Quotes about grimy, page 11
Her Portrait
Oh, but the heavenly grammar did I hold
Of that high speech which angels' tongues turn gold!
So should her deathless beauty take no wrong,
Praised in her own great kindred's fit and cognate tongue.
Or if that language yet with us abode.
Which Adam in the garden talked with God!
But our untempered speech descends--poor heirs!
Grimy and rough-cast still from Babel's bricklayers:
Curse on the brutish jargon we inherit,
Strong but to damn, not memorise, a spirit!
A cheek, a lip, a limb, a bosom, they
Move with light ease in speech of working-day;
And women we do use to praise even so.
But here the gates we burst, and to the temple go.
Their praise were her dispraise; who dare, who dare,
Adulate the seraphim for their burning hair?
How, if with them I dared, here should I dare it?
How praise the woman, who but know the spirit?
How praise the colour of her eyes, uncaught
While they were coloured with her varying thought
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poem by Francis Thompson
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The Night Watch
Shine, shine, the light of good works shine
The watch before the city gates depicted in their prime
That golden light all grimy now
Three hundred years have passed
The worthy captain and his squad of troopers standing fast
The artist knew their faces well
The husbands of his lady friends
His creditors and councillors
In armour bright, the merchant men
Official moments of the guild
In poses keen from bygone days
The city fathers frozen there
Upon the canvas dark with age
The smell of paint, a flask of wine
And turn those faces all to me
The blunderbuss and halberd-shaft
And dutch respectability
They make their entrance one by one
Defenders of that way of life
The redbrick home, the bourgeoisie
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song performed by King Crimson
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Nightwatch
Shine, shine, the light of good works shine
The watch before the city gates depicted in their prime
That golden light all grimy now
Three hundred years have passed
The worthy Captain and his squad of troopers standing fast
The artist knew their faces well
The husbands of his lady friends
His creditors and councillors
In armour bright, the merchant men
Official moments of the guild
In poses keen from bygone days
The city fathers frozen there
Upon the canvas dark with age
The smell of paint, a flask of wine
And turn those faces all to me
The blunderbuss and halberd-shaft
And Dutch respectability
They make their entrance one by one
Defenders of that way of life
The redbrick home, the bourgeoisie
[...] Read more
song performed by King Crimson
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dragontown
Well Here you are
lying bleeding on a grimy street
see the broken glass
sparkling darkly as it cuts your feet
smell the rotting stench
the rancid odor of ocantonese
feel the toxic flames
all around you
you can hardly breathe
come with me
Come on
Iv'e got something to show you
come on
you thought that it was over
come on
your really gonna like this
come on
come on
come on
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song performed by Alice Cooper from Dragontown
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Disco Inferno
[Hook x2]
Little mama show me how you move it
better yet put ya back into it
Do ya thang like there aint nothin to it
Shake..
sh..sh..shake that ass girl.
[Verse 1]
Go Go Go
Fifty in the house- bounce, y'all already know what I'm about.
The flow sounds sick over Dre' drums n*gga, I ain't
stupid- I see Doc and my dope come quicker.
Whoa! Shorty' hips is hypnotic, she moves is so erotic, but watch
I'ma watch her bounce that assss girl.
I get it crunk in here, I make it jump in here, front in here, we'll thump in here. Oooohh.
I'm so gutter, so ghetto, so hood. So gully, so grimy, what's good?
Outside, the Benz on dubs
I'm in the club wit da snub - don't start nothin', it won't be nothin'. Uuuhhh.
[Hook x2]
Little mama show me how you move it
better yet put ya back into it
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song performed by 50 Cent
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The Birth Of Rain
Drifting on a drab Sunday in Perth among the ashtrays and leftover sublimities of the church bells. My studio window above the rooftops a smear of willow and wet pine undulating gently in the stillness that followed the rain. Wolves on the easel, waiting to pay the rent. May of the fifth year into the twenty-first century, fifty-six, I sit in a blizzard of tobacco crumbs because I'm too poor to buy tailor-mades, coughing at the computer, wiping small drops of water like pygmy tears from the Cyclopean eye of the screen that glows with the same effulgence as the dirty sheet of the sky. The main migrations are over, but maybe these words are rosaries of late-returning birds. Two anthracite, boat-tailed grackles on a branch just beyond the grimy glass and a gust of sparrows chirrup like squeaky alternator-belts, manically elated in the wake of the storm that has just passed. My freedoms are more sober, my resurgencies probably less profound than the gray roses I give birth to here at my desk, waiting for one of these terminal urgencies of insight to sway me like a bell.
Maybe Louise later today with her Cola and cassettes, and her rough, voluptuous, laughing humanity scorning the random acids of the vulgar world that schools her, a muse who doesn't take requests, a generous longing that's been through a lot. So I sublimate the root-fires of my leafless batons into an auto-de-fe of white canes tired of trying to tap their way through a maze of sexual creeds, blind. The result? A novel and dozens of poems apples above the worms. And I keep her cats, Morgan and Rain, mother and kitten almost fully grown. There are no humans Louise loves more.
The kitten was born beside me on the couch at one-thirty in the morning while Louise was in the hospital and I read La Mettrie, d'Holbach, Diderot, d'Alembert, Voltaire, Rousseau and Helvetius, eighteenth century French les philosophes. Two days ago, remembering, she asked me to write a poem to celebrate the birth. And it's two hundred and fifteen years since the French revolution went into convulsions and mothered daggers out of its wounds, and we are neither free, nor equal, nor brothers, and the birth of Rain, by association, is only the smallest of iota subscripts below the voluminous pretext of that slaughter, hardly, if at all, a mote that matters; but in a way she was born while the peasants stormed the Bastille, and time sent corpses and ideas floating facedown on one of its more famous rivers of blood all the way to the embryonic comma of this tender, contrary event. And there was honour in being a witness when Morgan jumped up beside me
and lay her head upon my right arm as a pillow, the great red text
with ivory pages open to the public like the Vatican before me
as the soft, gray satchel of her body shuddered with the natal lightning
of a different storm, the quickening eruptions of a different riddle
than the one that dropped its answer like a blade
on the necks of the cropped carnations as I kept on reading, thinking
to run for a towel before deciding not to disturb her,
that a little blood on the couch wouldn't hurt anything
compared to the streams of gore that caked the pages of my book.
And there was a humility in the act of watching, and a trust,
as if a great secret were demanding something of her
she was willing to go through hell to give. And my heart
laboured with her like a sympathetic strawberry, convinced of a miracle,
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poem by Patrick White
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Phat ('N' All Dat)
(phat phat..)
Chorus: onyx
Phat, phat; pha-da-dah-da-dah, da-dah-dah-di-dah
Were phat n alla dat!
Phat, phat; pha-da-dah-da-dah, da-dah-dah-di-dah
Were phat n alla dat!
[fredro starr]
Its the phat funky blunt roller, the rock flipper
Proof Ive been right, damn right, the gun gripper
Look, no hands but damn, ooh I got a handle
Vandalistic, sarcastic phat tricks
Aah, ohh yeah, dear dime a dozen
Den discuss em when I be bustin with my crews, and crimies
How ya like dat?phat da-dat da dah-dah, huh
Rat-a-tat, splatter one, jump in the vat son
Flat as a blue bag of boom for ya buddha benders
I know youre breakin on the phat tracks were makin
So sonee seeza, youre next up to bat
Phat-a-tat-tat stay strapped, be so phat!
Chorus
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song performed by Onyx
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Phat
(phat phat..)
Chorus: onyx
Phat, phat; pha-da-dah-da-dah, da-dah-dah-di-dah
We're phat 'n' alla dat!
Phat, phat; pha-da-dah-da-dah, da-dah-dah-di-dah
We're phat 'n' alla dat!
[fredro starr]
It's the phat funky blunt roller, the rock flipper
Proof i've been right, damn right, the gun gripper
Look, no hands but damn, ooh i got a handle
Vandalistic, sarcastic phat tricks
Aah, ohh yeah, dear dime a dozen
Den discuss 'em when i be bustin with my crews, and crimies
How ya like dat? phat da-dat da dah-dah, huh
Rat-a-tat, splatter one, jump in the vat son
Flat as a blue bag of boom for ya buddha benders
I know you're breakin on the phat tracks we're makin
So sonee seeza, you're next up to bat
Phat-a-tat-tat stay strapped, be so phat!
Chorus
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song performed by Onyx
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Number One Spot
[Ludacris - imitating Austin Powers]
Yeahhhh baby, heh heh, yeahh!
[Ludacris]
Back again (that's right) Luda! Ha ha ha ha (Feel this)
It gets meaner and meaner each time baby
Feelin real good too (holla at 'em man) What up Uncle 'Face! (Yeah)
I'm a bull in this industry man (tell 'em)
Some would rather run down and get one cow (nah)
I think I'd rather walk down and get 'em all
You know what I'm talkin 'bout right? Look
[Verse 1]
I'm never goin nowhere so don't try me
My music sticks in fans veins like an IV
Flows poison like Ivy, oh they grimy
Already offers on my 6th album from labels tryin to sign me
Respected highly, HIIII MR. O'REILLY
Hope all is well, kiss the plantiff and the wifey
Drove through the window, the industry super sized me
Now the girls see me and a river's what they cry me
I'm on the rise, so many people despise me
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song performed by Ludacris
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Hold Up
feat. Havoc (Mobb Deep)
[talking]
Yeah nigga... haha yeah (South Suicide Queens)
That's right... uh uh, Q.U. nigga (yea yea)
Shit like that, knowhamsayin put these drinks up
yaheard? - let's do this right, what yo
[Fredro Starr]
Hold up, this is for my thugs on the block
For my one stop niggaz that be huggin the spot
Sittin on crates, gettin loaded, get that cake
Dodgin drinks, spit and hafta cover they face
Kick some tye, big truck with tricks inside
In too deep, tryna sell bricks from the side
See no games, with real niggaz from other hoods
Car titles get lost, some niggaz get jooked
But God forgive me if a nigga cross the fam
Holdin the heat, the streets'll make me force ya hand
From my wild crew, sets the new guns off the roof
To them slick dudes, hot and they workin the phone booth
Cuz Lord knows I'm gonna reload and bust back
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song performed by Onyx
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