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Don't get scaled by the gruel of another.

Swedish proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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Cross Eyed Mary

Who would be a poor man, a beggerman, a thief
if he had a rich man in his hand
And who would steal the candy from a laughing baby's mouth
if he could take it from the money man
Cross-eyed Mary goes jumping in again
She signs no contract but she always plays it clean
She dines in Hampstead village on expense accounted gruel
and the jack knife barber drops her off at school
Laughing in the playground gets no kicks from little boys
would rather make it with a letching gray
Or maybe her attention is drawn by Aqualung
who watches through the railings as they play
Cross-eyed Mary finds it hard to get along
A poor man's rich girl and she'll do it for a song
A rich man's stealer but her favour's good and strong
She's the Robin Hood of Highgate helps the poor man get along
Laughing in the playground gets no kicks from little boys
would rather make it with a letching gray
Or maybe her attention is drawn by Aqualung
who watches through the railings as they play
Cross-eyed Mary goes jumping in again
She signs no contract but she always plays it clean
She dines in Hampstead village on expense accounted gruel
and the jack knife barber drops her off at school
Cross-eyed Mary, Oh Mary.... Oh cross-eyed Mary

song performed by Iron Maiden
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Everlasting Return

It is dark… so dark, I remember the sun on Chios…
It is still… so still, I hear the beat of our paddles on the Aegean…

Ten times we had watched the moon
Rise like a thin white virgin out of the waters
And round into a full maternity…
For thrice ten moons we had touched no flesh
Save the man flesh on either hand
That was black and bitter and salt and scaled by the sea.

The Athenian boy sat on my left…
His hair was yellow as corn steeped in wine…
And on my right was Phildar the Carthaginian,
Grinning Phildar
With his mouth pulled taut as by reins from his black gapped teeth.
Many a whip had coiled about him
And his shoulders were rutted deep as wet ground under chariot wheels,
And his skin was red and tough as a bull's hide cured in the sun.
He did not sing like the other slaves,
But when a big wind came up he screamed with it.
And always he looked out to sea,
Save when he tore at his fish ends
Or spat across me at the Greek boy, whose mouth was red and apart
like an opened fruit.

We had rowed from dawn and the green galley hard at our stern.
She was green and squat and skulked close to the sea.
All day the tish of their paddles had tickled our ears,
And when night came on
And little naked stars dabbled in the water
And half the crouching moon
Slid over the silver belly of the sea thick-scaled with light,
We heard them singing at their oars…
We who had no breath for song.

There was no sound in our boat
Save the clingle of wrist chains
And the sobbing of the young Greek.
I cursed him that his hair blew in my mouth, tasting salt of the sea…
I cursed him that his oar kept ill time…
When he looked at me I cursed him again,
That his eyes were soft as a woman's.

How long… since their last shell gouged our batteries?
How long… since we rose at aim with a sleuth moon astern?
(It was the damned green moon that nosed us out…
The moon that flushed our periscope till it shone like a silver flame…)

They loosed each man's right hand
As the galley spent on our decks…

[...] Read more

poem by Lola Ridge
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Tamar

I
A night the half-moon was like a dancing-girl,
No, like a drunkard's last half-dollar
Shoved on the polished bar of the eastern hill-range,
Young Cauldwell rode his pony along the sea-cliff;
When she stopped, spurred; when she trembled, drove
The teeth of the little jagged wheels so deep
They tasted blood; the mare with four slim hooves
On a foot of ground pivoted like a top,
Jumped from the crumble of sod, went down, caught, slipped;
Then, the quick frenzy finished, stiffening herself
Slid with her drunken rider down the ledges,
Shot from sheer rock and broke
Her life out on the rounded tidal boulders.

The night you know accepted with no show of emotion the little
accident; grave Orion
Moved northwest from the naked shore, the moon moved to
meridian, the slow pulse of the ocean
Beat, the slow tide came in across the slippery stones; it drowned
the dead mare's muzzle and sluggishly
Felt for the rider; Cauldwell’s sleepy soul came back from the
blind course curious to know
What sea-cold fingers tapped the walls of its deserted ruin.
Pain, pain and faintness, crushing
Weights, and a vain desire to vomit, and soon again
die icy fingers, they had crept over the loose hand and lay in the
hair now. He rolled sidewise
Against mountains of weight and for another half-hour lay still.
With a gush of liquid noises
The wave covered him head and all, his body
Crawled without consciousness and like a creature with no bones,
a seaworm, lifted its face
Above the sea-wrack of a stone; then a white twilight grew about
the moon, and above
The ancient water, the everlasting repetition of the dawn. You
shipwrecked horseman
So many and still so many and now for you the last. But when it
grew daylight
He grew quite conscious; broken ends of bone ground on each
other among the working fibers
While by half-inches he was drawing himself out of the seawrack
up to sandy granite,
Out of the tide's path. Where the thin ledge tailed into flat cliff
he fell asleep. . . .
Far seaward
The daylight moon hung like a slip of cloud against the horizon.
The tide was ebbing
From the dead horse and the black belt of sea-growth. Cauldwell
seemed to have felt her crying beside him,

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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There is a skill in gruel making.

Scottish proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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There's no hurry, said the shoemaker, he had gruel with his awl.

Swedish proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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There's skill in gruel making.

Scottish proverbs
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Without a sense of place the work is often reduced to a cry of voices in empty rooms, a literature of the self, at its best poetic music; at its worst a thin gruel of the ego.

quote by William Kennedy
Added by Lucian Velea
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Arthur Mcbride

1. oh, me and my cousin, one arthur mcbride,
As we went a-walkin down by the seaside,
Mark now what followed and what did betide,
For it bein on christmas mornin
Now, for recreation, we went on a tramp,
And we met sergeant napper and corporal vamp
And a little wee drummer intending to camp,
For the day bein pleasant and charmin.
2. good morning, good morning, the sergeant he cried.
And the same to you, gentlemen, we did reply,
Intending no harm but meant to pass by,
For it bein on christmas mornin
But, says he, my fine fellows, if you will enlist,
Ten guineas in gold Ill stick to your fist,
And a crown in the bargain for to kick up the dust,
And drink the kings health in the morning.
3. for a soldier, he leads a very fine life,
And he always is blessed with a charming young wife,
And he pays all his debts without sorrow or strife,
And he always lives pleasant and charmin,
And a soldier, he always is decent and clean,
In the finest of clothing hes constantly seen.
While other poor fellows go dirty and mean,
And sup on thin gruel in the morning.
Instrumental
4. but, says arthur, I wouldnt be proud of your clothes,
For youve only the lend of them, as I suppose,
But you dare not change them one night, for you know
If you do, youll be flogged in the morning,
And although that were single and free,
We take great delight in our own company,
We have no desire strange places to see,
Although that your offers are charming.
5. and we have no desire to take your advance,
All hazards and dangers we barter on chance,
For youd have no scruples for to send us to france,
Where we would get shot without warning,
Oh no, says the sergeant. Ill have no such chat,
And neither will I take it from snappy young brats,
For if you insult me with one other word,
Ill cut off your heads in the morning.
6. and arthur and i, we soon drew our hogs,
And we scarce gave them time to draw their own blades
When a trusty shillelagh came over their head
And bid them take that as fair warning.
And their old rusty rapiers that hung by their sides,
We flung them as far as we could in the tide,
Now take them up, devils! cried arthur mcbride,
And temper their edge in the mornin!
7. and the little wee drummer, we flattened his bow,

[...] Read more

song performed by Bob Dylan
Added by Lucian Velea
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I'll dispose of my teeth as I see fit, and after they've gone, I'll get along. I started off living on gruel, and by God, I can always go back to it again.

quote by S.J. Perelman
Added by Lucian Velea
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It Tastes Like NECTAR

To be an unwanted guest
sitting alone in the absence of the host
eating food 'hot and shining like an eye of a cat',
It is not delicious, but considered 'bitter like neem';

If you happen to eat in a house
where you are greeted kindly with respect,
the host also accompanies you to dine,
however they are poor;

Even if they provide cold watery gruel,
prepared with poor quality rice grains,
It tastes like NECTAR,
imbibes with your mind and body.

poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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There was an old man of Tobago,
Who lived on rice, gruel and sago
Till, much to his bliss,
His physician said this -
To a leg, sir, of mutton you may go.

limerick by Edward Lear
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There was an Old Person of Ewell,
Who chiefly subsisted on gruel;
But to make it more nice
He inserted some mice,
Which refreshed that Old Person of Ewell.

limerick by Edward Lear
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Inspired by Issa - Prayers

all the lotuses
aides in
my prayers

tanka:

the lotuses have fully
bloomed to
embrace the sky
like my heart after the
dawn prayers

blossomed

inspired by

this day-
even stirring gruel
is a prayer!
-Issa,1814

http: //cat.xula.edu/issa/

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Cross-eyed Mary

Who would be a poor man, a beggarman, a thief --
If he had a rich man in his hand.
And who would steal the candy
From a laughing babys mouth
If he could take it from the money man.
Cross-eyed mary goes jumping in again.
She signs no contract
But she always plays the game.
Dines in hampstead village
On expense accounted gruel,
And the jack-knife barber drops her off at school.
Laughing in the playground -- gets no kicks from little boys:
Would rather make it with a letching grey.
Or maybe her attention is drawn by aqualung,
Who watches through the railings as they play.
Cross-eyed mary finds it hard to get along.
Shes a poor mans rich girl
And shell do it for a song.
Shes a rich man stealer
But her favours good and strong:
Shes the robin hood of highgate --
Helps the poor man get along.

song performed by Jethro Tull
Added by Lucian Velea
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Cavern

Your time is near, the missions clear
Its later than we think
Before you slip into the night
Youll want something to drink
Steal away before the dawn, and
Bring us back good news
But if youve tread in primal soup
Please wipe it from your shoes
Just then a porthole pirate
Scourged the evening with his cry
And sanctuary bugs deprived
The monkey of its thigh
A dust arose and clogged my nose
Before I could blink twice
Despite the stuff that bubbled up
I gave some last advice:
The flesh from satans dogs
Will make the rudiments of gruel
Deduct the carrots from your pay
You worthless swampy fool
Exploding then through fields and fen
And swimming in the mire
The septic maidens gargoyle tooth
Demented me with fire
I drifted where the current chose
Afloat upon my back
And if perchance a newt slimed by
Id stuff it in my sack
Soon I felt a bubble form, somewhere below my skin
But with handy spine of hedgehog
I removed the force within
Suzie then removed her mask
And caused a mighty stir
The angry mob responded
Taking turns at grabbing her
The foggy caverns musty grime
Appeared within my palm
I snatched ricks fork to scrape it off
With deadly icy calm
[(original lyrics - from 4.22.90)
The brothel wife then grabbed a knife
And slashed me on the tongue
I turned the blade back on the bitch
And dropped her in the dung]
The crowd meanwhile had taken sue
And used her like a rag
To mop the slime from where the slug
Had slithered with the bag
In summing up, the moral seems
A little bit obscure...

[...] Read more

song performed by Phish
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Part VI

With a change
Of his whole manner, opens out at once
The Adversary.

"Now, my friend, for you!
You who, protected late, aggressive grown,
Brandish, it seems, a weapon I must 'ware!
Plain speech in me becomes respectable
Therefore, because courageous; plainly, then—
(Have lash well loose, hold handle tight and light!)
Throughout my life's experience, you indulged
Yourself and friend by passing in review
So courteously but now, I vainly search
To find one record of a specimen
So perfect of the pure and simple fool
As this you furnish me. Ingratitude
I lump with folly,—all's one lot,—so—fool!
Did I seek you or you seek me? Seek? sneak
For service to, and service you would style—
And did style—godlike, scarce an hour ago!
Fool, there again, yet not precisely there
First-rate in folly: since the hand you kissed
Did pick you from the kennel, did plant firm
Your footstep on the pathway, did persuade
Your awkward shamble to true gait and pace,
Fit for the world you walk in. Once a-strut
On that firm pavement which your cowardice
Was for renouncing as a pitfall, next
Came need to clear your brains of their conceit
They cleverly could distinguish who was who,
Whatever folk might tramp the thoroughfare.
Men, now—familiarly you read them off,
Each phyz at first sight! O you had an eye!
Who couched it? made you disappoint each fox
Eager to strip my gosling of his fluff
So golden as he cackled 'Goose trusts lamb?'
'Ay, but I saved you—wolf defeated fox—
Wanting to pick your bones myself!' then, wolf
Has got the worst of it with goose for once.
I, penniless, pay you ten thousand pounds
(—No gesture, pray! I pay ere I depart!)
And how you turn advantage to account
Here's the example! Have I proved so wrong
In my peremptory 'debt must be discharged'?
O you laughed lovelily, were loth to leave
The old friend out at elbows—pooh, a thing
Not to be thought of! I must keep my cash,
And you forget your generosity!
Ha ha, I took your measure when I laughed
My laugh to that! First quarrel—nay, first faint

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Inn Album (1875)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Losers Win?

Freedom beyond liberty
A goal not for all to attain
Most loose it from failing
Others by whom to blame

Freedom is only for the willing
Willing to look beyond the rule
They gain no forgiving
For not doing what serves the gruel

Freedom need be hard if to sustain
For the losers always seem to win
The challenger being reason to blame
So losers can feel good again

poem by Joseph PARASCANDALO
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Canto the Eleventh

I
When Bishop Berkeley said "there was no matter,"
And proved it -- 't was no matter what he said:
They say his system 't is in vain to batter,
Too subtle for the airiest human head;
And yet who can believe it? I would shatter
Gladly all matters down to stone or lead,
Or adamant, to find the world a spirit,
And wear my head, denying that I wear it.

II
What a sublime discovery 't was to make the
Universe universal egotism,
That all's ideal -- all ourselves! -- I'll stake the
World (be it what you will) that that's no schism.
Oh Doubt! -- if thou be'st Doubt, for which some take thee;
But which I doubt extremely -- thou sole prism
Of the Truth's rays, spoil not my draught of spirit!
Heaven's brandy, though our brain can hardly bear it.

III
For ever and anon comes Indigestion,
(Not the most "dainty Ariel") and perplexes
Our soarings with another sort of question:
And that which after all my spirit vexes,
Is, that I find no spot where man can rest eye on,
Without confusion of the sorts and sexes,
Of beings, stars, and this unriddled wonder,
The world, which at the worst's a glorious blunder --

IV
If it be chance; or if it be according
To the old text, still better: -- lest it should
Turn out so, we'll say nothing 'gainst the wording,
As several people think such hazards rude.
They're right; our days are too brief for affording
Space to dispute what no one ever could
Decide, and everybody one day will
Know very clearly -- or at least lie still.

V
And therefore will I leave off metaphysical
Discussion, which is neither here nor there:
If I agree that what is, is; then this I call
Being quite perspicuous and extremely fair;
The truth is, I've grown lately rather phthisical:
I don't know what the reason is -- the air
Perhaps; but as I suffer from the shocks
Of illness, I grow much more orthodox.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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(Religious&Life Poem) Bliss of A Infinite Utopia

He unites the people with a common cause.
He claims to be the savior predisposed to what you want.
But again he's not.
World peace under one rule.
I believe their is no such thing.
So I say no.
I will not follow your rules and eat gruel.
Put down like a bad child.
Here's you spanking if you please.
Nobody get's me.
I'm so stripped, I stand in nakedness and I don't care.
Let them strike me dead.
Or let no one listen.
Either way being the same.
I'm just a number and a name.
A label intertwined into the chaos of the world.
A digit that must be dug deep to find.
Become of pigs or swine.
A thirst inside drives me.
To say hello.
Ello, ello?
Nobody answers, but again it does not matter.
Because I'm of the ignorant, or maybe it's thought of I'm too desperate.
Who am I but a lonely child that walks upon this earth?
Looking more for answers, then attention.
If I just figure it out.
I could make everybodys' life simpler.
Eliminate all strife.
No worries at all.
Indifference dead.
The water has gotten warm everybody get in.
Feel as the pain completely fades.
Life of happiness, with no sadness.
Desires fulfilled.
Dreams achieved.
Hope no longer needed.
Accomplishment of a standard in which their is no coming down.
Capture all the stars in one fell swoop.
Bliss of a infinite utopia.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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We Are The Good Guys

What lies behind these words thick, heavy, and dark.
A stroll at midnight through the park.
A slasher film gone terribly wrong.
The killer dies before the murders can even start.
As hate turns into love from far above.
A shadow knight gazing upon the sun.
He knows it will mean instance death if he looks yet he still does.
It was not the way it was suppose to be.
And with the supposing their was only one possibility.
A delight of delights, with heaven almost in sight.
Breaking the angel wings, ripping them off, and making them his own.
Cruel and unjust, but how would it be if it was the only way.
That is to say in a world where only one rule rules.
A blatant attempt to try to make everyone eat the same old gruel day after day.
Watch as the taste buds within the tongue decay.
They know of nothing any better so why would they even care.
Oblivious to the world beyond which I let them see,
It is for all our own good.
Let the mind not be tempted by wondering thoughts for who really knows where of this wondering might lead
As if something only of the bad could ever come.
A fear unjust, but engaged in so much.
You can't protect yourself only we can.
So their is most certainly no need for you to have those guns.
The right to bare arms against most certainly not us.
Oh how the tables could turn and have already.
A projected image of our constant happiness.
But how could that be in any reality?
Visions so poor, images continuously blurred.
What you think you saw was really never their.
A panic of the great despair.
Please we need to breath so clear the air.
A constant of squeezing is not nurturing, but instead smothering.
A life choked out, by its own heritage.
You were born into it so you will never escape.
The race is fixed and only we know the winners.
We create them every day.
Images for you to continuous idolize while our lies are written into law.
Effective immediately to save you.
Come on now you would not refuse the help, for I know you need it.
All we ask is first you must let us spit in your face as we chain you to this electric fence.
No how much do you want with the switch being in our hand.
Just remember we were the ones that gave a damn.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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