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Paper Mache, Cabbages Kings

Na na na na na na na na na
Paper mache and telegraph poles
Things go dead in the night
Make enough noise to make enough noise
To make you want to jump with fright
Elephants tusks and autograph books ,people you dont meet
Havent got a bed to lay my head , shoes to fit my feet
Dont be scared
Youre better off then nothing
Youre answering to no one
Paper mache
Paper mache and telegraph poles
Thing go dead in the night
Make enough noise to make enough noise
To make you want to jump with fright
Elephants tusks and autograph books, people you dont meet
Havent got a bed to lay my head, shoes to fit my feet
Dont be scared
Youre better off then nothing
Youre answering to no one

[...] Read more

song performed by Bee Gees
Added by Lucian Velea
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Paper Mache, Cabbages & Kings

Na na na na na na na na na
Paper mache and telegraph poles
Things go dead in the night
Make enough noise to make enough noise
To make you want to jump with fright
Elephant's tusks and autograph books ,people you don't meet
Haven't got a bed to lay my head , shoes to fit my feet
Don't be scared
You're better off then nothing
You're answering to no one
Paper mache
Paper mache and telegraph poles
Thing go dead in the night
Make enough noise to make enough noise
To make you want to jump with fright
Elephant's tusks and autograph books, people you don't meet
Haven't got a bed to lay my head, shoes to fit my feet
Don't be scared
You're better off then nothing
You're answering to no one

[...] Read more

song performed by Bee Gees
Added by Lucian Velea
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Les malades

Pâles, nerveux et seuls, les tragiques malades
Vivent avec leurs maux. Ils regardent le soir
Se faire dans leur chambre et grandir les façades.
Une église près d'eux lève son clocher noir,

Heure morte, là-bas, quelque part, en province,
En des quartiers perdus, au fond d'un clos désert,
Où s'endeuillent les murs et les porches dont grince
Le gond monumental, ainsi qu'un poing de fer.

Pâles et seuls les malades hiératiques,
Pareils à de vieux loups mornes, flairent la mort ;
Ils ont mâché la vie et ses jours identiques
Et ses mois et ses ans et leur haine et leur sort.

Mais aujourd'hui, barricadés dans le cynisme
De leur dégoût, ils ont l'esprit inquiété :
' Si le bonheur régnait dans ce mâle égoïsme :
' Souffrir pour soi, tout seul, mais par sa volonté ?

[...] Read more

poem by Emile Verhaeren
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The Great Chinese Dragon

The great Chinese dragon which is the greatest dragon in all the
world and which once upon a time was towed across the
Pacific by a crew of coolies rowing in an open boat—was
the first real live dragon ever actually to reach these shores

And the great Chinese dragon passing thru the Golden Gate
spouting streams of water like a string of fireboats then broke
loose somewhere near China Camp gulped down a hundred
Chinese seamen and forthwith ate all the shrimp in San Francisco Bay

And the great Chinese dragon was therefore forever after confined
in a Chinatown basement and ever since allowed out only for
Chinese New Year’s parades and other Unamerican demonstrations
paternally watched-over by those benevolent men in
blue who represent our more advanced civilization which has
reached such a high state of democracy as to allow even a
few barbarians to carry on their quaint native customs in our midst

And thus the great Chinese dragon which is the greatest dragon
in all the world now can only be seen creeping out of an

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
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Artists aren't really people. And I'm actually 40 per cent papier mache.

quote by Steven Morrissey
Added by Lucian Velea
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Paper Mache Bull's Horns

images screaming ghosts
paper mache bull's horns
tearing apart peace dreams

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Whoever eats anything at a wedding luncheon? They make the food out of papier mache. My salad had been used four or five times this week.

quote by Peter Ruric
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Puppeteer Dies

the puppeteer dies
and black sunrise
a single tear falls to her breast
white on white
bonjour tristesse

her fallen hero
twisted strings

their staring eyes
and no bird sings

that day he died
released the world from all it's strings

and under papier-mache skies
with crimsoned cheeks
and wild wide eyes
they did their burn-out promenade

[...] Read more

poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Like Cigarettes

...Her complexity still lures suitors;
She goes through men like cigarettes
Savoring each puff
until her personality has burned them up
As if she was the Sun itself, and they,
like Icarus, got too close.
When she's done with them she smashes them
Along with their paper-mache self-images
Into an ashtray with a single destructive finger
Or flicks them onto the ground
...Or even shorts them,
and sets them aside somewhere
To finish later...
Always with the cool,
predatory, and mysterious
calm composure of
A real Lioness...

poem by Ray Quesada
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Not Ideas About the Thing But the Thing Itself

At the earliest ending of winter,
In March, a scrawny cry from outside
Seemed like a sound in his mind.

He knew that he heard it,
A bird's cry, at daylight or before,
In the early March wind.

The sun was rising at six,
No longer a battered panache above snow...
It would have been outside.

It was not from the vast ventriloquism
Of sleep's faded papier-mache...
The sun was coming from the outside.

That scrawny cry--It was
A chorister whose c preceded the choir.
It was part of the colossal sun,

[...] Read more

poem by Wallace Stevens
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