golden sand,
They game-carouse-converse-or whet the brand:

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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Pass It Around

I wish I had a place to stay in l.a. for a week or so.
I feel like bein jive, hangin out, maybe go to mexico.
cause dreamin, baby, thats the way I wanna be.
Just wanna sit in a tree, sail out to sea, live like some fantasy, ahh baby.
cause Im tired of thinkin, and too much drinkin, all my troubles away.
Tired of goin to get layed at the lost and found.
Tired of dealin with love hurt feelings, and all I got to say,
In view of all thats been goin down,
I think Ill go on out and pass it around.
I wonder why Im doin, what Ive been doin for a while.
Cant say its the money, no, so maybe its the style.
cause dreamin, baby, thats the way that I like it.
Just wanna get on a plane, go some place insane, throw myself one real good fit.
cause Im tired of thinkin, and too much drinkin, all my troubles away.
Tired of goin to get layed at the lost and found.
Tired of dealin with love hurt feelings, and all I got to say,
In view of all thats been goin down,
I think Ill go on out and pass it around.
I think Ill go on out and pass it around.
Listen to me baby.
Pass it around.
I think Ill go on out and pass it around.
I want to pass it around.
I want to get on out and pass it around.
I want to pass it around.
cause Im tired of thinkin, and too much drinkin, all my troubles away.
I want to pass it around.
Tired of goin to get layed at the lost and found.
I think Ill go on out and pass it around.
Tired of dealin with love hurt feelings, and all I got to say,
I want to pass it around.
In view of all thats been goin down,
I think Ill go on out and pass it around.

song performed by Grand Funk Railroad
Added by Lucian Velea
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Canto the Second

I
Oh ye! who teach the ingenuous youth of nations,
Holland, France, England, Germany, or Spain,
I pray ye flog them upon all occasions,
It mends their morals, never mind the pain:
The best of mothers and of educations
In Juan's case were but employ'd in vain,
Since, in a way that's rather of the oddest, he
Became divested of his native modesty.

II
Had he but been placed at a public school,
In the third form, or even in the fourth,
His daily task had kept his fancy cool,
At least, had he been nurtured in the north;
Spain may prove an exception to the rule,
But then exceptions always prove its worth -—
A lad of sixteen causing a divorce
Puzzled his tutors very much, of course.

III
I can't say that it puzzles me at all,
If all things be consider'd: first, there was
His lady-mother, mathematical,
A—never mind; his tutor, an old ass;
A pretty woman (that's quite natural,
Or else the thing had hardly come to pass);
A husband rather old, not much in unity
With his young wife—a time, and opportunity.

IV
Well—well, the world must turn upon its axis,
And all mankind turn with it, heads or tails,
And live and die, make love and pay our taxes,
And as the veering wind shifts, shift our sails;
The king commands us, and the doctor quacks us,
The priest instructs, and so our life exhales,
A little breath, love, wine, ambition, fame,
Fighting, devotion, dust,—perhaps a name.

V
I said that Juan had been sent to Cadiz -—
A pretty town, I recollect it well -—
'T is there the mart of the colonial trade is
(Or was, before Peru learn'd to rebel),
And such sweet girls—I mean, such graceful ladies,
Their very walk would make your bosom swell;
I can't describe it, though so much it strike,
Nor liken it—I never saw the like:

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poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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On The Road To Gethsemane

on the road to Gethsemane...
i pass burned out buildings,
farm lands scorched by the bombing.
i pass the skeleton bodies
of young children who starved.
i pass the unmarked graves,
of young boys sent to war.
i pass the flag of the liars,
and the tents of mourning.
i pass vacant factories,
and houses left empty.
i pass through cocaine streets,
where all flesh is for sale.
i pass the unemployed masses,
and their desperate eyes.
i pass the baby born unwanted,
and the prison's stink.
i pass empty churches,
and hollow ringing bells.
i pass families broken,
and peoples enslaved.
i pass the moral guns of prejudice,
rank with immorality!
i pass the crippled, the sick,
and those desperately alone...
these tears of blood
are human tears,
this cross we all bear!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Forest Sanctuary - Part I.

I.
The voices of my home!-I hear them still!
They have been with me through the dreamy night-
The blessed household voices, wont to fill
My heart's clear depths with unalloy'd delight!
I hear them still, unchang'd:-though some from earth
Are music parted, and the tones of mirth-
Wild, silvery tones, that rang through days more bright!
Have died in others,-yet to me they come,
Singing of boyhood back-the voices of my home!

II.
They call me through this hush of woods, reposing
In the grey stillness of the summer morn,
They wander by when heavy flowers are closing,
And thoughts grow deep, and winds and stars are born;
Ev'n as a fount's remember'd gushings burst
On the parch'd traveller in his hour of thirst,
E'en thus they haunt me with sweet sounds, till worn
By quenchless longings, to my soul I say-
Oh! for the dove's swift wings, that I might flee away,

III.
And find mine ark!-yet whither?-I must bear
A yearning heart within me to the grave.
I am of those o'er whom a breath of air-
Just darkening in its course the lake's bright wave,
And sighing through the feathery canes -hath power
To call up shadows, in the silent hour,
From the dim past, as from a wizard's cave!-
So must it be!-These skies above me spread,
Are they my own soft skies?-Ye rest not here, my dead!

IV.
Ye far amidst the southern flowers lie sleeping,
Your graves all smiling in the sunshine clear,
Save one!-a blue, lone, distant main is sweeping
High o'er one gentle head-ye rest not here!-
'Tis not the olive, with a whisper swaying,
Not thy low ripplings, glassy water, playing
Through my own chesnut groves, which fill mine ear;
But the faint echoes in my breast that dwell,
And for their birth-place moan, as moans the ocean-shell.

V.
Peace!-I will dash these fond regrets to earth,
Ev'n as an eagle shakes the cumbering rain
From his strong pinion. Thou that gav'st me birth,
And lineage, and once home,-my native Spain!
My own bright land-my father's land-my child's!

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poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Gypsy Twist

The gypsy walked at the shingle,
Her dress flared out in the breeze,
Her hair tied back with a coloured scarf
As she wandered at her ease,
She fed the gulls at the water's edge
And she gazed back, moodily,
Where the Master of Harrington Hall was stood
As he watched her, through the trees.

While back at the house there, on the hill,
His wife sat in despair,
She'd worn her prettiest dress for him,
She'd combed her auburn hair,
She'd flushed her cheeks with a touch of rouge,
Her lips were gypsy red,
But she hadn't attracted a single glance
From his lordship's noble head.

He'd taken her as a child, and taught her
How to walk with grace,
He'd sent her off to a finishing school
To learn her lady's place,
She'd learnt to stifle emotion when
It rose in her frightened eyes,
And sat with her needlework and thread,
A work that she despised!

Then once she was taught, and tamed enough,
He showed her to his kin,
They nodded with faint approval at
The match that he'd made for him,
They dressed her up in a wedding gown
And mocked, behind her back,
This would-be lady from finishing school,
So open to attack!

They'd beaten her conversation out,
They'd left her feeling small,
He'd tried to speak to her once or twice,
But she couldn't reply at all.
She knew but little or nothing of
The world, or its great affairs,
So sat at the window sewing,
Watched him stray in the woods out there.

The gypsies came in the autumn,
Made their camp at the edge of the wood,
The Lord of Harrington Hall had said:
'Some colour will do us good!
He wandered out to inspect the camp,

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poem by David Lewis Paget
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The Undying One- Canto III

'THERE is a sound the autumn wind doth make
Howling and moaning, listlessly and low:
Methinks that to a heart that ought to break
All the earth's voices seem to murmur so.
The visions that crost
Our path in light--
The things that we lost
In the dim dark night--
The faces for which we vainly yearn--
The voices whose tones will not return--
That low sad wailing breeze doth bring
Borne on its swift and rushing wing.
Have ye sat alone when that wind was loud,
And the moon shone dim from the wintry cloud?
When the fire was quench'd on your lonely hearth,
And the voices were still which spoke of mirth?

If such an evening, tho' but one,
It hath been yours to spend alone--
Never,--though years may roll along
Cheer'd by the merry dance and song;
Though you mark'd not that bleak wind's sound before,
When louder perchance it used to roar--
Never shall sound of that wintry gale
Be aught to you but a voice of wail!
So o'er the careless heart and eye
The storms of the world go sweeping by;
But oh! when once we have learn'd to weep,
Well doth sorrow his stern watch keep.
Let one of our airy joys decay--
Let one of our blossoms fade away--
And all the griefs that others share
Seem ours, as well as theirs, to bear:
And the sound of wail, like that rushing wind
Shall bring all our own deep woe to mind!

'I went through the world, but I paused not now
At the gladsome heart and the joyous brow:
I went through the world, and I stay'd to mark
Where the heart was sore, and the spirit dark:
And the grief of others, though sad to see,
Was fraught with a demon's joy to me!

'I saw the inconstant lover come to take
Farewell of her he loved in better days,
And, coldly careless, watch the heart-strings break--
Which beat so fondly at his words of praise.
She was a faded, painted, guilt-bow'd thing,
Seeking to mock the hues of early spring,
When misery and years had done their worst

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poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Relay

You can hear it in the street, see it in the dragging feet,
You can hear it in the street, see it in the dragging feet,
The word is getting out about control,
The word is getting out about control,
Spies theyve come and gone, the story travels on,
Spies theyve come and gone, the story travels on,
The only quiet place is inside your soul.
The only quiet place is inside your soul.
From tree to tree, from you to me,
From tree to tree, from you to me,
Traveling twice as fast as on any freeway,
Traveling twice as fast as on any freeway,
Every single dream, wrapped up in the scheme,
Every single dream, wrapped up in the scheme,
They all get carried on the relay.
They all get carried on the relay.
Relay, things are brewing,
Relay, things are brewing,
Relay, somethings doing,
Relay, somethings doing,
Relay, theres a revolution,
Relay, theres a revolution,
Relay, relay, hand me down a solution, yeah.
Relay, relay, hand me down a solution, yeah.
Pass it on, come on, a relay.
Pass it on, come on, a relay.
Someone disapproves of what you say and do,
Someone disapproves of what you say and do,
I was asked to see what I could really learn you,
I was asked to see what I could really learn you,
Dont believe your eyes, theyre telling only lies,
Dont believe your eyes, theyre telling only lies,
What is done in the first place dont concern you.
What is done in the first place dont concern you.
]from tree to tree, from you to me,
>from tree to tree, from you to me,
Traveling twice as fast as on any freeway,
Traveling twice as fast as on any freeway,
Every single dream wrapped up in the scheme,
Every single dream wrapped up in the scheme,
They all get carried on the relay.
They all get carried on the relay.
Relay, things are brewing,
Relay, things are brewing,
Relay, somethings doing,
Relay, somethings doing,
Relay, theres a revolution,
Relay, theres a revolution,
Relay, relay, hand me down a solution, yeah.
Relay, relay, hand me down a solution, yeah.

[...] Read more

song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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Old Spookses' Pass

I.
WE'D camped that night on Yaller Bull Flat,--
Thar was Possum Billy, an' Tom, an' me.
Right smart at throwin' a lariat
Was them two fellers, as ever I see;
An' for ridin' a broncho, or argyin' squar
With the devil roll'd up in the hide of a mule,
Them two fellers that camp'd with me thar
Would hev made an' or'nary feller a fool.
II.
Fur argyfyin' in any way,
Thet hed to be argy'd with sinew an' bone,
I never see'd fellers could argy like them;
But just right har I will hev to own
Thet whar brains come in in the game of life,
They held the poorest keerds in the lot;
An' when hands was shown, some other chap
Rak'd in the hull of the blamed old pot!
III.
We was short of hands, the herd was large,
An' watch an' watch we divided the night;
We could hear the coyotes howl an' whine,
But the darned critters kept out of sight
Of the camp-fire blazin'; an' now an' then
Thar cum a rustle an' sort of rush--
A rattle a-sneakin' away from the blaze,
Thro' the rattlin', cracklin' grey sage bush.
IV.
We'd chanc'd that night on a pootyish lot,
With a tol'ble show of tall, sweet grass--
We was takin' Speredo's drove across
The Rockies, by way of "Old Spookses' Pass"--
An' a mite of a creek went crinklin' down,
Like a "pocket" bust in the rocks overhead,
Consid'able shrunk, by the summer drought,
To a silver streak in its gravelly bed.
V.
'Twas a fairish spot fur to camp a' night;
An' chipper I felt, tho' sort of skeer'd
That them two cowboys with only me,
Couldn't boss three thousand head of a herd.
I took the fust of the watch myself;
An' as the red sun down the mountains sprang,
I roll'd a fresh quid, an' got on the back
Of my peart leetle chunk of a tough mustang.
VI.
An' Possum Billy was sleepin' sound
Es only a cowboy knows how to sleep;
An' Tommy's snores would hev made a old
Buffalo bull feel kind o' cheap.

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poem by Isabella Valancy Crawford
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