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Flexitime for Friend Denis joe

A blank faced clock which has no hands
must still obey Chronos’ commands.
The minutes pass without display.
Times moves on inexorably
the hours passing speedily
Today replaces yesterday.
Why are men obsessed by the clock
they measure every tick and tock.
What does it matter anyway?
we know that darkness rules the night
and that the day is filled by light.
Some time to sleep and work or play.
Avid clock watchers fail to see
that time can pass variably.

4-May-08

http: //Blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Cuckoo Clock

We knew it must have been late
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
We had no time to wait
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I went to light the fireplace
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I planned it all this way, and
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I snuggled close to her
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
Her heart began to purr
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I held my breath inside, and then
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I put my arms around her
(tick-tock)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo
I put that birdie away
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
His cuckoo was gone to stay
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
We both apologized for why
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
Forgave that doggone cuckoo
I went back to her side
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I had to swallow my pride
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
The fire had almost died away
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
We just got situated
(tick-tock)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo
I took that clock apart
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
I broke the cuckoos heart
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
Hell never bother us again
(tick-tock, tick-tock)
We just forgot about him
(tick-tock)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)
Cuckoo, cuckoo (go away silly bird)

[...] Read more

song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pleading For More Time

I fear...
The ticking of a clock heard.
Tick-tock-a-tick-tick-tick tock,
a-tick tock.
I fear...
The ticking of a clock heard.
Tick-tock-a-tick-tick-tick tock,
a-tick tock.
I fear...
The ticking of a clock heard.
Tick-tock-a-tick-tick-tick tock,
a-tick tock.
And I don't want to be the one,
Pleading for more time.
And I don't want to be the one,
With a trying of time to find...
When it's gone!

I fear...
The ticking of a clock heard.
Tick-tock-a-tick-tick-tick tock,
a-tick tock.
I fear...
The ticking of a clock heard.
Tick-tock-a-tick-tick-tick tock,
a-tick tock.
I fear...
The ticking of a clock heard.
Tick-tock-a-tick-tick-tick tock,
a-tick tock.
And I don't want to be the one,
Pleading for more time.
And I don't want to be the one,
With a trying of time to find...
When it's gone!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Monitored or Not It Just Becomes Hypnotic

People think that happiness will come and just sit.
Just sit!
Just sit!
People think that happiness will come and just sit.
Just sit!
Just sit!
Like the hands of a clock that tocks with a tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
And the running and humming becomes toxic.
Toxic.
Toxic.
And nothing exotic will make this erotic.
Monitored or not it just becomes hypnotic.
And people who want what they want wont stop!
Like the hands of a clock that ticks with a tock!
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Or the chopping heard of meat on a butcher's block!
Sssshop chop.
Sssshop chop.
Sssshop chop.
Sssshop chop!
People like their beef stewed nice and hot!

And nothing exotic will make this erotic.
Monitored or not it just becomes hypnotic.
And people who want what they want wont stop!
Like the hands of a clock that ticks with a tock!
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.

People think that happiness will come and just sit.
Just sit!
Just sit!
People think that happiness will come and just sit.
Just sit!
Just sit!
Like the hands of a clock that tocks with a tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
Tock tick.
And the running and humming becomes toxic.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Clockwork Creep

Im a clockwork creep
And I cant get to sleep
They wind me up and let me go
And I cant unwind
Going out of my mind
My time is coming soon you know
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Im a jumbo jet
With a brand new set
Of passengers and bags and crew
Ill spread my wings -
Do a thousand things
To prove how good I am to you
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Meanwhile in the cargo of escargot
The temperature is rising
Advertising that our time is running
Down, down, down, down, down
Oh with just one minute to live
Oh, no youll never get me up in one of these again
'cos what goes up must come
Down, down, down, down, down
Down, down, down, down, down
Oh, the gravity of the situation
Its only my willpower
That keeps this thing in operation
But were gonna crash thats for certain
The pilot is too busy flirtin
And he aint aware
That theres a bomb down there
And if he dont do something its curtains
Now just hold on,
Said the little bomb,
If you were just to hold my hands
Then time would stop
The plot would flop
And jumbo would be safe to land
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
Tick a tick a time bomb
My landings are the envy
Of sabena and pan am
From chattanooga to japan

[...] Read more

song performed by 10 Cc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sequel to Grandfather's Clock

Once again have I roamed thro' the old-fashioned house,
Where my grandfather spent his ninety years.
There are strangers in charge, and the change they have wrought--
Oh! it saddens me, even to tears.
Dear old clock! when they found you were speechless from grief,
Then they went and swapped you off, case and all.
For that vain, stuck-up thing
(tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick),
For that vain, stuck-up thing on the wall.

Grandfather sleeps in his grave;
Strange steps resound in the hall!
And there's that vain, stuck-up thing
(tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick),
There's that vain, stuck-up thing on the wall.

While we talked of the old clock they all ran it down.
Tho' they claimed that it couldn't be made to run.
It was useless they said-- it was quite out of style;
Built, no doubt, just about the year One.
And the words echoed round, with a faint, mocking sound,
As if some one gave assent to it all;
'Twas that vain, stuck-up thing
(tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick),
'Twas that vain, stuck-up thing on the wall.

From the clock-peddler's cart in the junk-shop it went,
Where its cog-wheels were sundered one be one;
And the brass-founder joked as they writhed in the flames--
"Melt'em up," says he; "then they will run."
There is grief in my heart, there are tears in my eyes.
Yet indignantly the sight I recall
Of that vain, stuck-up thing
(tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick),
For that vain, stuck-up thing on the wall.

"An extremely hard case!" said the junk-dealer's wife,
As she carried it for kindling wood and sighed--
That mahogany case, with its quaint, figured face,
Which so long was my grandfather's pride.
"There is hope for the small; there's a change for us all;
For the mighty ones of Time, they must fall!"
Says that vain, stuck-up thing
(tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick),
Says that vain, stuck-up thing on the wall.

poem by Henry Clay Work
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Grand-Father's Clock

My grand-father's clock was too large for the shelf,
So it stood ninety years on the floor;
It was taller by half than the old man himself,
Though it weighed not a penny weight more.
It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born,
And was always his treasure and pride;
But it stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.

Ninety years, without slumbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
His life seconds numbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
It stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.

In watching its pendulum swing to and fro,
Many hours had he spent while a boy;
And in childhood and manhood the clock seemed to know
And to share both his grief and his joy.
For it struck twenty-four when he entered at the door,
With a blooming and beautiful bride;
But it stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.

Ninety years, without slumbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
His life seconds numbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
It stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.

My grandfather said that of those he could hire,
Not a servant so faithful he found;
For it wasted no time, and had but one desire --
At the close of each week to be wound.
And it kept in its place -- not a frown upon its face,
And its hands never hung by its side;
But it stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.

Ninety years, without slumbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
His life seconds numbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
It stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.

It rang an alarm in the dead of the night --
An alarm that for years had been dumb;
And we knew that his spirit was pluming for flight --
That his hour of departure had come.
Still the clock kept the time, with a soft and muffled chime,
As we silently stood by his side;
But it stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Clay Work
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Frantic

If i could have my wasted days back
Would i use them to get back on track?
Stop to warm at karmas burning
Or look ahead, but keep on turning
Do I have the strength
To know how i'll go?
Can i find it inside
To deal with what a shouldn't know?
Could i have my wasted days back
Would i use them to get back on track?
You live it or lie it!(You live it or lie it)
My lifestile Determines my deathsstile
(My lifestile determines my deathstile)
Keep searching, keep on shearching
This serch gose on, this serch gose on
Frantic tick tick tick tick tick tick tock
Frantic tick tick tick tick tick tick tock
I've worn out always being afraid
An endless stream of fear that I've made
You live it or lie it!(you live it or lie it!)
My lifestile determines my deathstile
(my lifestile determines my deathstile)
Keep serching, keep on serching
This serch gose on, this serch gose on, on and on
Frantic tick tick tick tick tick tick tock
Frantic tick tick tick tick tick tick tock
My life style (Birth is pain)
Determines my deathstile (Life is pain)
A rising tide (death is pain)
that pushes to the other side (Its all the same)

song performed by Metallica
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tick, Tick, Bang

Ooh, I cant hold it
Ow! bang, b-b-bang, bang
Bang.
U, yeah.
Ure such a big tease, u get me all excited,
All excited then u go home.
Ure like ice cream,
Knew I got 2 getcha, got 2 getcha, before ure all gone.
Ure such a bombshell,
And if I ever get ya, ever get ya, ever get ya,
Theres no telling how long Id last
Before I tick, tick bang all over u
Tick, tick-a-tick, bang, bang all over u
Tick, tick-a-tick, bang, bang, bang, tick, bang, bang
U aint no cheap thrill,
Every time u tick Id rather u bang,
But u leave me in a fire sweat (leave me in a fire sweat)
Ure like a good pill
All I need is 2, and Im so into u, ure the best stuff that I could get.
Ure such a bombshell
If I ever get ya, ever get ya, ever get ya,
Theres no telling how long Id last.
Before I tick, tick, bang, all over u
All over u, tick, all over u, tick, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang
Ooh, I cant hold it. ooh, its getting all over me.
Ooh, I cant hold it. ooh, its getting all over me.
Ure such a queen bee
Let me taste your honey, taste your honey, taste your honey, 4 it go bad
Youre so slippery
Like this chain around my hip, I want a 24k relationship.
So baby dont spit me out, tick, tick, bang, all over u.
Tick, tick-a-tick, bang
Ooh, I cant hold it. ooh, its getting all over me.
Ure such a bombshell
If I ever get ya, ever get ya, ever get ya,
Theres no telling how long Id last.
Before I tick, tick-a-tick, bang, bang, bang, bang, all over u
All over u, bang, all over u, tick, tick, bang, all over u
Tick, tick, bang, all over u. tick, tick, bang, all over u
All over, bang, all over, bang, all over, tick, bang

song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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What You Waiting For?

What an amazing time.
What a family.
How did the years go by?
Now it's only me
Tick-tock
Tick-tock
Tick-tock
Tick-tock
Tick-tock
Tick-tock
Tick-tock
Tick-tock
La, la, la, la, la, la, la
Like a cat in heat stuck in a moving car
A scary conversation, shut my eyes, can't find the brake
What if they say that your a climber?
Naturally I'm worried if I do it alone
Who really cares cause it's your life?
You never know it could be great
Take a chance cause you might grow
Oh, oh ohhh
What you waiting
What you waiting
What you waiting
What you waiting
What you waiting for?
What you waiting
What you waiting
What you waiting
What you waiting
What you waiting for?
Tick-tock
Tick-tock
Tick-tock
Tick-tock
Take a chance you stupid hoe
Like an echo pedal you're repeating yourself.
You know it all by heart, why are you standing in one place?
Born to blossom, bloom to perish.
Your moment will run out 'cause of your sex chromosome.
I know its so messed how our society all thinks (for sure)
Life is short, your capable (uh-huh)
Oh, oh ohhh
Look at your watch now
You're still a super hot female
You got your million dollar contract
and they're all waiting for your hot track
What you waiting
What you waiting
What you waiting

[...] Read more

song performed by Gwen Stefani
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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Automation

Tick tock, tick tock,
computer's clock,
steal lady of the night.
She sits alone while birdies flock
to bid her a goodnight.

Tick tock, tick tock,
computer's clock,
the world's automated
and the lady in a metal cloak
will live alone, unaided.

Tick tock, tick tock,
computer's clock,
her hard drive stirs again
and while I type this poem,
so dies my mighty pen.

Tick tock, tick tock,
computer's clock,
so true, so true the fear
that life as we once knew it
has slowly disappeared.

Tick tock, tick tock,
computer's clock
we victims of our time.
The last bird flies above us
while all of nature dies.

poem by Ruth Walters
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School's Out

Watching the ticking of the clock,
Tick-tock tick-tock
The clock that counts our days away.
Tick-tock tick-tock
Two minutes left and shrinking fast.
Tick-tock tick-tock
It’s summer time and school is out!

Thank you Sir for teaching us
Another year is gone.
Thank you Miss for showing us
The meaning of those songs.
Summer’s here, summer’s here,
School is out, school is out.
Although we’re glad it’s holidays
Thank you for the year!

Heavy feet trudging through
The sweet smelling grass.
A sneeze, a speck of hay fever,
Blame it on the class.
A fire bell with lots of groans,
Hurry up, we want to go home,
Ticks on registrations chart
Jimmy, here ma’am, no it’s Mark!

Yes Sir no Sir, three bags full Sir.
Left right, left right.
Emily, Amy, quiet now!
Tick-tock tick-tock
I’m too hot in here now Miss!
Tick-tock tick-tock
Sssshhh, there’s only seconds left.

Thank you Sir for teaching us
Another year is gone.
Thank you Miss for showing us
The meaning of those songs.
Summer’s here, summer’s here,
School is out, school is out.
Although we’re glad it’s holidays
Thank you for the year!

It's now the summer,
School is out,
The last day gone with and enormous shout.
Some of us you'll see again,
Some of us you won't.
But the thing that we want you to know is
Thank you for the year!

poem by Thistle Wargul
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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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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Tickity Tick Tock

can't sleep.
don't sleep.
won't sleep.
shan't sleep.
never sleep.
never sleep.
never sleep.
tick tock
tick tock
tickity tick
tock
tock
tock
the little hand drills a hole into my tired mind.
can't
tick
don't
tock
won't
tick
shan't
tock
never
tick
nev er
tock
never sleep
the clock keeps ticking
as my mind struggles to keep up
too many ticks.
too many tocks.
the clock's too loud
it echos through the silent night
too many thoughts
all at once
i need them on paper
scribble
tick
scribble
tock
that fucking clock
it never fucking stops
i cant fucking sleep.
a dog barks
tick
a car screeches
tock
a horse neighs...what?
i can't be that tired
i can't be hallucinating

[...] Read more

poem by Elsa Bear
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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Yesterday's Hymn

(K.J.Garside C.Gray)
Ten planes falling from the sky,
The setting sun leaves no trace,
My name was written in the sky,
But now there is no trace.
Yesterday's hymn serves me not,
Tick tock tick tock tick tock.
Shadow faces reaching for me,
Pretending they know what's best for me,
But I know that I am their experiment,
I scare myself with paranoid talk.
Yesterday's hymn serves me not,
Tick tock tick tock tick tock.
I try to keep the whispered words at bay,
For they seem to feed into the mire,
I've lost all ability to make any choices,
I'm teetering in purgatory.
Yesterday's hymn serves me not,
Tick tock tick tock tick tock.

song performed by Queen Adreena
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Secular Masque

Enter JANUS
JANUS
Chronos, Chronos, mend thy pace,
An hundred times the rolling sun
Around the radiant belt has run
In his revolving race.
Behold, behold, the goal in sight,
Spread thy fans, and wing thy flight.

Enter CHRONOS, with a scythe in his hand, and a great globe on his back,
which he sets down at his entrance

CHRONOS
Weary, weary of my weight,
Let me, let me drop my freight,
And leave the world behind.
I could not bear
Another year
The load of human-kind.

Enter MOMUS Laughing

MOMUS
Ha! ha! ha! Ha! ha! ha! well hast thou done,
To lay down thy pack,
And lighten thy back.
The world was a fool, e'er since it begun,
And since neither Janus, nor Chronos, nor I,
Can hinder the crimes,
Or mend the bad times,
'Tis better to laugh than to cry.

Cho. of all

------------------------------------- --------------------------------------
'Tis better to laugh than to cry

JANUS
Since Momus comes to laugh below,
Old Time begin the show,
That he may see, in every scene,
What changes in this age have been,

CHRONOS
Then Goddess of the silver bow begin.

Horns, or hunting-music within Enter DIANA
DIANA
With horns and with hounds I waken the day,

[...] Read more

poem by John Dryden
Added by Poetry Lover
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Tick

I feel a tick in my head and hes sucking on my head
In the morning Ill be dead if he doesnt leave my head
Why cant he go away why does he have to stay
Maybe he wanna play but I can only say
That Ill get you, Ill burn you, Ill crush you, Ill flush you (down, down)
The toilet where youll spiral (around-round)
Awww, tick -- mmm tick tick tick -- brr tick
I tried to get rid of my plague but I left some of his leg
And he grew back pretty quick so I stabbed the little prick
But now I cut my head -- in the morning Ill be dead
But even after still hell find someone to kill
And hell get you, Ill burn you, Ill crush you, Ill flush you (down, down)
The toilet where youll spiral (around-round)
Awww, tick -- mmm tick tick tick -- brr tick
Awww, tick -- mmm tick tick tick -- brr tick
Awww, tick -- mmm tick tick tick -- brr tick

song performed by Ween
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto I

THE ARGUMENT

The Knight and Squire resolve, at once,
The one the other to renounce.
They both approach the Lady's Bower;
The Squire t'inform, the Knight to woo her.
She treats them with a Masquerade,
By Furies and Hobgoblins made;
From which the Squire conveys the Knight,
And steals him from himself, by Night.

'Tis true, no lover has that pow'r
T' enforce a desperate amour,
As he that has two strings t' his bow,
And burns for love and money too;
For then he's brave and resolute,
Disdains to render in his suit,
Has all his flames and raptures double,
And hangs or drowns with half the trouble,
While those who sillily pursue,
The simple, downright way, and true,
Make as unlucky applications,
And steer against the stream their passions.
Some forge their mistresses of stars,
And when the ladies prove averse,
And more untoward to be won
Than by CALIGULA the Moon,
Cry out upon the stars, for doing
Ill offices to cross their wooing;
When only by themselves they're hindred,
For trusting those they made her kindred;
And still, the harsher and hide-bounder
The damsels prove, become the fonder.
For what mad lover ever dy'd
To gain a soft and gentle bride?
Or for a lady tender-hearted,
In purling streams or hemp departed?
Leap'd headlong int' Elysium,
Through th' windows of a dazzling room?
But for some cross, ill-natur'd dame,
The am'rous fly burnt in his flame.
This to the Knight could be no news,
With all mankind so much in use;
Who therefore took the wiser course,
To make the most of his amours,
Resolv'd to try all sorts of ways,
As follows in due time and place

No sooner was the bloody fight,
Between the Wizard, and the Knight,

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poem by Samuel Butler
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