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Dearest Man-in-the-Moon

Dearest man-in-the-moon,
ever since our lunch of cheese
& moonjuice
on the far side of the sun,
I have walked the craters of New York,
a trail of slime
ribboning between my legs,
a phosphorescent banner
which is tied to you,
a beam of moonlight
focused on your navel,
a silver chain
from which my body dangles,
& my whole torso chiming
like sleigh bells in a Russian novel.

Dearest man-on-the-moon,
I used to fear moonlight
thinking her my mother.
I used to dread nights
when the moon was full.
I used to scream
'Pull down the shade!'
because the moonface leered at me,
because I felt her mocking,
because my fear lived in me
like rats in a wheel of cheese.

You have eaten out my fear.
You have licked
the creamy inside of the moon.
You have kissed
the final crescent of my heart
& made it full.

poem by Erica Jong
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The Bells

I

Hear the sledges with the bells-
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

II

Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten-golden notes,
And an in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

III

Hear the loud alarum bells-
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,

[...] Read more

poem by Edgar Allan Poe
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Chain Of Fools (feat. Pointer Sisters)

Clint Black & The Pointer Sisters
Chain chain chains (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chains (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain
Chain of fools
For four long years
I thought you were my man
But I found out
I'm just a link in your chain.
You got me where you want me
I ain't nothin but your fool
You treated me mean
Oh, you treated me cruel.
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain of fools
Every chain
Has got a weak link
I might be weak child
Oh, but I'll give you strength.
OOh. OOh.
You told me to leave you alone
My mother said, come on home
My doctor said, take it easy
But your lovin' is much too strong
I'm added to your.
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain
Chain of fools.
--- Instrumental ---
One of these mornings
That chain is gonna break
But up until then
I'm goin'a take all I can take, oh yeah.
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain
Chain of fools.
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain
Chain of fools, oh yeah...
--- Instrumental with oops till fade ---

song performed by Clint Black
Added by Lucian Velea
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L'envoi

There's a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield,
And the ricks stand gray to the sun,
Singing: -- "Over then, come over, for the bee has quit the clover,
And your English summer's done."
You have heard the beat of the off-shore wind,
And the thresh of the deep-sea rain;
You have heard the song -- how long! how long?
Pull out on the trail again!

Ha' done with the Tents of Shem, dear lass,
We've seen the seasons through,
And it's time to turn on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,
Pull out, pull out, on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new.

It's North you may run to the rime-ringed sun,
Or South to the blind Horn's hate;
Or East all the way into Mississippi Bay,
Or West to the Golden Gate;
Where the blindest bluffs hold good, dear lass,
And the wildest tales are true,
And the men bulk big on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,
And life runs large on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new.

The days are sick and cold, and the skies are gray and old,
And the twice-breathed airs blow damp;
And I'd sell my tired soul for the bucking beam-sea roll
Of a black Bilbao tramp;
With her load-line over her hatch, dear lass,
And a drunken Dago crew,
And her nose held down on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail
From Cadiz Bar on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new.

There be triple ways to take, of the eagle or the snake,
Or the way of a man with a maid;
But the fairest way to me is a ship's upon the sea
In the heel of the North-East Trade.
Can you hear the crash on her bows, dear lass,
And the drum of the racing screw,
As she ships it green on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,
As she lifts and 'scends on the Long Trail --
the trail that is always new?

See the shaking funnels roar, with the Peter at the fore,
And the fenders grind and heave,
And the derricks clack and grate, as the tackle hooks the crate,
And the fall-rope whines through the sheave;
It's "Gang-plank up and in," dear lass,
It's "Hawsers warp her through!"
And it's "All clear aft" on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,
We're backing down on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new.

[...] Read more

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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The Long Trail

There's a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield,
And the ricks stand grey to the sun,
Singing: "Over then, come over, for the bee has quit the dover,
"And your English summer's done."
You have heard the beat of the off-shore wind,
And the thresh of the deep-sea rain;
You have heard the song -- how long? how long?
Pull out on the trail again!
Ha' done with the Tents of Shem, dear lass,
We've seen the seasons through,
And it's time to turn the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,
Pull out, pull out, on the Long Trail-the trail that is always new!

It's North you may run to the rime-ringed sun
Or South to the blind Hom's hate;
Or East all the way into Mississippi Bay,
Or West to the Golden Gate --
Where the blindest bluffs hold good, dear lass,
And the wildest tales are true,
And the men bulk big on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,
And life runs large on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new.

The days are sick and cold, and the skies are grey and old
And the twice-breathed airs blow damp;
And I'd sell my tired soul for the bucking beam-sea roll
Of a black Bilbao tramp,
With her load-line over her hatch, dear lass,
And a drunken Dago crew,
And her nose held down on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail
From Cadiz south on the Long Trail-the trail that is always new.

There be triple ways to take, of the eagle or the snake,
Or the way of a man with a maid;
But the sweetest way to me is a ship's upon the sea
In the heel of the North-East Trade.
Can you hear the crash on her brows, dear lass.
And the drum of the racing screw,
As she ships it green on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,
As she lifts and 'scends on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new?

See the shaking funnels roar, with the Peter at the fore,
And the fenders grind and heave,
And the derricks clack and grate, as the tackle hooks the crate,
And the fall-rope whines through the sheave;
It's "Gang-plank up and in," dear lass,
It's "Hawsers warp her through!"
And it's "All clear aft" on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,
We're backing down on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new.

O the mutter overside, when the port-fog holds us tied,

[...] Read more

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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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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New York City

Standing on the corner, just me and yoko ono,
We was waiting for jerry to land.
Up come a man with a guitar in his hand,
Singing, have a marijuana, if you can.
His name was david peel and we found that he was real,
He sang, the pope smokes dope evryday.
Up come a policeman, shoved us of the street,
Singing, power to the people today.
New york city!
New york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey! hey!
Well, down to maxs, kansas city, got down the nitty gritty
With the elephants memory band.
Laid something down as the news spread around
About the plastic ono elephants memory band.
Well, we played some funky boogie, and laid some tutti fritti,
Singing, long tall sallys a man.
Up come a preacher man, tryin to be a teacher,
Singing, gods a red herring in drag!
New york city!
New york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Ha! ha!
Hey! hey! hey! hey!
Hey!
Oh yeah!
Hey! new york city!
Alright, new york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey! hey!
Well, we did the staten island ferry, making movies for the telly,
Played the fillmore and apollo for freedom.
Tried to shake our image, just a-cycling through the village,
But we found that we had left it back in london.
Well, nobody came to bug us, hustle us or shove us,
We decided to make it our home.
If the man wants to shove us out, we gonna jump and shout,
The statue of liberty said, come!
New york city!
New york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?

[...] Read more

song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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New York City

Standing on the corner, just me and yoko ono,
We was waiting for jerry to land.
Up come a man with a guitar in his hand,
Singing, have a marijuana, if you can.
His name was david peel and we found that he was real,
He sang, the pope smokes dope evryday.
Up come a policeman, shoved us of the street,
Singing, power to the people today.
New york city!
New york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey! hey!
Well, down to maxs, kansas city, got down the nitty gritty
With the elephants memory band.
Laid something down as the news spread around
About the plastic ono elephants memory band.
Well, we played some funky boogie, and laid some tutti fritti,
Singing, long tall sallys a man.
Up come a preacher man, tryin to be a teacher,
Singing, gods a red herring in drag!
New york city!
New york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Ha! ha!
Hey! hey! hey! hey!
Hey!
Oh yeah!
Hey! new york city!
Alright, new york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Hey! hey!
Well, we did the staten island ferry, making movies for the telly,
Played the fillmore and apollo for freedom.
Tried to shake our image, just a-cycling through the village,
But we found that we had left it back in london.
Well, nobody came to bug us, hustle us or shove us,
We decided to make it our home.
If the man wants to shove us out, we gonna jump and shout,
The statue of liberty said, come!
New york city!
New york city!
New york city!
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?

[...] Read more

song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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The House Of Dust: Complete

I.

The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.

And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.

'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.

We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .

Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.

Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.

Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.

II.

[...] Read more

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Give Your Heart To The Hawks

1 he apples hung until a wind at the equinox,

That heaped the beach with black weed, filled the dry grass

Under the old trees with rosy fruit.

In the morning Fayne Fraser gathered the sound ones into a

basket,

The bruised ones into a pan. One place they lay so thickly
She knelt to reach them.

Her husband's brother passing
Along the broken fence of the stubble-field,
His quick brown eyes took in one moving glance
A little gopher-snake at his feet flowing through the stubble
To gain the fence, and Fayne crouched after apples
With her mop of red hair like a glowing coal
Against the shadow in the garden. The small shapely reptile
Flowed into a thicket of dead thistle-stalks
Around a fence-post, but its tail was not hidden.
The young man drew it all out, and as the coil
Whipped over his wrist, smiled at it; he stepped carefully
Across the sag of the wire. When Fayne looked up
His hand was hidden; she looked over her shoulder
And twitched her sunburnt lips from small white teeth
To answer the spark of malice in his eyes, but turned
To the apples, intent again. Michael looked down
At her white neck, rarely touched by the sun,
But now the cinnabar-colored hair fell off from it;
And her shoulders in the light-blue shirt, and long legs like a boy's
Bare-ankled in blue-jean trousers, the country wear;
He stooped quietly and slipped the small cool snake
Up the blue-denim leg. Fayne screamed and writhed,
Clutching her thigh. 'Michael, you beast.' She stood up
And stroked her leg, with little sharp cries, the slender invader
Fell down her ankle.

Fayne snatched for it and missed;

Michael stood by rejoicing, his rather small

Finely cut features in a dance of delight;

Fayne with one sweep flung at his face

All the bruised and half-spoiled apples in the pan,

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Slime Creatures From Outer Space

Things just havent been the same
Since the flying saucer came
Now the aliens are on the loose
Well, we tried to hold em back
Tried to ward off their attack
But our atom bombs were just no use
They were ugly, they were mean
Biggest heads I ever seen
They made everybody scream and shout
First they leveled tokyo
Then new york was next to go
Boy I really wish theyd cut it out
They wasted everybody on my block
There goes the neighborhood
Theyll zap you with their death ray eyes
And blow you up real good
Run for your lives
(slime creatures from outer space)
(slime creatures from outer space)
Theyre not very nice to the human race
(slime creatures from outer space)
Theres more comin every day
And they just wont go away
Now theyre reproducing in the sewers
They got slimy lizard skin
And an evil lookin grin
And they sure could use some manicures
They got hands all covered with fungus
They got eyes like some kinda bug
I sure hope they dont come in here
I just shampooed the rug
Run for your lives
(slime creatures from outer space)
(slime creatures from outer space)
Theyre really makin a mess of this place.
(slime creatures)
(slime creatures)
(slime creatures from outer space)
(slime creatures from outer space)
(slime creatures from outer space)
(slime creatures from outer space)
(slime creatures from outer space)
(slime creatures from outer space)
Theyll rip your head off just for fun
Theyll paralyze your mind
Theyre wearin out their welcome
I dont think I like their kind
Theyll suck your brain out through a straw
You just cant trust those guys
So hide the children, lock the doors

[...] Read more

song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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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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Narrative And Dramatic The Wanderings Of Oisin

BOOK I

S. Patrick. You who are bent, and bald, and blind,
With a heavy heart and a wandering mind,
Have known three centuries, poets sing,
Of dalliance with a demon thing.

Oisin. Sad to remember, sick with years,
The swift innumerable spears,
The horsemen with their floating hair,
And bowls of barley, honey, and wine,
Those merry couples dancing in tune,
And the white body that lay by mine;
But the tale, though words be lighter than air.
Must live to be old like the wandering moon.

Caoilte, and Conan, and Finn were there,
When we followed a deer with our baying hounds.
With Bran, Sceolan, and Lomair,
And passing the Firbolgs' burial-motmds,
Came to the cairn-heaped grassy hill
Where passionate Maeve is stony-still;
And found On the dove-grey edge of the sea
A pearl-pale, high-born lady, who rode
On a horse with bridle of findrinny;
And like a sunset were her lips,
A stormy sunset on doomed ships;
A citron colour gloomed in her hair,

But down to her feet white vesture flowed,
And with the glimmering crimson glowed
Of many a figured embroidery;
And it was bound with a pearl-pale shell
That wavered like the summer streams,
As her soft bosom rose and fell.

S. Patrick. You are still wrecked among heathen dreams.

Oisin. 'Why do you wind no horn?' she said
'And every hero droop his head?
The hornless deer is not more sad
That many a peaceful moment had,
More sleek than any granary mouse,
In his own leafy forest house
Among the waving fields of fern:
The hunting of heroes should be glad.'

'O pleasant woman,' answered Finn,
'We think on Oscar's pencilled urn,
And on the heroes lying slain

[...] Read more

poem by William Butler Yeats
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Jingle Bells (feat. Expos)

(Duet with Expose)
Jingle Bells
Jingle Bells
Jingle all the way
oh what fun it is to ride
in a one horse open sleigh
Jingle Bells
Jingle Bells
Jingle all the way
oh what fun it is to ride
in a one horse open sleigh
Dashing through the snow
in a one horse open sleigh
over the fields we go
laughing all the way
bells on bop tails ring
making spirts bright
what fun it is to
ride a sleighing song tonight
Jingle Bells
Ji, Jingle Bells
Jingle all the way
oh what fun it is to ride
in a one horse open sleigh
ba la la la bop
Jingle Bells
Ji, Jingle Bells
Jingle all the way
oh what fun it is to ride
in a one horse open sleigh
Dashing through the snow
in a one horse open sleigh
over the fields we go
laughing all the way
bells on bop tails ring
making spirts bright
what fun it is to
ride a sleighing song tonight
Jingle Bells
Jingle Bells
Jingle all the way
oh what fun it is to ride
in a one horse open sleigh
Jingle Bells
Jingle Bells
Jingle all the way
oh what fun it is to ride
in a one horse open sleigh
Jingle Bells
Jingle Bells

[...] Read more

song performed by Barry Manilow
Added by Lucian Velea
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Many Muddied Sluggers Live With Something To Prove

Slime backs,
Who are slime backs...
Will slime back.
On backs.

Slime backs,
Who are slime backs...
Will slime back.
On backs.

Many mud sluggers thowing sludge,
Don't think they're slime backs...
Sliming back.

Those mud sluggers throwing sludge,
Don't think they're slime backs...
Sliming back.

Slime backs,
Who are slime backs...
Will slime back.
On backs.

Slime backs,
Who are slime backs...
Will slime back,
On backs.

Those mud sluggers throwing sludge...
Are slime backs,
Sliming back!

And many muddied sluggers live with something to prove...
Are slime backs,
Sliming back.

Mud sluggers living lives with nothing else to do...
Are slime backs,
Sliming back.

Slime backs,
Who are slime backs...
Will slime back,
On other backs.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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,

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poem by Robinson Jeffers
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New York Times

New york poor new york
New york poor new york
Cars choking your child to death
But you dont wanna see
Cause you only think about yourself
How blind can you be
New york poor new york
Sniper on the rooftop new york
New york poor new york
Not fit for a dog in new york
Everybody bites on the big apple
Leave the hungry in tears
But no one gives a damn no one really cares
How they feel theyre just paper people not real
You need a gun to walk into new york
Now youre broke and youre out on a ledge
Who can help you this time
Now youre down to your very last cent
Still youre askin me who was your friend
I was your friend
New york poor new york
Who turned the lights out in new york
New york poor new york
Just another blackout in new york
Girl dead on the 26th floor
But no one knew her name
Found her body behind the door
Too young for the game
New york poor new york
Devils in the subway new york
New york poor new york
New york poor new york
Talkin talkin talkin - watch out
Harlem touching midtown new york
New york poor new york
Talkin bout new york new york
Moneys getting tighter new york
Theyre burning the bridges to new york

song performed by Cat Stevens
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Troubadour. Canto 2

THE first, the very first; oh! none
Can feel again as they have done;
In love, in war, in pride, in all
The planets of life's coronal,
However beautiful or bright,--
What can be like their first sweet light?

When will the youth feel as he felt,
When first at beauty's feet he knelt?

As if her least smile could confer
A kingdom on its worshipper;
Or ever care, or ever fear
Had cross'd love's morning hemisphere.
And the young bard, the first time praise
Sheds its spring sunlight o'er his lays,
Though loftier laurel, higher name,
May crown the minstrel's noontide fame,
They will not bring the deep content
Of his lure's first encouragement.
And where the glory that will yield
The flush and glow of his first field
To the young chief? Will RAYMOND ever
Feel as he now is feeling?--Never.

The sun wept down or ere they gain'd
The glen where the chief band remain'd.

It was a lone and secret shade,
As nature form'd an ambuscade
For the bird's nest and the deer's lair,
Though now less quiet guests were there.
On one side like a fortress stood
A mingled pine and chesnut wood;
Autumn was falling, but the pine
Seem'd as it mock'd all change; no sign
Of season on its leaf was seen,
The same dark gloom of changeless green.
But like the gorgeous Persian bands
'Mid the stern race of northern lands,
The chesnut boughs were bright with all
That gilds and mocks the autumn's fall.

Like stragglers from an army's rear
Gradual they grew, near and less near,
Till ample space was left to raise,
Amid the trees, the watch-fire's blaze;
And there, wrapt in their cloaks around,
The soldiers scatter'd o'er the ground.

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poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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Tied Up (7' Version)

Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Gulemo Dilemma
Gulemo Dilemma
Tie me up, the city heat
Bring the bell, go down the street
Tie me up to the Babaumba Beat
Try to beat, try to fight
Take me back into the ring tonight
Shake it up, beat down the beat
Shake it up to the Babaumba Heat
It's the African Queen, we got the summer night grand
It's the African Queen, the hottest lady in town
It's the African Queen, who keeps me on my feet
It's the African Queen, the Babaumba Beat
All you need is love
Take my heart
And hold me tight forever, forever
Bombo-yo, ko ko ko bombo ya
Bombo-yo, ko ko ko bombo ya
Bombo-yo, ko ko ko bombo ya
Ring the bell
Roll down the street
Tie me up into the city heat
Take me guys, keep up the beat
Bring the bell into the city heat
Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Gulemo Dilemma
Gulemo Dilemma
Got awaaaaaaaaaay
Got awaaaaaaaaaay
Got awaaaaaaaaaay (de-le-maaaaaa)
(bal-du-ah)
Take me guys, keep up the beat
Bring the bell into the city heat
Got awaaaaaaaaaay eko-ahll-ahhhhhhhhhhhhh
Ring the bell, roll down the street
Tie me up into the city heat

[...] Read more

song performed by Yello
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tied Up (7' Version)

Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Gulemo Dilemma
Gulemo Dilemma
Tie me up, the city heat
Bring the bell, go down the street
Tie me up to the Babaumba Beat
Try to beat, try to fight
Take me back into the ring tonight
Shake it up, beat down the beat
Shake it up to the Babaumba Heat
It's the African Queen, we got the summer night grand
It's the African Queen, the hottest lady in town
It's the African Queen, who keeps me on my feet
It's the African Queen, the Babaumba Beat
All you need is love
Take my heart
And hold me tight forever, forever
Bombo-yo, ko ko ko bombo ya
Bombo-yo, ko ko ko bombo ya
Bombo-yo, ko ko ko bombo ya
Ring the bell
Roll down the street
Tie me up into the city heat
Take me guys, keep up the beat
Bring the bell into the city heat
Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Tied Up, Tied Up
Gulemo Dilemma
Gulemo Dilemma
Got awaaaaaaaaaay
Got awaaaaaaaaaay
Got awaaaaaaaaaay (de-le-maaaaaa)
(bal-du-ah)
Take me guys, keep up the beat
Bring the bell into the city heat
Got awaaaaaaaaaay eko-ahll-ahhhhhhhhhhhhh
Ring the bell, roll down the street
Tie me up into the city heat

[...] Read more

song performed by Yello
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Iliad: Book 24

The assembly now broke up and the people went their ways each to his
own ship. There they made ready their supper, and then bethought
them of the blessed boon of sleep; but Achilles still wept for
thinking of his dear comrade, and sleep, before whom all things bow,
could take no hold upon him. This way and that did he turn as he
yearned after the might and manfulness of Patroclus; he thought of all
they had done together, and all they had gone through both on the
field of battle and on the waves of the weary sea. As he dwelt on
these things he wept bitterly and lay now on his side, now on his
back, and now face downwards, till at last he rose and went out as one
distraught to wander upon the seashore. Then, when he saw dawn
breaking over beach and sea, he yoked his horses to his chariot, and
bound the body of Hector behind it that he might drag it about. Thrice
did he drag it round the tomb of the son of Menoetius, and then went
back into his tent, leaving the body on the ground full length and
with its face downwards. But Apollo would not suffer it to be
disfigured, for he pitied the man, dead though he now was; therefore
he shielded him with his golden aegis continually, that he might
take no hurt while Achilles was dragging him.
Thus shamefully did Achilles in his fury dishonour Hector; but the
blessed gods looked down in pity from heaven, and urged Mercury,
slayer of Argus, to steal the body. All were of this mind save only
Juno, Neptune, and Jove's grey-eyed daughter, who persisted in the
hate which they had ever borne towards Ilius with Priam and his
people; for they forgave not the wrong done them by Alexandrus in
disdaining the goddesses who came to him when he was in his
sheepyards, and preferring her who had offered him a wanton to his
ruin.
When, therefore, the morning of the twelfth day had now come,
Phoebus Apollo spoke among the immortals saying, "You gods ought to be
ashamed of yourselves; you are cruel and hard-hearted. Did not
Hector burn you thigh-bones of heifers and of unblemished goats? And
now dare you not rescue even his dead body, for his wife to look upon,
with his mother and child, his father Priam, and his people, who would
forthwith commit him to the flames, and give him his due funeral
rites? So, then, you would all be on the side of mad Achilles, who
knows neither right nor ruth? He is like some savage lion that in
the pride of his great strength and daring springs upon men's flocks
and gorges on them. Even so has Achilles flung aside all pity, and all
that conscience which at once so greatly banes yet greatly boons him
that will heed it. man may lose one far dearer than Achilles has lost-
a son, it may be, or a brother born from his own mother's womb; yet
when he has mourned him and wept over him he will let him bide, for it
takes much sorrow to kill a man; whereas Achilles, now that he has
slain noble Hector, drags him behind his chariot round the tomb of his
comrade. It were better of him, and for him, that he should not do so,
for brave though he be we gods may take it ill that he should vent his
fury upon dead clay."
Juno spoke up in a rage. "This were well," she cried, "O lord of the
silver bow, if you would give like honour to Hector and to Achilles;

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poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
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