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It rings, it is empty.

Latin proverbs
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Rings Around The Moon

Rings around the moon
(written by b. r. & m. gibb)
If youre lonely in the black of night
If you call me, Ill be there
I was falling and you helped me get it right
And I thank you girl, and I thank you
And I pray for the sign
And I wont be too late
If you just come down
I can look you in the eye
I can tell you that I love you
And my love will never die
And its time that you know
Just how far I mean to go
We fly rings around the moon
We fly rings around the moon
We fly rings around the moon
We fly rings around the moon
Come tomorrow, candle burns
And I wake up by your side
All my sorrow, you made it disappear
And I thank you, and I thank you
And I lay down my life
And I wont be alone
If you just take time
And be sure of who you are
We can take it up to heaven
We can walk amongst the stars
And I know if you stay
I will never turn away
We fly rings around the moon
We fly rings around the moon
We fly rings around the moon
We fly rings around the moon
And I pray for the sign
And I wont be too late
If you just take time
And be sure of who you are
We can take it up to heaven
We can walk amongst the stars
And I know if you stay
I will never turn away
We fly rings around the moon
We fly rings around the moon
We fly rings around the moon
We fly rings around the moon

song performed by Bee Gees
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Without the Immortal Love of a Woman…

Every man’s eye is devastatingly empty; unbearably rotting towards the dungeons of diabolical hell; without the celestially commiserating reflections of a bountiful woman,

Every man’s palm is sinfully empty; barbarously rotting towards the coffins of penalizing hell; without the compassionately befriending grip of an honest woman,

Every man’s vein is dreadfully empty; devilishly rotting towards the vacuum of torturous hell; without the invincibly righteous rudiments of a sacrosanct woman,

Every man’s brain is deliriously empty; sadistically rotting towards the thorns of cold-blooded hell; without the unsurpassably ebullient fantasies of an eclectic woman,

Every man’s lip is ghastily empty; tawdrily rotting towards the mortuaries of parasitic hell; without the wondrously igniting kisses of an ardent woman,

Every man’s shadow is venomously empty; carnivorously rotting towards the skeletons of hideous hell; without the mellifluously symbiotic sweetness of a benign woman,

Every man’s signature is disastrously empty; egregiously rotting towards the nothingness of hedonistic hell; without the astoundingly ameliorating reflection of a caring woman,

Every man’s mission is treacherously empty; horrendously rotting towards the dirt of excoriating hell; without the pricelessly unconquerable encouragement of a blessed woman,

Every man’s lung is cripplingly empty; nonsensically rotting towards the meaninglessness of asphyxiating hell; without the unassailably reinvigorating breath of a timeless woman,

Every man’s cheek is lecherously empty; salaciously rotting towards the perversions of crucifying hell; without the mischievously spell binding peck of an untamed woman,

Every man’s chest is drearily empty; ignominiously rotting towards the blackness of massacring hell; without the magically reincarnating caress of a sensuous woman,

Every man’s spine is lividly empty; preposterously rotting towards the holocaust of morbid hell; without the insurmountably majestic virility of an enigmatic woman,

Every man’s adventure is hopelessly empty; sacrilegiously rotting towards the ghost of tormenting hell; without the inscrutably tantalizing echo of a mesmerizing woman,

Every man’s skin is frigidly empty; inconsolably rotting towards the whiplash of strangulating hell; without the fathomlessly unabashed exhilaration of an intrepid woman,

Every man’s soul is cursedly empty; inexplicably rotting towards the gallows of murderous hell; without the infallibly consecrating sensitivity of a vivacious woman,

Every man’s shoulder is dolorously empty; blasphemously rotting towards the shards of deteriorating hell; without the amazingly unflinching unity of a blissful woman,

Every man’s ear is abjectly empty; viciously rotting towards the gutters of malevolent hell; without the enchantingly unfettered voice of a mystical woman,

Every man’s nostril is despondently empty; perilously rotting towards the wickedness of baseless hell; without the perennially life-yielding fragrance of an intricate woman,

And every man’s heart is haplessly empty; unsparingly rotting towards the evil jinx of cannibalistic hell; without the immortally embracing love of a faithful woman….

poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Beowulf

LO, praise of the prowess of people-kings
of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,
we have heard, and what honor the athelings won!
Oft Scyld the Scefing from squadroned foes,
from many a tribe, the mead-bench tore,
awing the earls. Since erst he lay
friendless, a foundling, fate repaid him:
for he waxed under welkin, in wealth he throve,
till before him the folk, both far and near,
who house by the whale-path, heard his mandate,
gave him gifts: a good king he!
To him an heir was afterward born,
a son in his halls, whom heaven sent
to favor the folk, feeling their woe
that erst they had lacked an earl for leader
so long a while; the Lord endowed him,
the Wielder of Wonder, with world's renown.
Famed was this Beowulf: far flew the boast of him,
son of Scyld, in the Scandian lands.
So becomes it a youth to quit him well
with his father's friends, by fee and gift,
that to aid him, aged, in after days,
come warriors willing, should war draw nigh,
liegemen loyal: by lauded deeds
shall an earl have honor in every clan.
Forth he fared at the fated moment,
sturdy Scyld to the shelter of God.
Then they bore him over to ocean's billow,
loving clansmen, as late he charged them,
while wielded words the winsome Scyld,
the leader beloved who long had ruled….
In the roadstead rocked a ring-dight vessel,
ice-flecked, outbound, atheling's barge:
there laid they down their darling lord
on the breast of the boat, the breaker-of-rings,
by the mast the mighty one. Many a treasure
fetched from far was freighted with him.
No ship have I known so nobly dight
with weapons of war and weeds of battle,
with breastplate and blade: on his bosom lay
a heaped hoard that hence should go
far o'er the flood with him floating away.
No less these loaded the lordly gifts,
thanes' huge treasure, than those had done
who in former time forth had sent him
sole on the seas, a suckling child.
High o'er his head they hoist the standard,
a gold-wove banner; let billows take him,
gave him to ocean. Grave were their spirits,
mournful their mood. No man is able

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Empty Sky

I woke up this morning
I could barely breathe
Just an empty impression
In the bed there you used to be
I want a kiss from your lips
I want an eye for an eye
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
Empty sky, empty sky
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
Empty sky, empty sky
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
Blood on the streets
Blood flowin down
I hear the blood of my blood
Cryin from the ground
Empty sky, empty sky
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
Empty sky, empty sky
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
On the plains of jordan
I cut my bow from the wood
Of this tree of evil
Of this tree of good
I want a kiss from your lips
I want an eye for an eye
I woke up this morning to the empty sky

song performed by Bruce Springsteen
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Skull Ring

(feat. The Stooges)
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Money
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Fancy things
The touch of a hand in the wasteland
you're walking asleep and dreaming cheap
A bird's wing don't beat for free
You're freezing cold and your family
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Money
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Fancy things
Fingers on fire to do what's bad
Ring on the finger is a skull man
Strong as a bar of steel
Weakness is that you can't feel
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Money
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Fancy things
My life is dirtied, my mind is loaded
I'm feeling and breathing and fighting
To see
People get ready now
Baby come on give your heart to me
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Money
Skull rings
Fast cars
Hot chicks
Fancy things

song performed by Iggy Pop
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Family Bussiness

[Intro: Kanye West]
How's your son? (all, all, all the things, things)
He make the team this year? (all, all, all the things things)
Aw th-, they said he wasn't tall enough?
(all, all, all the glitter in that gold)
Yeah me we gon' cook this up (now gold is not a reality)
(real is what you live to be)
[Verse 1: Kanye West]
This is family business
And this is for the family that can't be with us
And this is for my cousin locked down, know the answer's in us
That's why I spit it in my songs so sweet
Like a photo of your granny's picture
Now that you're gone it hit us
Super hard on Thankgiving and Christmas, this can't be right
Yeah you heard the track I did man, this can't be light
Somebody please say grace so I can save face
And have a reason to cover my face
I even made you a plate, soul food, know how Granny do it
Monkey bread on the side, know how the family do it
When I brought it why had guard have to look all to it?
As kids we used to laugh
Who knew that life would move this fast?
Who knew I'd have to look at you through a glass?
And look, tell me you ain't did it, you ain't did it
And if you did, then that's family business
[Hook: Choir]
And I don't care 'bout (all the, all the diamond rings, diamond rings)
They don't mean a thing (all, all, all the things)
All these fancy things
I tell you that all (all the glitter) I'm waiting for
Now all I know I know all these things
[Verse 2: Kanye West]
This is family business
And this is for everybody standin' with us
Come on, let's take a family Grammy picture
Abby, remember when they ain't believe in me?
Now she like "See, that's my cousin on TV"
Now, we gettin' it and we gon' make it
And y'all gon' hate it and I'm his favorite
I can't deny it, I'm a straight rider
But when we get together be electric slidin'
Grandma, get 'em shook up
Aw naw, don't open the photo book up
I got an Aunt Ruth that can't remember your name
But I bet them Polaroids'll send her down memory lane
You know that one auntie, you don't wanna be rude
But every holiday nobody eatin' her food
And you don't wanna stay there cuz them your worst cousins
Got roaches at their crib like them your first cousins

[...] Read more

song performed by Kanye West
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Digging Real Deep

Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch or a feel of return.
And a lesson's not learned,
That...
A deposit made to dip,
For tasty lips...
Took too many dips,
To withdrawn the end of it.

And there will be no return...
You put that last deposit in your pocket,
And then you split...
With it.

You put that last deposit in your pocket,
And then you split...
With it.

Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch or a feel of return.
And a lesson's not learned,
That...
A deposit made to dip,
For tasty lips...
Took too many dips,
To withdrawn the end of it.

Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch of return,
IS...
Digging real deep.

Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.

Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.

Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch of return,
IS...
Digging real deep

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 12

WHEN Turnus saw the Latins leave the field,
Their armies broken, and their courage quell’d,
Himself become the mark of public spite,
His honor question’d for the promis’d fight;
The more he was with vulgar hate oppress’d, 5
The more his fury boil’d within his breast:
He rous’d his vigor for the last debate,
And rais’d his haughty soul to meet his fate.
As, when the swains the Libyan lion chase,
He makes a sour retreat, nor mends his pace; 10
But, if the pointed jav’lin pierce his side,
The lordly beast returns with double pride:
He wrenches out the steel, he roars for pain;
His sides he lashes, and erects his mane:
So Turnus fares; his eyeballs flash with fire, 15
Thro’ his wide nostrils clouds of smoke expire.
Trembling with rage, around the court he ran,
At length approach’d the king, and thus began:
“No more excuses or delays: I stand
In arms prepar’d to combat, hand to hand, 20
This base deserter of his native land.
The Trojan, by his word, is bound to take
The same conditions which himself did make.
Renew the truce; the solemn rites prepare,
And to my single virtue trust the war. 25
The Latians unconcern’d shall see the fight;
This arm unaided shall assert your right:
Then, if my prostrate body press the plain,
To him the crown and beauteous bride remain.”
To whom the king sedately thus replied: 30
“Brave youth, the more your valor has been tried,
The more becomes it us, with due respect,
To weigh the chance of war, which you neglect.
You want not wealth, or a successive throne,
Or cities which your arms have made your own: 35
My towns and treasures are at your command,
And stor’d with blooming beauties is my land;
Laurentum more than one Lavinia sees,
Unmarried, fair, of noble families.
Now let me speak, and you with patience hear, 40
Things which perhaps may grate a lover’s ear,
But sound advice, proceeding from a heart
Sincerely yours, and free from fraudful art.
The gods, by signs, have manifestly shown,
No prince Italian born should heir my throne: 45
Oft have our augurs, in prediction skill’d,
And oft our priests, a foreign son reveal’d.
Yet, won by worth that cannot be withstood,
Brib’d by my kindness to my kindred blood,
Urg’d by my wife, who would not be denied, 50

[...] Read more

poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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Unlovable

Are my lips unkissable?
Are my eyes unlookable?
Is my skin untouchable?
Am I unlovable?
Cynical, jaded, faithless, disappointed, disillusioned, used
If I could take back all my sweat, my tears, my sex, my joy I would
My time, my love, my effort, passion, dedication
In case of mistaken identity I gave these things to you
If I sound angry, bitter, sad, infatuated, it's the truth
Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, just a few
Stages of acceptance that it's really over
It's just so complicated and I'm stupid for believing in you
You make me feel like my father never loved me
You make me feel like the act of love is empty
Am I so unlovable?
Is my skin untouchable?
Do I remind you of a part of you that you don't like?
I had your back, I held you up, I told you you were good enough
It was not reciprocated, you kept affection and yourself apart
You fed your love to me like crumbs to pigeons in the park
Sometimes I think you're satisfied to see me begging like a dog
I wasn't armoured, you were king, I gave my everything
Because sometimes you showed me just a hint of you and then
For just a moment I romanticised the notion
I can take away the torment, I can love you like they never did
You make me feel like my father never loved me (you never loved me)
You make me feel like the act of love is empty (I felt so empty)
Am I so unlovable?
Is my skin untouchable?
Do I remind you of a part of you that you don't like?
You make me feel like my mother, she abandoned me (you abandoned me)
You make me feel like the act of love is empty (I felt so empty)
Am I so unlovable?
Is my heart unbreakable?
Do I remind you of a part of you that you despise?
Are my lips unkissable?
Are my eyes unlookable?
Is my sex undoable?
Am I unlovable?
Are my words unlistenable?
Are my hands untouchable?
Am I undesirable?
Am I unlovable?
You make me feel like my father never loved me
You make me feel like the act of love is empty
Am I so unlovable?
Is my skin untouchable?
Do I remind you of a part of you that you don't like?
You make me feel like my father never loved me (you never loved me)
You make me feel like the act of love is empty (I felt so empty)

[...] Read more

song performed by Darren Hayes
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Empty Old Houses

Empty Old Houses

Empty old houses can talk…
But one must know how to listen…
to hear them

Empty old houses have stories…
But one must be eager to listen…
to hear them

Empty old houses can suffer..
But one must have empathy …
To feel it

Empty old houses can feel pain
But one must be able to bear it …
To feel it

Empty old houses have memories
But one must believe … that they have…
To share them

Empty old houses contain people’s lives
But one must believe…that they do…
To share them

Empty old houses can seem dead and deserted
But one must know that they’re not..
To know them

Empty old houses can teem with life’s pleasures
But one must walk through
to sense the aura of life

Empty old houses abound in life’s treasures
But one cannot help but…
To admire them

poem by David Whalen
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Fallen, Empty, And Broken

fallen soldier
fallen sky
fallen angel
from on high
fallen heartache
fallen soul
fallen man
losing control

empty bed
empty arms
empty dreams
empty heart
empty wallet
empty hands
cant take nothin'
from an empty man

broken promises
broken vows
broken spirit
wont allow
broken fences
broken lives
broken tomorrows
broken nights

fallen, empty, and broken
every road is the same
bent, bruised, and shaken
still numb from the pain
now you dont answer
when i call out your name
fallen, empty, and broken
walking in the rain...

fallen, empty, and broken...

poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Scripture of the Golden Eternity

1
Did I create that sky? Yes, for, if it was anything other than a conception in my mind I wouldnt have said 'Sky'-That is why I am the golden eternity. There are not two of us here, reader and writer, but one, one golden eternity, One-Which-It-Is, That-Which- Everything-Is.

2
The awakened Buddha to show the way, the chosen Messiah to die in the degradation of sentience, is the golden eternity. One that is what is, the golden eternity, or, God, or, Tathagata-the name. The Named One. The human God. Sentient Godhood. Animate Divine. The Deified One. The Verified One. The Free One. The Liberator. The Still One. The settled One. The Established One. Golden Eternity. All is Well. The Empty One. The Ready One. The Quitter. The Sitter. The Justified One. The Happy One.

3
That sky, if it was anything other than an illusion of my mortal mind I wouldnt have said 'that sky.' Thus I made that sky, I am the golden eternity. I am Mortal Golden Eternity.

4
I was awakened to show the way, chosen to die in the degradation of life, because I am Mortal Golden Eternity.

5
I am the golden eternity in mortal animate form.

6
Strictly speaking, there is no me, because all is emptiness. I am empty, I am non-existent. All is bliss.

7
This truth law has no more reality than the world.

8
You are the golden eternity because there is no me and no you, only one golden eternity.

9
The Realizer. Entertain no imaginations whatever, for the thing is a no-thing. Knowing this then is Human Godhood.

10
This world is the movie of what everything is, it is one movie, made of the same stuff throughout, belonging to nobody, which is what everything is.

11
If we were not all the golden eternity we wouldnt be here. Because we are here we cant help being pure. To tell man to be pure on account of the punishing angel that punishes the bad and the rewarding angel that rewards the good would be like telling the water 'Be Wet'-Never the less, all things depend on supreme reality, which is already established as the record of Karma earned-fate.

12
God is not outside us but is just us, the living and the dead, the never-lived and never-died. That we should learn it only now, is supreme reality, it was written a long time ago in the archives of universal mind, it is already done, there's no more to do.

13
This is the knowledge that sees the golden eternity in all things, which is us, you, me, and which is no longer us, you, me.

14
What name shall we give it which hath no name, the common eternal matter of the mind? If we were to call it essence, some might think it meant perfume, or gold, or honey. It is not even mind. It is not even discussible, groupable into words; it is not even endless, in fact it is not even mysterious or inscrutably inexplicable; it is what is; it is that; it is this. We could easily call the golden eternity 'This.' But 'what's in a name?' asked Shakespeare. The golden eternity by another name would be as sweet. A Tathagata, a God, a Buddha by another name, an Allah, a Sri Krishna, a Coyote, a Brahma, a Mazda, a Messiah, an Amida, an Aremedeia, a Maitreya, a Palalakonuh, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 would be as sweet. The golden eternity is X, the golden eternity is A, the golden eternity is /\, the golden eternity is O, the golden eternity is [ ], the golden eternity is t-h-e-g-o-l-d-e-n-e-t-e-r- n-i-t-y. In the beginning was the word; before the beginning, in the beginningless infinite neverendingness, was the essence. Both the word 'god' and the essence of the word, are emptiness. The form of emptiness which is emptiness having taken the form of form, is what you see and hear and feel right now, and what you taste and smell and think as you read this. Wait awhile, close your eyes, let your breathing stop three seconds or so, listen to the inside silence in the womb of the world, let your hands and nerve-ends drop, re-recognize the bliss you forgot, the emptiness and essence and ecstasy of ever having been and ever to be the golden eternity. This is the lesson you forgot.

15
The lesson was taught long ago in the other world systems that have naturally changed into the empty and awake, and are here now smiling in our smile and scowling in our scowl. It is only like the golden eternity pretending to be smiling and scowling to itself; like a ripple on the smooth ocean of knowing. The fate of humanity is to vanish into the golden eternity, return pouring into its hands which are not hands. The navel shall receive, invert, and take back what'd issued forth; the ring of flesh shall close; the personalities of long dead heroes are blank dirt.

16
The point is we're waiting, not how comfortable we are while waiting. Paleolithic man waited by caves for the realization of why he was there, and hunted; modern men wait in beautified homes and try to forget death and birth. We're waiting for the realization that this is the golden eternity.

17
It came on time.

[...] Read more

poem by Jack Kerouac
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My Favorite Things

Buy me diamonds and rubies
I'm crazy 'bout bentleys
Gucci dresses and drop top compresses
Wine me and dine me
Bring those platinum rings
Those are a few of our favourite things
Buy me diamonds and rubies
I'm crazy bout bentleys
Gucci dresses and drop top compresses
Wine me and dine me
Bring those platinum rings
Those are a few of our favourite things
What i need is a gentleman
Who does the best he can
There to hold my hand
I want you to understand
Of course i want diamonds and expensive things
Cause a girl's gotta have her favourite things
Oh, that's what you like nice type of life
Platinum at night flat diamond light
Well that's so bright
You looking right ass kinda tight
Don't spend the night
Roll with the g, oh we could be right you and me
Like fantasy i'll make you real
So what de deal
Girl tell Randy just how u feel
Buy me diamonds and rubies
I'm crazy bout bentleys
Gucci dresses and drop top compresses
Wine me and dine me
Bring those platinum rings
Those are a few of our favourite things
I would like a man who would
Take care of business
And still have the time to
Take me on a shopping spree
What's mine is yours and what's yours is mine.
With what we have lets put it together and we can shine
I know what you want
And i got what you need
I believe you should be rolling with me
I take you around, out on the town
And show you the way that a boy liquors down
Whenever you're ready girl we can go now
And we can do things you don't even know how
I know that you know that i'm feeling your style
So tell me what you do just to make you go wow uh
Buy me diamonds and rubies
I'm crazy bout bentleys

[...] Read more

song performed by Outkast
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Iron Wedding Rings

In these days of peace and money, free to all the Commonweal,
There are ancient dames in Buckland wearing wedding rings of steel;
Wedding rings of steel and iron, worn on wrinkled hands and old,
And the wearers would not give them, not for youth nor wealth untold.

In the days of black oppression, when the best abandoned hope,
And all Buckland crouched in terror of the prison and the rope,
Many fair young wives in Buckland prayed beside their lonely beds
For the absent ones who knew not where to lay their outlawed heads.

But a whisper went through Buckland, to the rebels only known,
That the man across the border had a chance to hold his own.
There were men that came in darkness, quiet, grim and travel-worn,
And, by twos, and threes, the young men stole away to join Kinghorn.

Slipping powder-horns and muskets from beneath the floors and thatch,
There were boys who kissed their mothers ere they softly dropped the latch;
There were hunters' wives in backwoods who sat strangely still and white
Till the dawn, because their men-folk went a-hunting in the night.

But the rebels needed money, and so, through the Buckland hills,
Came again, by night, the gloomy men of monosyllables;
And the ladies gave their jewels to be smuggled out and sold,
And the homely wives of Buckland gave their wedding rings of gold.

And a Buckland smith in secret, and in danger, in his shed
Made them rings of baser metals (from the best he had, to lead),
To be gilt and worn to market, or to meetings where they.prayed,
Lest the spies should get an inkling, and the husbands be betrayed.

Then a silence fell on Buckland; there was peace throughout the land,
And a loyalty that puzzled all the captains in command;
There was too much Law and Order for the men who weren't blind,
And the greatest of the king's men wasn't easy in his mind.

They were hunting rebels, certes, and the troops were understood
To be searching for a stronghold like a needle in a wood;
But whene'er the king was prayed for in the meeting-houses, then
It was strange with how much unction ancient sinners cried "Ah-men!"

Till at last, when all was quiet, through the gloomy Buckland hills
Once again there came those furtive men of monosyllables;
And their message was – "Take warning what the morrow may reveal,
Death and Freedom may be married with a wedding ring of steel."

In the morning, from the marshes, rose the night-mist, cold and damp,
From the shipping in the harbour and the sleeping royal camp;
From the lanes and from the by-streets and the high streets of the town,
And above the hills of Buckland, where the rebel guns looked down.

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Lawson
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Empty Hands

He rode in town on a white horse
With nothing in his hands
He came to gather his people
And take them to their promised land
When he came he knew there would be bloodshed
But still no violence made his plans
He came to fight in a battle
With no guns or money

But with his empty hands
With his empty hands
With his empty hands
With his empty hands

They said hey boy what you lookin'at
As they eyed his dreaded mane
He said my father has sent me
I've come back to reclaim
The children whose hearts
Were so whole and pure
Now it's you who'll die in pain
So they lynched the man
Who fooled the word
And all the children gathered
In his empty hands

In his empty hands
The children ..... empty hands
In his empty hands
With his empty hands
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

song performed by Lenny Kravitz from Let Love Rule
Added by Lucian Velea
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Misery n

Ive been misery n,
Ever since my daddy gone, yeah.
Ive been, honey, Ive been misery n, yes I have, now.
Ever since my, since my daddy gone, gone, gone.
But I believe that it wont,
Baby, it wont be too long,
If I just could hang on,
Yeah, until my, till my misery
Will all be gone.
Whoa, I said my rooms, you know,
Theyre so empty, empty, empty, empty, empty.
Filled up with sadness, sometimes, yeah.
My rooms are so empty, empty, empty, empty.
Child, filled up with sadness, honey, sometimes, sometimes.
Oh well it just, it just moves in,
Like the fog rolls in.
And I find i, well I cant see you, baby,
For my tears.
But Ive tried.
Dont you know Ive tried.
Cried, cried, cried, cried, cried.
Baby now, Ive been missin you.
Oh, Ive been missin you, babe!
Yeah, and it all seems to bother me
Much more that it seems it should be.
So, baby, now, now,
Baby, now, now,
Baby, tell me why,
Does it have to be
Oh, so wrong for me ?
I never thought I could ever want anybody,
No, no, no, never did, I never did.
Why am I feelin so strange ? ? ?
Whoaaaaa, I never, never, never needed nobody, no, no,
But maybe you could help me
Why am I feelin so strange ?
Yeah, an Ive got me a great,
An Ive got a great big bed
With two pillows for my head.
Hey, but lately I been sleepin, sleepin alone.
But Ive tried,
Dont you know Ive tried.
Cried, cried,
You know how Ive cried.
An, an baby, Ive been missin you.
Tried,
Dont you know Ive tried.
Cried,
Cried, cried, cried, cried,
Baby now, Ive been missin you.

[...] Read more

song performed by Janis Joplin
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Source

the Source of ‘Crab Nebula'

'The greats molder in their graves
Their words collect as dust upon their spines
Their hearts do not beat in time with today
and yet, the Spirit calls & you answer
What more can a ‘writer' do'?

(poetic writers are compelled to write
& seldom know why)

Ninth Street

There is a cold water'd house
On a bleak winter'd street
With stale musty stink
Of unwashed sock and sheet
Dirty dishes left still
Standing there in the sink.
Memories drenched in scent
Of kerosene and coal
Christmases without trees
Colored paper or ribbon bows.
Yet ___ there was laughter, warm
and yes ___ love
Her making toast over-done
and coffee too thin for him.
Poverty of wage and things
Cannot suppress the hope
Of loves gentle kiss
As passions
Became a foggy mist
Of what could have been
Instead of what is.

(Genetic Memory of Life before I was)

Curmudgeon

(I did not ask to be born)

Knowing why, doesn't make the search go away
Knowing how, doesn't mean you can stop
There are alternative ways, different days
No one gets to stay forever

There are traps
There are walls

[...] Read more

poem by Donald Goodside
Added by Poetry Lover
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In Memoriam (A Child Missed)

A desk lies empty
A missing face to find
A child soon missed by some
Another life consumed by one

A classmate questioned
A missing child to find
While a desk lies empty
A hope dwindles with time

As a child's life once abound
A child's fate is now found
While a desk lies empty
A lifeless child is found

As questions of why arise
A time for tears to flow
While a desk lies empty
A prayer for a missed child we know

A quiet voice to miss
A child missed we know
While a desk lies empty
A question of why to know

A future now not to be
A tragic loss we are told
While a desk lies empty
An answer of why yet untold

A myriad of lives changed
Another youthful innocent lost
While a desk lies empty
At a life's innocence cost

A society believed so rich
And yet a life's worth so poor
While a desk lies empty
Another child's life's no more

A time to ponder a commitment
A life's question to answer
While a desk lies empty...

poem by Robert John Meehan
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Hollow Nature Of Being

WALL I:

inside an empty room lies an empty box
and in that box is a four walled inside room within-
on each of the four walls is a mirror reflecting
the deep desertion of the next
and distant within each wall is another
echoing & spiraling back into infinite repetition
with nothing or no one except the physical entities
bearing back upon each other.

WALL II:

an empty room in an empty house
the house itself has no physical attributes because it
was built in a barren field-
there are no animals, no trees,
no beings of any kind
roaming around the house whose image cannot be
imagined,
at best, know that this house in fact
“housed” the room in question,
as any house might any room.

WALL III:

such a barren field stretches to all four corners
carrying itself out beyond the periphery
curling back in on the other side,
and walking in any direction will bring one back to the
beginning-
the barren field that reveals the empty house that
encapsulates the empty room is the most integral point of
reference within the endless flat plain of grass.

WALL IV:

endless flat plains of grass flowing out in all directions covering
the circumference of the area around the empty house residing in
the middle of the plain wherein
the inside of the empty house holds the
empty room & in the
room,

[...] Read more

poem by Andrew Delapruch
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A Last Confession

Our Lombard country-girls along the coast
Wear daggers in their garters: for they know
That they might hate another girl to death
Or meet a German lover. Such a knife
I bought her, with a hilt of horn and pearl.
Father, you cannot know of all my thoughts
That day in going to meet her,—that last day
For the last time, she said;—of all the love
And all the hopeless hope that she might change
And go back with me. Ah! and everywhere,
At places we both knew along the road,
Some fresh shape of herself as once she was
Grew present at my side; until it seemed—
So close they gathered round me—they would all
Be with me when I reached the spot at last,
To plead my cause with her against herself
So changed. O Father, if you knew all this
You cannot know, then you would know too, Father,
And only then, if God can pardon me.
What can be told I'll tell, if you will hear.
I passed a village-fair upon my road,
And thought, being empty-handed, I would take
Some little present: such might prove, I said,
Either a pledge between us, or (God help me!)
A parting gift. And there it was I bought
The knife I spoke of, such as women wear.
That day, some three hours afterwards, I found
For certain, it must be a parting gift.
And, standing silent now at last, I looked
Into her scornful face; and heard the sea
Still trying hard to din into my ears
Some speech it knew which still might change her heart,
If only it could make me understand.
One moment thus. Another, and her face
Seemed further off than the last line of sea,
So that I thought, if now she were to speak
I could not hear her. Then again I knew
All, as we stood together on the sand
At Iglio, in the first thin shade o' the hills.
“Take it,” I said, and held it out to her,
While the hilt glanced within my trembling hold;
“Take it and keep it for my sake,” I said.
Her neck unbent not, neither did her eyes
Move, nor her foot left beating of the sand;
Only she put it by from her and laughed.
Father, you hear my speech and not her laugh;
But God heard that. Will God remember all?
It was another laugh than the sweet sound
Which rose from her sweet childish heart, that day
Eleven years before, when first I found her

[...] Read more

poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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