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Nobody returns where he got his finger bitten,.

Bajan proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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Quintetto

[To the tune of "Turning, turning, turning, as wheel goes round."]

RECITATIVE. MR. PAPERSTAMP:

Jack Horner's CHRISTMAS PIE my learned nurse
Interpreted to mean the public purse.
From thence a plum he drew. O happy Horner!
Who would not be ensconced in thy snug corner

THE FIVE:

While round the public board all eagerly we linger,
for what we can get we will try, try, try:
And we'll all have a finger, a finger, a finger,
We'll all have a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE.

MR. FEATHERNEST:

By my own poetic laws, I'm a dealer in applause
For those who don't deserve it, but will buy, buy
So round the court I linger, and thus I get a finget
A finger, finger, finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE.

THE FIVE:

And we'll all have a finger, a finger, a finger,
We'll all have a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE.

MR. VAMP:

My share of pie to win, I will dash through thick and thin
And philosophy and liberty shall fly, fly, fly:
And truth and taste shall know, that their eve Iasting foe
Has a finger, finger, finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE.

THE FIVE:

And we'll all have a finger, a finger, a finger,
We'll all have a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE.

MR. KILLTHEDEAD:

I'll make my verses rattle with the din of war and battle,

[...] Read more

poem by Thomas Love Peacock
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It's Summer and The People Choose to Feel Loose

Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Until the people say they've had quite enough.
Just keep it up and finger poppin'.
Turn the heat up and let them burn the rug.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Don't stop the beat,
When the feet cranks up the fever.

It's Summer and the people choose to feel loose.
With flavor tasted to shake loose a caboose.
And groping sweaty bodies with whomever they choose.

Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Until the people say they've had quite enough.
Just keep it up and finger poppin'.

It's Summer and the people choose to feel loose.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.

With flavor tasted to shake loose a caboose.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Don't stop the beat,
When the feet cranks up the fever.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Do not stop it when it's rockin'.

It's Summer and the people choose to feel loose.
With flavor tasted to shake loose a caboose.
And groping sweaty bodies with whomever they choose.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.

It's Summer and the people choose to feel loose.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.

It's Summer and the people choose to feel loose.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.

It's Summer and the people choose to feel loose.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.

It's Summer and the people choose to feel loose.
Keep it up and finger poppin'.
Do not stop it when it's rockin'.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Put The Finger On You

I put the finger on you
My hands all out of control
I cant stop it getting down on you
Its moving on its own accord
Yes, Ive got fire in my finger tips
Radiating onto you
I cant control it, cant even hold it
Its knocking on your door
And you know what its for
Chorus:
I put the finger right on you
I put the finger right on you
You put your finger on me too
Then I put the finger, I put the finger
Yeah I put the finger, I put the finger
I put the finger on you for sure
Its the key to unlocking your door, dont you know
Ive broken through your security
My hands aint tied no more, you better watch out
I cant control it, cant even hold it
Speaking up for pleasure
You can feel it on your ankle
Feel it on your knee
Feel it on your thigh
Can you feel me?
Chorus
I cant control it, cant even hold it
Sneaking up on your front door
You can feel it on your ankle
Feel it on your knee
Feel it on your thigh
Can you feel me?
Put it - right on you
Ill do it if you want me to
Can I put it?
I put the finger on you
I hit the spot

song performed by AC-DC
Added by Lucian Velea
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Love Is In Control

(finger on the trigger)
(Ive) hung around with big shots
Never knew love was in the sights
I guess I missed the target
Caught up in a different line of fire
But I know since Ive been aiming
For the sweetness in your soul
Your name is on the bullet
And its gettin ready to explode
Theres been a change inside my life
And I just wanna let you know
Ive got my finger on the trigger
Love is in control
Ive got my finger on the trigger
I aint lettin go
Bass line:
Baby, lets have some fun
A wont cha be my, my
Number one
Mama used to tell me
Girl, you better load your gun up right
She said ya, ya gotta come out smokin
Hit it with your best shot every time
Well I didnt understand her
til you walked right into range
I saw your love at twenty paces
And I new Id won the game
You better raise your heart up high
Or love will blow you right away
Ive got my finger on the trigger
Love is in control
Ive got my finger on the trigger
I aint lettin go
Ive got my finger on the trigger
Love is in control
Ive got my finger on the trigger
I aint lettin go
Leave off that safety catch
There aint no risk
Were gonna have some fun
Ive got cha, loves begun
So stay with me
Until the mornin sun
Youre superbullet number one
Bass line:
Baby, lets have some fun
A wont cha be my, my
Number one
Theres been a change inside
My life

[...] Read more

song performed by Donna Summer
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sound Bites

Bitten and spit.
To get a morsel...
Not all of it.
And the folks getting it,
Eat it up!

Not a moment of it wasted,
On providing facts.
Not complete...
For a comprehension to receive it.

Sound bites bitten to scoop the news.
To dropp a little bit to confuse.
Just to extend the taste of what is chewed.
And that's what sound bites bitten done,
Do!

A buffet that's meager,
For a taste to choose.
With a tease that's given.
And a hope what's nibbled makes good news.

Just to extend the taste of what is chewed.
And that's what sound bites bitten done,
Do!

Not a moment of it wasted,
On providing facts.
Not complete...
For a comprehension to receive it.
Bitten and spit.
To get a morsel...
Not all of it.
And the folks getting it,
Eat it up!
And that's what sound bites bitten,
Done...
Do!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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One Heart Feels Finger

One heart feels finger tapping
deep spring of wisdom wide,
one heart feels finger mapping
bright spirit from inside,

One heart beat’s finger beckons
beyond both time and space,
one heart one finger reckons
calm, balm and saving grace.

One heart, one finger, giggle
together in traced hug,
each interlaced reach wriggle
as snug as bug in rug.

One heart with finger sharing
unbroken hopes and trust
one heart on finger wearing
fair token of shared lust.

One kiss surrounds a dimple,
one heals mind’s heart-ache scar
with touch profound as simple
to wish upon a star.

One circle, two shared pulses
grasp how, why, where, when, whence,
one quickens wave, impulses
romance, knows no expense.

One heart feels finger’s passion
trace out horizons blue,
new pastures green none ration
stretch out beyond all view

to marry in their fashion
life’s gleams and dreams come true
here joy, and there compassion,
unite in curlicue

where neither led nor leader
pollute the atmosphere,
where both are fed and feeder
in double helix sphere.

One rhythm understanding
the other’s inner beat
while no reply outstanding
is needed to complete

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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With My Finger Up And Raised

Tired of deceivers,
And the lies they leave...
Yes I am.
Yes I am.

Tired of the thieves,
And corruption of beliefs...
Yes I am.
Yes I am.

Tired of false faces that come.
Tired of those fixed smiles done.
Tired of the running by some...
Of those who say they care!

But not one woe I will do!

Tired of deceivers,
And the lies they leave...
Yes I am.
Yes I am.

Tired of the thieves,
And corruption of beliefs...
Yes I am.
Yes I am.

But not a single woe I will do.
And....
Not a woe I will do will prove...
With my finger up and raised!

Tired of the thieves,
And corruption of beliefs...
Yes I am.
Yes I am.

Tired of deceivers,
And the lies they leave...
Yes I am.
Yes I am.

But not a single woe I will do.
And....
Not a woe I will do will prove.
Or a showing I have had it,
With attitude.
And my finger up and raised!

But not a single woe I will do.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Wrapped Around Your Finger

You consider me the young apprentice
Caught between the Scylla and Charibdes.
Hypnotized by you if I should linger
Staring at the ring around your finger.
I have only come here seeking knowledge,
Things they would not teach me of in college.
I cant see the best in me
That you saw
I'll be wrapped around your finger.
I'll be wrapped around your finger.
Mephistopheles is not your name,
But I know what you're up to just the same.
I will listen hard to your tuition,
And you will see it come to it's fruition.
I'll be wrapped around your finger.
I'll be wrapped around your finger.
Devil and the deep blue sea behind me
Vanish in the air you'll never find me.
I will turn your face to alabaster,
Then you'll find your servant is your master,
And you'll be wrapped around my finger.
I'll be wrapped around your finger.
You'll be wrapped around my finger.
I'll be wrapped around your finger

song performed by Underoath
Added by Lucian Velea
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Wrapped around your finger

You consider me the young apprentice
Caught between the Scylla and Charibdes.
Hypnotized by you if I should linger
Starring at the ring around your finger

I have only come here seeking knowledge
Things they wouldn't teach me of in college
I can see the destiny you sold
Turn into a shining band of hope

I'll be wrapped around your finger
I'll be wrapped around your finger

Nafostaveles is not your name
But I know what you're up to just the same
I will listen hard to your tuition
You will see it come to it's fruition

I'll be wrapped around your finger
I'll be wrapped around your finger

Devil and the deep blue see behind me
Vanish in the air you'll never find me
I will turn you face to alabaster
Then you'll find you're servant is your master

You'll be wrapped around my finger
You'll be wrapped around my finger
You'll be wrapped around my finger

song performed by Green Lizard from Identity
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Am

Well fire it up
Chop one out
Somebody's got to know
That I'm two days in
I got two days left to go
Cause I am Georgia
I am Memphis Tennesee
I am everything
Hollywood wants to be
I am love and I am hate
I'm your late night drunk debate
But you'll never put
Your finger on me
Have you ever seen the sun
Over the rocky mountains shinin
Or touched the sands
Of a southern Florida beach
Have you seen a grown man cry
Or a child that's slowly dying
Have you looked inside
To see al that you can see
And I am North and South Dakota
And New York City
I am everything Hollywood wants
To be
I am love an I am hate
And all the critics can debate
But they will never put a finger
On me
No you'll never put a finger on
Have you seen the northern falls
Or the midwest seasons changing
A Montana storm
Or a warm Kentucky rain
Have you heard the love that sings
Over the inner city sidewalks
Have you risen above
All that leads to hate
And I am Boston and D.C.
And all of Detroit city
I am everything
That Hollywood wants to be
I am southern rock-n-roll
Country and hip hop soul
And you'll never put a finger on me
I'm a father and and I'm a friend
I'm your brother till the end
But you'll never put your finger on me
I am only God knows why
Ill be a cowboy till I die

[...] Read more

song performed by Kid Rock
Added by Lucian Velea
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Can't Put My Finger On It

Is it alive, does it writhe
Can it survive under the sun?
I can't put my finger on it.
Is it green, is it red
Is it alive or is it dead
I can't put my finger on it
Scathe with a lathe
All the days in the past
I can't put my finger on it
Is it brown, is it white
Is it really outta sight
I can't put my finger on it
Can it squeal, does it squirm
If it's fresh will it burn?
I can't put my finger on it
Can it fly, will it try
If the wings are still wet?
I can't put my finger on it
Can it heal, is it real
Can it feel the threads of time?
I can't put my finger on it
Does it glow, will it shine
Does it leave a trail of slime
I can't put my finger on it
Are you surprised when I touch the dwarf inside?
(Repeat three times)
(Repeat first verse

song performed by Ween
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Can't Put My Finger On It

[chanting]
Is it alive, does it writhe
Can it survive under the sun?
I can't put my finger on it
Is it green, is it red
Is it alive or is it dead
I can't put my finger on it
Scathe with a lathe
All the days in the past
I can't put my finger on it
Is it brown, is it white
Is it really outta sight
I can't put my finger on it
Do you know what i'm saying?
Do you know what i'm saying, people?
Can it squeal, does it squirm
If it's fresh will it burn?
I can't put my finger on it
Can it fly, will it try
If the wings are still wet?
I can't put my finger on it
Can it heal, is it real
Can it feel the threads of time?
I can't put my finger on it
Does it glow, will it shine
Does it leave a trail of slime
I can't put my finger on it
I tell you one time...
Are you surprised when i touch the dwarf inside?
(repeat three times)
(repeat first verse)
Ha ha ha...oh yeah, oh yeah!

song performed by Ween
Added by Lucian Velea
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When The Poem Returns Life Returns

WHEN THE POEM RETURNS LIFE RETURNS

When the poem returns life returns
There is enthusiasm and exuberance again
There is something to live for
And dreams are dreams
And hopes give hope-

When the poem returns life returns
And I begin again here
As if there is some sense after all
In writing and living again.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Roll Over

You've gone the same
From day one
Don't think you'll ever change
I have to laugh
Every time you screw it up
Funny how I take the blame
Why is everything designed
To try and get a rise out of me?
Can't believe you never guessed
Only playing second best to ya
You oughta know I'm in control
I ain't gonna just roll over
You think that I'm here to please ya
But you don't even know, oh baby
I got you wrapped around my finger
You're so predictable
Don't open your mouth
Cos everyday you're outta here
So listen up
You think you're baby now
You know you never leave
'Cos I got you by the time
And it takes to realise the truth
I'm using you
And the more you think you won
The stronger I become
You wanna know, I'm in control
I ain't gonna just roll over
You think that I'm here to please ya
But you don't even know, oh baby
I got you wrapped around my finger
I ain't gonna just roll over (roll over)
You think that I'm here to please ya
But you don't even know, oh baby
I got you wrapped around my finger
Why is everything designed
To try and get a rise out of me
But the more you think you won
The stronger I become
You oughta know I'm in control
I got you wrapped around my finger
I got you wrapped around my finger
I ain't gonna just roll over
You think that I'm here to please ya
But you don't even know, oh baby
I got you wrapped around my finger
I ain't gonna just roll over
You think that I'm here to please ya
But you don't even know, oh baby
I got you wrapped around my finger

song performed by Holly Valance
Added by Lucian Velea
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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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Second Book

TIMES followed one another. Came a morn
I stood upon the brink of twenty years,
And looked before and after, as I stood
Woman and artist,–either incomplete,
Both credulous of completion. There I held
The whole creation in my little cup,
And smiled with thirsty lips before I drank,
'Good health to you and me, sweet neighbour mine
And all these peoples.'
I was glad, that day;
The June was in me, with its multitudes
Of nightingales all singing in the dark,
And rosebuds reddening where the calyx split.
I felt so young, so strong, so sure of God!
So glad, I could not choose be very wise!
And, old at twenty, was inclined to pull
My childhood backward in a childish jest
To see the face of't once more, and farewell!
In which fantastic mood I bounded forth
At early morning,–would not wait so long
As even to snatch my bonnet by the strings,
But, brushing a green trail across the lawn
With my gown in the dew, took will and way
Among the acacias of the shrubberies,
To fly my fancies in the open air
And keep my birthday, till my aunt awoke
To stop good dreams. Meanwhile I murmured on,
As honeyed bees keep humming to themselves;
'The worthiest poets have remained uncrowned
Till death has bleached their foreheads to the bone,
And so with me it must be, unless I prove
Unworthy of the grand adversity,–
And certainly I would not fail so much.
What, therefore, if I crown myself to-day
In sport, not pride, to learn the feel of it,
Before my brows be numb as Dante's own
To all the tender pricking of such leaves?
Such leaves? what leaves?'
I pulled the branches down,
To choose from.
'Not the bay! I choose no bay;
The fates deny us if we are overbold:
Nor myrtle–which means chiefly love; and love
Is something awful which one dare not touch
So early o' mornings. This verbena strains
The point of passionate fragrance; and hard by,
This guelder rose, at far too slight a beck
Of the wind, will toss about her flower-apples.
Ah–there's my choice,–that ivy on the wall,
That headlong ivy! not a leaf will grow

[...] Read more

poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Third Book

'TO-DAY thou girdest up thy loins thyself,
And goest where thou wouldest: presently
Others shall gird thee,' said the Lord, 'to go
Where thou would'st not.' He spoke to Peter thus,
To signify the death which he should die
When crucified head downwards.
If He spoke
To Peter then, He speaks to us the same;
The word suits many different martyrdoms,
And signifies a multiform of death,
Although we scarcely die apostles, we,
And have mislaid the keys of heaven and earth.

For tis not in mere death that men die most;
And, after our first girding of the loins
In youth's fine linen and fair broidery,
To run up hill and meet the rising sun,
We are apt to sit tired, patient as a fool,
While others gird us with the violent bands
Of social figments, feints, and formalisms,
Reversing our straight nature, lifting up
Our base needs, keeping down our lofty thoughts,
Head downward on the cross-sticks of the world.
Yet He can pluck us from the shameful cross.
God, set our feet low and our forehead high,
And show us how a man was made to walk!

Leave the lamp, Susan, and go up to bed.
The room does very well; I have to write
Beyond the stroke of midnight. Get away;
Your steps, for ever buzzing in the room,
Tease me like gnats. Ah, letters! throw them down
At once, as I must have them, to be sure,
Whether I bid you never bring me such
At such an hour, or bid you. No excuse.
You choose to bring them, as I choose perhaps
To throw them in the fire. Now, get to bed,
And dream, if possible, I am not cross.

Why what a pettish, petty thing I grow,–
A mere, mere woman,–a mere flaccid nerve,-
A kerchief left out all night in the rain,
Turned soft so,–overtasked and overstrained
And overlived in this close London life!
And yet I should be stronger.
Never burn
Your letters, poor Aurora! for they stare
With red seals from the table, saying each,
'Here's something that you know not.' Out alas,
'Tis scarcely that the world's more good and wise

[...] Read more

poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning from Aurora Leigh (1856)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Task: Book IV. -- The Winter Evening

Hark! ‘tis the twanging horn o’er yonder bridge,
That with its wearisome but needful length
Bestrides the wintry flood, in which the moon
Sees her unwrinkled face reflected bright;—
He comes, the herald of a noisy world,
With spatter’d boots, strapp’d waist, and frozen locks;
News from all nations lumbering at his back.
True to his charge, the close-pack’d load behind,
Yet, careless what he brings, his one concern
Is to conduct it to the destined inn,
And, having dropp’d the expected bag, pass on.
He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch,
Cold and yet cheerful: messenger of grief
Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some;
To him indifferent whether grief or joy.
Houses in ashes, and the fall of stocks,
Births, deaths, and marriages, epistles wet
With tears, that trickled down the writer’s cheeks
Fast as the periods from his fluent quill,
Or charged with amorous sighs of absent swains,
Or nymphs responsive, equally affect
His horse and him, unconscious of them all.
But O the important budget! usher’d in
With such heart-shaking music, who can say
What are its tidings? have our troops awaked?
Or do they still, as if with opium drugg’d,
Snore to the murmurs of the Atlantic wave?
Is India free? and does she wear her plumed
And jewell’d turban with a smile of peace,
Or do we grind her still? The grand debate,
The popular harangue, the tart reply,
The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit,
And the loud laugh—I long to know them all;
I burn to set the imprison’d wranglers free,
And give them voice and utterance once again.

Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast,
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,
And, while the bubbling and loud hissing urn
Throws up a steamy column, and the cups,
That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each,
So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
Not such his evening, who with shining face
Sweats in the crowded theatre, and, squeezed
And bored with elbow points through both his sides,
Outscolds the ranting actor on the stage:
Nor his, who patient stands till his feet throb,
And his head thumps, to feed upon the breath
Of patriots, bursting with heroic rage,
Or placemen, all tranquillity and smiles.

[...] Read more

poem by William Cowper
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When the Lavender Returns

As cold as ice
Wrapped round your brain
And darkness unfolds
You’re breathing in pain

It’s been freezing here
In this Land of Shattered Dreams
It’s been freezing here
This corrupted winter stings

It’s been freezing here
(Où est la Lavande?)
Your body can’t stay warm
(Où est la Lavande?)
It’s been freezing here
(Où est la Lavande?)
This cruel and criminal storm
(Où est la Lavande?)

But don’t give up
Don’t despair
Taste the hope
Floating through the air

When the lavender returns
It’ll warm your frozen bones
Vivid violet clothes
In their candy overtones

When the lavender returns
It’ll race across the land
Rebel flower grows
In the palm of your free hand

If you look out your window
The ground’s parched and bare
If you call for your lover
She’s no longer there
If you ponder your life
Well, it feels like a wreck
And your failures are scars
You can never forget

As leaves turn brown
Sky fades to grey
You’re feeling the drought
The end of the day

It’s been lonely here
In this World of Fallen Souls

[...] Read more

poem by Catman Cohen
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Unwound

Give me a bottle of your very best
cause Ive got a problem Im gonna drink off my chest
Gonna spend the night gettin down
cause that woman I had wrapped around my finger just come unwound
That woman I had wrapped around my finger just come unwound
She kicked me outta the house and tonight Im whiskey-bound
Im gonna be the drunkest fool in town
cause that woman I had wrapped around my finger just come unwound
Well she packed my bags and opened up the door
And I got the feeling she didnt want me around no more
She caught me in a lie, I was messin around
And that woman I had wrapped around my finger just come unwound
That woman I had wrapped around my finger just come unwound
She kicked me outta the house and tonight Im whiskey-bound
Im gonna be the drunkest fool in town
cause that woman I had wrapped around my finger just come unwound

song performed by George Strait
Added by Lucian Velea
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