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The unconscious self is the real genius. Your breathing goes wrong the moment your conscious self meddles with it.

George Bernard Shaw in Man and Superman (1903)
Added by Lucian Velea
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U R Wrong

u were wrong... so wrong.. uh uh uh huh uh.
u were wrong dead wrong.. uh uh uh whoaaaaaaa
Girl U R said your wrong wrong said your wrong wrong
Girl U R said your wrong wrong said your wrong wrong
verse1: can i take you back to happy times..
oh oh oh uh oh
everyday was paradise.. dinner and candle lights
oh oh oh uh oh
i never thought you'd change i didn't expect no games
i wanted you to bare my child i wanted you to have my last name
now we was right we was wrong
i really don't care cuz i gotta move one
i'm gone be a man about it
the headache i can live without it
chorus: Girl (you act so shady) U (spend all of my paper R ( one heck of a lady) said ur wrong wrong said ur wrong wrong
Girl ( i don't codone it ) U ( and you can't erase it) R (one heck of a lady) said ur wrong wrong said your wrong wrong
Girl ( u tired to play) U (had a house and a baby) R ( one heck of a lady) said ur wrong wrong said ur wrong wrong
Girl ( u were wrong ) u( so wrong ) R (dead wrong said your wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong.
verse2: now i admit sometime i make mistakes..
oh oh oh mmmhmmmm
the responsibility of this household was your to take
"well"
i gave you the keys to the range.. broke you off a lil bit of change
ain't no need to explain.. your gonna miss a good thang
and when it's gone away i ain't got time to play
women you had a chance a chance to stay baby baby
chorus: Girl (you act so shady) U (spend all of my paper R ( one heck of a lady) said ur wrong wrong said ur wrong wrong
Girl ( i don't codone it ) U ( and you can't erase it) R (one heck of a lady) said ur wrong wrong said your wrong wrong
Girl ( u tired to play) U (had a house and a baby) R ( one heck of a lady) said ur wrong wrong said ur wrong wrong
Girl ( u were wrong ) u( so wrong ) R (dead wrong said your wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong.
i picked you up when you were down( when your luck ran out.. baby yes i did)
i took you in when theyput you out ( do you remember that cold monday morning?)
i treated you kids like they was mine( i ain't even they real damn daddynononnono )
when you were dim i made you shine( i was the diamond in your life baby)
chorus: Girl ( girl) u (u) R ( are) wrong wrong wrong wrong
Girl ( girl) u (u) R ( are) wrong wrong wrong wrong
Girl ( girl) u (u) R ( are) wrong wrong wrong wrong
Girl ( girl) u (u) R ( are) wrong wrong wrong wrong
can i break it down fora mineut baby
tell you.. why your wrong
you were wrong staying out all night
coming in sloppy drunk baby
and you were wrong for letting your friend direct your mind
and you were wrong for running up my credit card
and you were wrong for everything you've done to me.
(chorus)
ain't no explination this time.

song performed by 3pc
Added by Lucian Velea
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GENIUS IN FRANCE

I'm not the brightest crayon in the box
Everyone says I'm dumber than a bag of rocks
I barely even know how to put on my own pants
But I'm a genius in France (yeah), genius in France, genius in France
Hoom chaka laka hoom chaka laka hoom chaka
I may not be the sharpest hunk of cheese
I got a negative number on my SATS
I'm not good looking, and I don't know how to dance
But nevertheless and in spite of the evidence I am still widely considered to be a
Genius in France, genius in France, genius in France
People say I'm a geek, a moronic little freak
An annoying pipsqueak with an unfortunate physique
If I was any dumber, they'd have to water me twice a week
But when the Mademoiselles see me, they all swoon and shriek
They dig my mystique, they think I'm c'est magnifique
When I'm in Par-ee, I'm the chic-est of the chic
They love my body odor and my bad toupee
They love my stripey shirt and my stupid beret
And when I'm sipping on a Perrier
In some caf down in St. Tropez
It's hard to keep the fans at bay
They say, "Sign my poodle, s'il vous plat"
"Sign my poodle, s'il vous plat"
Hemenene humenene himenene homenene
Poodle... poodle...
Folks in my hometown think I'm a fool
Got too much chlorine in my gene pool
A few peas short of a casserole
A few buttons missing on my remote control
A few fries short of a happy meal
I couldn't pour water out of a boot with instructions on the heel
Instructions on the heel
But when I'm in Provence, I get free croissants *Bela bark*
Yeah, I'm the guy every French lady wants
And if you ask 'em why, you're bound to get this response:
(He's a genius in France! Genius in France!) That's right!
(He's a genius in France! Genius in France!) You know it!
(He's a genius in France, genius in France, genius in France!)
I'm not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree
But the folks in France, they don't seem to agree
They say, "Bonjour, Monsieur, would you take ze picture with me?"
I say, "Oui oui"
That's right, I say, "Oui oui"
"Oui oui"
He says, "Oui oui"
I'm dumber than a box of hair
But those Frenchies don't seem to care
Don't know why, mon frre
But they love me there
I'm a genius in France

[...] Read more

song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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Life's A Genius

Life's a genius.
Not a mediocrity
looking for reasons to live in the morning.
Life's not a plan.
It's a spirit that doesn't need one
whether things go right or wrong.
Life is light and water.
It delights in going everywhere at once.
Mediocrities have genius
but they don't know how
to play with it like a child.
Their eyes peek
through knotholes in the fence
but they sacrifice their longing
on the conventional altars of common-sense
and never throw the ball back over the hills
like the moon coming up
or the sun going down
without worrying about
breaking the neighbours'windows.
Life throws whole mountains around
and turns the cornerstones into quicksand
and goes down with Atlantis
only to come up again like Moby Dick
spewing stars out of its blowhole.
Mediocrity has its feet planted firmly on the ground.
It never goes anywhere it hasn't gone before.
It's the kind of fire
that sleeps with an extinquisher
in case things get too hot to put out.
Mediocrity shares.
But life's the kind of genius
that gives like an apple-tree
that fully expresses itself
through infinitely more
than four seasons
no two alike
without caring if it's of any benefit to anyone.
Mediocrity's stunned by the blossoms.
Genius tastes the fruit.
Life's the kind of fire
that doesn't have a root
you can pull up and take home with you
to add to your garden
like a new word to your vocabulary.
Mediocrity spells it out.
But genius is the dream grammar
of a spiritual alphabet
that isn't used to taking orders.
It doesn't have twenty-six words for inspiration

[...] Read more

poem by Patrick White
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The Four Seasons : Autumn

Crown'd with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf,
While Autumn, nodding o'er the yellow plain,
Comes jovial on; the Doric reed once more,
Well pleased, I tune. Whate'er the wintry frost
Nitrous prepared; the various blossom'd Spring
Put in white promise forth; and Summer-suns
Concocted strong, rush boundless now to view,
Full, perfect all, and swell my glorious theme.
Onslow! the Muse, ambitious of thy name,
To grace, inspire, and dignify her song,
Would from the public voice thy gentle ear
A while engage. Thy noble cares she knows,
The patriot virtues that distend thy thought,
Spread on thy front, and in thy bosom glow;
While listening senates hang upon thy tongue,
Devolving through the maze of eloquence
A roll of periods, sweeter than her song.
But she too pants for public virtue, she,
Though weak of power, yet strong in ardent will,
Whene'er her country rushes on her heart,
Assumes a bolder note, and fondly tries
To mix the patriot's with the poet's flame.
When the bright Virgin gives the beauteous days,
And Libra weighs in equal scales the year;
From Heaven's high cope the fierce effulgence shook
Of parting Summer, a serener blue,
With golden light enliven'd, wide invests
The happy world. Attemper'd suns arise,
Sweet-beam'd, and shedding oft through lucid clouds
A pleasing calm; while broad, and brown, below
Extensive harvests hang the heavy head.
Rich, silent, deep, they stand; for not a gale
Rolls its light billows o'er the bending plain:
A calm of plenty! till the ruffled air
Falls from its poise, and gives the breeze to blow.
Rent is the fleecy mantle of the sky;
The clouds fly different; and the sudden sun
By fits effulgent gilds the illumined field,
And black by fits the shadows sweep along.
A gaily chequer'd heart-expanding view,
Far as the circling eye can shoot around,
Unbounded tossing in a flood of corn.
These are thy blessings, Industry! rough power!
Whom labour still attends, and sweat, and pain;
Yet the kind source of every gentle art,
And all the soft civility of life:
Raiser of human kind! by Nature cast,
Naked, and helpless, out amid the woods
And wilds, to rude inclement elements;
With various seeds of art deep in the mind

[...] Read more

poem by James Thomson
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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

[...] Read more

poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Rosciad

Unknowing and unknown, the hardy Muse
Boldly defies all mean and partial views;
With honest freedom plays the critic's part,
And praises, as she censures, from the heart.

Roscius deceased, each high aspiring player
Push'd all his interest for the vacant chair.
The buskin'd heroes of the mimic stage
No longer whine in love, and rant in rage;
The monarch quits his throne, and condescends
Humbly to court the favour of his friends;
For pity's sake tells undeserved mishaps,
And, their applause to gain, recounts his claps.
Thus the victorious chiefs of ancient Rome,
To win the mob, a suppliant's form assume;
In pompous strain fight o'er the extinguish'd war,
And show where honour bled in every scar.
But though bare merit might in Rome appear
The strongest plea for favour, 'tis not here;
We form our judgment in another way;
And they will best succeed, who best can pay:
Those who would gain the votes of British tribes,
Must add to force of merit, force of bribes.
What can an actor give? In every age
Cash hath been rudely banish'd from the stage;
Monarchs themselves, to grief of every player,
Appear as often as their image there:
They can't, like candidate for other seat,
Pour seas of wine, and mountains raise of meat.
Wine! they could bribe you with the world as soon,
And of 'Roast Beef,' they only know the tune:
But what they have they give; could Clive do more,
Though for each million he had brought home four?
Shuter keeps open house at Southwark fair,
And hopes the friends of humour will be there;
In Smithfield, Yates prepares the rival treat
For those who laughter love, instead of meat;
Foote, at Old House,--for even Foote will be,
In self-conceit, an actor,--bribes with tea;
Which Wilkinson at second-hand receives,
And at the New, pours water on the leaves.
The town divided, each runs several ways,
As passion, humour, interest, party sways.
Things of no moment, colour of the hair,
Shape of a leg, complexion brown or fair,
A dress well chosen, or a patch misplaced,
Conciliate favour, or create distaste.
From galleries loud peals of laughter roll,
And thunder Shuter's praises; he's so droll.
Embox'd, the ladies must have something smart,

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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Right The Wrong

An indian woman buried her grampa in the black hills
When she was young he used to tell her
That these hills belonged to her still
And even though injustice took them hills away
One day well get them back, he said
And the suns gonna shine that day
When we say, right the wrong
Before she laid him down to rest
She heard his voice in the wilderness
Sayin I got six feet of it back
And now we can right the wrong
Right the wrong
Hear the song
Before long u wont hear nothin but the crackle of flames
Right the wrong
Hear the song
Would u rather die knowing that u did or keep living in shame
Did you hear the one about the boy just 17
Three years hard time for stealing ice cream
First offence and all his dreams are gone
How long before they right the wrong?
Right the wrong
Hear the song
Before long u wont hear nothin but the crackle of flames
Right the wrong
Hear the song
Would u rather die knowing that u did or keep living in shame
Right the wrong
2, 3, uh
1, 2, 1-2, come on
(right the wrong baby)
Far be it from me to say
It seem like we could stop the flow of snow in the sky today
But I guess the weather man he likes the rain
Aint that insane
Now sing
Right the wrong
Hear the song
Before long u wont hear nothin but the crackle of flames
Right the wrong
Hear the song
Would u rather die knowing that u did or keep living in shame?
(come on, come on, come on)
Did you hear me baby?
Right the wrong
Im 6 feet in the grave
Im 6 feet in the grave
(right right, right right)
(right the wrong right the wrong)
(right the wrong right the wrong)

[...] Read more

song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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Breathing

Outside
Gets inside
Through her skin.
Ive been out before
But this time its much safer in.
Last night in the sky,
Such a bright light.
My radar send me danger
But my instincts tell me to keep
Breathing,
(out, in, out, in, out, in...)
Breathing,
Breathing my mother in,
Breathing my beloved in,
Breathing,
Breathing her nicotine,
Breathing,
Breathing the fall-out in,
Out in, out in, out in, out in.
Weve lost our chance.
Were the first and the last, ooh,
After the blast.
Chips of plutonium
Are twinkling in every lung.
I love my
Beloved, ooh,
All and everywhere,
Only the fools blew it.
You and me
Knew life itself is
Breathing,
(out, in, out, in, out...)
Breathing,
Breathing my mother in,
Breathing my beloved in,
Breathing,
Breathing her nicotine,
Breathing,
Breathing the fall-out in,
Out in, out in, out in, out in,
Out in, out in, out in, out...
(out!)
In point of fact it is possible to tell the
(out!)
Difference between a small nuclear explosion and
A large one by a very simple method. the calling
Card of a nuclear bomb is the blinding flash that
Is far more dazzling than any light on earth--brighter
Even than the sun itself--and it is by the duration
Of this flash that we are able to determine the size

[...] Read more

song performed by Kate Bush
Added by Lucian Velea
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[9] O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!

O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
[LOVE POEMS]

POET: MAHENDRA BHATNAGAR

POEMS

1 Passion And Compassion / 1
2 Affection
3 Willing To Live
4 Passion And Compassion / 2
5 Boon
6 Remembrance
7 Pretext
8 To A Distant Person
9 Perception
10 Conclusion
10 You (1)
11 Symbol
12 You (2)
13 In Vain
14 One Night
15 Suddenly
16 Meeting
17 Touch
18 Face To Face
19 Co-Traveller
20 Once And Once only
21 Touchstone
22 In Chorus
23 Good Omens
24 Even Then
25 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (1)
26 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (2)
27 Life Aspirant
28 To The Condemned Woman
29 A Submission
30 At Midday
31 I Accept
32 Who Are You?
33 Solicitation
34 Accept Me
35 Again After Ages …
36 Day-Dreaming
37 Who Are You?
38 You Embellished In Song

[...] Read more

poem by Mahendra Bhatnagar
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Its Wrong Apartheid

The wretchedness of satans wrath
Will come to seize you at last
cause even he frowns upon the deeds you are doing
And you know deep in your heart
Youve no covenant with god
cause he would never countenance people abusing
You know apartheids wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Like slavery was wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Like the holocaust was wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Apartheid is wrong (qha), wrong (qha), wrong
Its wrong (qha), wrong (qha), wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Wrong (qha), wrong (qha), wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
The pain you cause in gods name
Points only to yourself to blame
For the negative karma you will be receiving
cause when people are oppressed
With atrocities that test
The future of all mankind we, the world wont stand seeing
You know apartheids wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Like slavery was wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Like the holocaust was wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Apartheid is wrong (qha), its wrong (qha), wrong
Its wrong (qha), its wrong (qha), wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Wrong (qha), wrong (qha), wrong (qha), wrong (qha)
Ubuqaba babo bucacile
Woqamba kuze kucace
Ngoba nosathane uyabugxeka
Lobuqaba
Oh, freedom is coming
(inkululeko iyeza)
Say it again
(inkululeko iyeza)
Hold on tight, its coming
(qinisani inkululeko iyeza)
(inkululeko iyeza)
Oh, the whole world is with us
(qinisani umhlaba wonke unathi)
Say it again
(umhlaba wonke unathi)
Hold on tight, cause were with you
(qinisani umhlaba wonke unathi)
(umhlaba wonke unathi)
Oh, oh, oh, freedom is coming, yeah, yeah, yeah,
(qinisani inkululeko iyeza)
(inkululeko iyeza)
Hold on tight, yeah
(qinisani inkululeko iyeza)
Freedom is coming
(inkululeko iyeza)
Hold on tight

[...] Read more

song performed by Stevie Wonder
Added by Lucian Velea
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There Is Something Really Wrong About That

There's something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
There is something really wrong about that!
They're not based in truth of action.
Something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
Absent is the truth of action.
Nothing is said about that.

There is something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
There's something really wrong about that!
They're not based in truth of action.
Something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
Absent is the truth of action.
Nothing is said about that.

Truth has been manipulated.
Something is wrong about that!

And people now themselves they hate.
Something is wrong about that!

Racism is the indicator.
Something is wrong about that!

And how one lives is too debated.
Something is wrong about that!

There is something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
There's something really wrong about that!
They're not based in truth of action.
Something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.
Absent is the truth of action.
Nothing is said about that.

We've all been underestimated.
Something is wrong about that!
The thoughts of people are degraded.
Something is wrong about that!
Deceivers seem too much elated.
Something is wrong about that!
And truth for us has been created...
With an ease that's made..

Oh there's something really wrong about that!
Those facts you ration.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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Is She Conscious

Is she conscious
Is she really wide awake?
Is she conscious
Of her beaatiful mistake?
Is she conscious
As she moves among the crowd?
Shes got thw world upon a piece of string
Shes got thw world upon a piece of string
Its so
He was ugly and she was beautiful
He was ugly and she was so
Is she conscious
Is she asleep or just afloat?
Is she conscious
Of the letter that she wrote?
Is she conscious
Of the music in her ears?
The queen of sheba could have shined her shoes
The queen of sheba could have shined her shoes
Its so
He was ugly and she was beautiful
He was ugly and she was so
Is she conscious
As she moves across the room?
Is she conscious
Of the weeping of the moon?
Is she conscious
As she leaves the door ajar?
Is she conscious
As she gets into the car?
I dont even wanna say her name
I dont even wanna say her name
Thats all
I wanna sing it from the toppest tower
I wanna sing it from the toppest tower
Thats all
The queen of sheba could have shined her shoes
The queen of sheba could have shined her shoes
Its so
He was ugly and she was beautiful
He was ugly and she was so
Is she conscious
Of the chauffeur as he drives?
Is she conscious
As the ambulance arrives?

song performed by Waterboys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Is She Conscious

Is she conscious
Is she really wide awake?
Is she conscious
Of her beaatiful mistake?
Is she conscious
As she moves among the crowd?
Shes got thw world upon a piece of string
Shes got thw world upon a piece of string
Its so
He was ugly and she was beautiful
He was ugly and she was so
Is she conscious
Is she asleep or just afloat?
Is she conscious
Of the letter that she wrote?
Is she conscious
Of the music in her ears?
The queen of sheba could have shined her shoes
The queen of sheba could have shined her shoes
Its so
He was ugly and she was beautiful
He was ugly and she was so
Is she conscious
As she moves across the room?
Is she conscious
Of the weeping of the moon?
Is she conscious
As she leaves the door ajar?
Is she conscious
As she gets into the car?
I dont even wanna say her name
I dont even wanna say her name
Thats all
I wanna sing it from the toppest tower
I wanna sing it from the toppest tower
Thats all
The queen of sheba could have shined her shoes
The queen of sheba could have shined her shoes
Its so
He was ugly and she was beautiful
He was ugly and she was so
Is she conscious
Of the chauffeur as he drives?
Is she conscious
As the ambulance arrives?

song performed by Waterboys
Added by Lucian Velea
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All You Ever Needed

( you got me wrong, completely wrong
You got me wrong, completely wrong )
I hope youre happy where you are
Youve been heading there for some time
Itsnot like you to complain
But then its not like you imagined
Life has changed but you shouldnt do
Ill remain the same around you
Dont be blind, look where youre coming from
Its all you ever needed
( you got me wrong, completely wrong )
You ll find fault with me warning you
Advice you should have heeded
( you got me wrong, completely wrong )
( you got me wrong, completely wrong completely wrong )
Over time you can find a way
Stop looking out for some sign
Theres a place now where you belong
Just to make it right in your mind
Im just trying to make you see
Youre the only one you have to be
Dont be blind, look where youre coming from
Its all you ever needed
( you got me wrong, completely wrong )
You ll find fault with me warning you
Advice you should have heeded
( you got me wrong, completely wrong )
( you got me wrong, completely wrong completely wrong )
Life has changed but you shouldnt do
Ill remain the same around you
( you got me wrong, completely wrong completely wrong )
You ll find fault with me warning you
Advice you should have heeded
( you got me wrong, completely wrong )
Dont be blind, look where youre coming from
Its all you ever needed
( you got me wrong, completely wrong )
You ll find fault with me warning you
Advice you should have heeded
( you got me wrong, completely wrong )
( you got me wrong, completely wrong )
( you got me wrong, completely wrong ) ...

song performed by Olive
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Womans Worth

You could buy me diamonds , you could buy me pearls
Take me on a cruise around the world
Baby you know Im worth it
Dinner lit by candles, run my bubble bath
Make love tenderly to last and last
Baby you know Im worth it
Wanna please wanna keep wanna treat your woman right
Not just told but to show she is worth your time
You will lose if you choose to refuse to put her first
She will if she cant find a man who knows her worth, mhmn
Cuz a real man knows a real woman when he sees her
And a real woman knows a real man aint afraid to please her
And a real woman knows a real man always comes first
And a real man just cant deny a womans worth
If you treat me fairly Ill give you all my goods
Treat you like a real woman should
Baby I know your worth it
If you never play me , promise not to bluff
Ill hold it down when it gets ruff
Baby I know your worth it
She rolls the mile makes you smile all the while being true
Dont take for granted the passion that she has for you
You will lose if you choose to refuse to put her first
She will if she cant find a man who knows her worth. oh
Cuz a real man knows a real woman when he sees her
And a real woman knows a real man aint afraid to please her
And a real woman knows a real man always comes first
And a real man just cant deny a womans worth
No need to read between the lines, spell it out for you
Just hear this song cuz you cant go wrong when you value
A woman,woman,woman, a womans worth
Cuz a real man knows a real woman when he sees her
And a real woman knows a real man aint fraid to please her
And a real woman knows a real man always comes first
And a real man just cant deny a womans worth
Cuz a real man knows a real woman when he sees her
And a real woman knows a real man aint fraid to please her
And a real woman knows a real man always comes first
And a real man just cant deny a womans worth
Mhmn mhmn mhmn mhmn mhmn mhmn

song performed by Alicia Keys
Added by Lucian Velea
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English Bards and Scotch Reviewers: A Satire

'I had rather be a kitten, and cry mew!
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers'~Shakespeare

'Such shameless bards we have; and yet 'tis true,
There are as mad, abandon'd critics too,'~Pope.

Still must I hear? -- shall hoarse Fitzgerald bawl
His creaking couplets in a tavern hall,
And I not sing, lest, haply, Scotch reviews
Should dub me scribbler, and denounce my muse?
Prepare for rhyme -- I'll publish, right or wrong:
Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.

O nature's noblest gift -- my grey goose-quill!
Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will,
Torn from thy parent bird to form a pen,
That mighty instrument of little men!
The pen! foredoom'd to aid the mental throes
Of brains that labour, big with verse or prose,
Though nymphs forsake, and critics may deride,
The lover's solace, and the author's pride.
What wits, what poets dost thou daily raise!
How frequent is thy use, how small thy praise!
Condemn'd at length to be forgotten quite,
With all the pages which 'twas thine to write.
But thou, at least, mine own especial pen!
Once laid aside, but now assumed again,
Our task complete, like Hamet's shall be free;
Though spurn'd by others, yet beloved by me:
Then let us soar today, no common theme,
No eastern vision, no distemper'd dream
Inspires -- our path, though full of thorns, is plain;
Smooth be the verse, and easy be the strain.

When Vice triumphant holds her sov'reign sway,
Obey'd by all who nought beside obey;
When Folly, frequent harbinger of crime,
Bedecks her cap with bells of every clime;
When knaves and fools combined o'er all prevail,
And weigh their justice in a golden scale;
E'en then the boldest start from public sneers,
Afraid of shame, unknown to other fears,
More darkly sin, by satire kept in awe,
And shrink from ridicule, though not from law.

Such is the force of wit! but not belong
To me the arrows of satiric song;
The royal vices of our age demand
A keener weapon, and a mightier hand.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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Sixth Book

THE English have a scornful insular way
Of calling the French light. The levity
Is in the judgment only, which yet stands;
For say a foolish thing but oft enough,
(And here's the secret of a hundred creeds,–
Men get opinions as boys learn to spell,
By re-iteration chiefly) the same thing
Shall pass at least for absolutely wise,
And not with fools exclusively. And so,
We say the French are light, as if we said
The cat mews, or the milch-cow gives us milk:
Say rather, cats are milked, and milch cows mew,
For what is lightness but inconsequence,
Vague fluctuation 'twixt effect and cause,
Compelled by neither? Is a bullet light,
That dashes from the gun-mouth, while the eye
Winks, and the heart beats one, to flatten itself
To a wafer on the white speck on a wall
A hundred paces off? Even so direct,
So sternly undivertible of aim,
Is this French people.
All idealists
Too absolute and earnest, with them all
The idea of a knife cuts real flesh;
And still, devouring the safe interval
Which Nature placed between the thought and act,
They threaten conflagration to the world
And rush with most unscrupulous logic on
Impossible practice. Set your orators
To blow upon them with loud windy mouths
Through watchword phrases, jest or sentiment,
Which drive our burley brutal English mobs
Like so much chaff, whichever way they blow,–
This light French people will not thus be driven.
They turn indeed; but then they turn upon
Some central pivot of their thought and choice,
And veer out by the force of holding fast.
–That's hard to understand, for Englishmen
Unused to abstract questions, and untrained
To trace the involutions, valve by valve,
In each orbed bulb-root of a general truth,
And mark what subtly fine integument
Divides opposed compartments. Freedom's self
Comes concrete to us, to be understood,
Fixed in a feudal form incarnately
To suit our ways of thought and reverence,
The special form, with us, being still the thing.
With us, I say, though I'm of Italy
My mother's birth and grave, by father's grave
And memory; let it be,–a poet's heart

[...] Read more

poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Pleasures of Imagination: Book The First

With what attractive charms this goodly frame
Of nature touches the consenting hearts
Of mortal men; and what the pleasing stores
Which beauteous imitation thence derives
To deck the poet's, or the painter's toil;
My verse unfolds. Attend, ye gentle powers
Of musical delight! and while i sing
Your gifts, your honours, dance around my strain.
Thou, smiling queen of every tuneful breast,
Indulgent Fancy! from the fruitful banks
Of Avon, whence thy rosy fingers cull
Fresh flowers and dews to sprinkle on the turf
Where Shakespeare lies, be present: and with thee
Let Fiction come, upon her vagrant wings
Wafting ten thousand colours through the air,
Which, by the glances of her magic eye,
She blends and shifts at will, through countless forms,
Her wild creation. Goddess of the lyre,
Which rules the accents of the moving sphere,
Wilt thou, eternal Harmony! descend
And join this festive train? for with thee comes
The guide, the guardian of their lovely sports,
Majestic Truth; and where Truth deigns to come,
Her sister Liberty will not be far.
Be present all ye Genii, who conduct
The wandering footsteps of the youthful bard,
New to your springs and shades: who touch his ear
With finer sounds: who heighten to his eye
The bloom of nature, and before him turn
The gayest, happiest attitude of things.

Oft have the laws of each poetic strain
The critic-verse imploy'd; yet still unsung
Lay this prime subject, though importing most
A poet's name: for fruitless is the attempt,
By dull obedience and by creeping toil
Obscure to conquer the severe ascent
Of high Parnassus. Nature's kindling breath
Must fire the chosen genius; nature's hand
Must string his nerves, and imp his eagle-wings
Impatient of the painful steep, to soar
High as the summit; there to breathe at large
Æthereal air: with bards and sages old,
Immortal sons of praise. These flattering scenes
To this neglected labour court my song;
Yet not unconscious what a doubtful task
To paint the finest features of the mind,
And to most subtile and mysterious things
Give colour, strength, and motion. But the love
Of nature and the muses bids explore,

[...] Read more

poem by Mark Akenside
Added by Poetry Lover
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