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Jody

Just to think I had her in my hands
To think we made our plans
Somehow it feels just like a dream
For I played it so darn cool
Is there a bigger fool
To say I wanted to be free
cause now I know just what she meant to me
Jody, even the wind says your name, girl
When I think of you Im aflame, girl, everytime
Jody, girl Ive tried but I cant forget
The years when we lived together
I thought it would be forever
Jody, Im beggin now
Look around but theres no way out
Whats it all about
And how that name goes round my head
I still see her face as she laid upon this bed
Jody, even the wind says your name, girl
When I think of you Im aflame, girl, everytime
Jody, girl Ive tried but I cant forget

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song performed by America
Added by Lucian Velea
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Flames

Every man is a flame
God the hands that lights us
Satan the lips that blow the wind that seeks to quench us
Our destiny
To stay aflame

We are all flames
Though from different races
Our mission
To ensure that in our desire
To stay flames
We keep as many flames aflame

Together as flames
Our vision burns brighter
Our mission clearer
And the lips that blow the wind
Will only spread us
Never quench us

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poem by Onyeka Omenye
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La Gitana

Your hair was full of roses in the dewfall as we danced,
The sorceress enchanting and the paladin entranced,
In the starlight as we wove us in a web of silk and steel
Immemorial as the marble in the halls of Boabdil,
In the pleasuance of the roses with the fountains and the yews
Where the snowy Sierra soothed us with the breezes and the dews!
In the starlight as we trembled from a laugh to a caress,
And the God came warm upon us in our pagan allegresse.
Was the Baile de la Bona too seductive? Did you feel
Through the silence and the softness all the tension of the steel?
For your hair was full of roses, and my flesh was full of thorns,
And the midnight came upon us worth a million crazy morns.
Ah! my Gipsy, my Gitana, my Saliya! were you fain
For the dance to turn to earnest? - O the sunny land of Spain!
My Gitana, my Saliya! more delicious than a dove!
With your hair aflame with roses and your lips alight with love!
Shall I see you, shall I kiss you once again? I wander far
From the sunny land of summer to the icy Polar Star.
I shall find you, I shall have you! I am coming back again
From the filth and fog to seek you in the sunny land of Spain.

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poem by Aleister Crowley
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I Apprehend You...

I apprehend You. The years pass by -
Yet in constant form, I apprehend You.

The whole horizon is aflame - impossibly sharp,
And mute, I wait, - with longing and with love.

The whole horizon is aflame, and your appearance near.
And yet I fear that You will change your form,

Give rise to impudent suspicion
By changing Your familiar contours in the end.

Oh, how I'll fall - so low and bitter,
Defeated by my fatal dreams!

How sharp is the horizon! Radiance is near.
And yet I fear that You will change your form.

poem by Aleksandr Aleksandrovich Blok
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Awake! Awake!

``Awake, awake, for the Springtime's sake,
March daffodils too long dreaming;
The lark is high in the spacious sky
And the celandine's stars are gleaming.
The gorse is ablaze, and the woodland sprays
Are as purple as August heather,
The buds unfurl, and mavis and merle
Are singing duets together.

``The rivulets run, first one by one,
Then meet in the swirling river,
And on out-peeping roots the sun-god shoots
The shafts of his golden quiver.
In the hazel copse the thrush never stops
Till with music the world seems ringing,
And the milkmaid hale, as she carries her pail,
Goes home to the dairy, singing:

``And the swain and his sweet in the love-lanes meet,
And welcome and face each other,

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poem by Alfred Austin
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Caesar Redivivus

In the olive groves of Italy
Men minds are all aflame;
For the war-lust spreads thro' Italy,
Where war-lords call the game.
And they dream of Roman legions
And the glory that was Rome's;
Yet reck not of the misery
That stalks Italian homes.

By the vine-clad hills of Italy
Men talk and dream of war;
Of the triumphs that were Caesar's,
And the glories known of yore.
But a mockery of triumph,
And an end to dreaming vain
Comes to victor, as to vanquichsed,
With a counting of the slain.

Oh, the women-folk of Italy,
They give their sons to Mars;

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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Firefly's Fascination

On the flight of the moon to aflame the night,
A firefly's looking up to the light he much adored,
Seem a light of a firefly that he's longing for.

Her brilliant dancing fire,
The endless flashes of light,
Her dazzling face he desire
It was so bright,
so bright.

All he did by night was to look above
He never let his light fade just awhile,
He hopes to be noticed by her love,
Just see his light, then shine and smile.

The luminous rays of the skies,
The beautiful stars at night,
Her shining diamond eyes
It was so bright,
so bright.

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poem by Raymond Cabrera
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Burst Of Fire

Oh, for that burst of fire,
within a ring of feeling, the
fire of love consummate

For the overpowering desire,
the desire for fire, the living
feeling like a being alive

Seizing, overpowering its victim,
unifying all rivulets of desire in a
flaming quagmire, burning alive

Inflamed in an all-consuming, over-
powering desire, torturing, tortuous,
delightful, delicious, destruction of

All restraint, instinctual seizure,
instincts alive in burning desire,
aflame, alight, lighted, lightning

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poem by Louise Tredoux
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Ojistoh

I am Ojistoh, I am she, the wife
Of him whose name breathes bravery and life
And courage to the tribe that calls him chief.
I am Ojistoh, his white star, and he
Is land, and lake, and sky--and soul to me.

Ah! but they hated him, those Huron braves,
Him who had flung their warriors into graves,
Him who had crushed them underneath his heel
Whose arm was iron, and whose heart was steel
To all--save me, Ojistoh, chosen wife
Of my great Mohawk, white star of his life.

Ah! but they hated him, and councilled long
With subtle witchcraft how to work him wrong;
How to avenge their dead, and strike him where
His pride was highest, and his fame most fair.
Their hearts grew weak as women at his name:
They dared no war-path since my Mohawk came
With ashen bow, and flinten arrow-head

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poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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That Old Black Magic

That old black magic has me in its spell
That old black magic that you weave so well
Icy fingers up
And down my spine
The same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine
The same old tingle that I feel
Inside
When that elevator starts its ride
Down and down I go, round and round I go
Like a leaf thats
Caught in the tide
I should stay away but what can I do
I hear your name, and Im aflame
Aflame with
Such a burning desire
That only your kiss can put out the fire
You are the lover that Ive waited for
The mate that fate had me created for
And every time your lips meet mine
Baby down and down I go,

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song performed by Ella Fitzgerald
Added by Lucian Velea
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