Stupid, Stupid World Full Of Lies
Stupid, stupid world full of lies, self-deceit, greed,
conspiratorial stinging nettles, leeching bills, vampiric,
cutting off the flow of things like tiger-mussels,
hillbilly hippies beating up their girlfriends on crack,
all these egotistic puff ball mushrooms with labial gills
mythically inflated by one night's good rain
into albino planets, people who have more keys to heaven
than they have locks on hell, abandoned school bells
that go on talking to themselves like wandering scholars
light years after the children grew old at their perennial recess
and the moths and the mice and the mildew
keep putting out books epilogues after everyone's
forgotten how to read the signs of their own decay.
Between the horns of the moon that's been thrown
like a goat skull into the wishing well of my heart,
roadie spiders string my harp for me like false eyelashes
in the green room, and the nerves of the mirrors
are shattered into the frayed deltas of the ropes of hope
endangered elephants are trying to climb up to heaven on.
The thin-skinned blissed-out gardenias of Maharajji
are wilting under the eyeshadow of their Mary K cosmetics
as their rainbows grow vicious as vegan dogs
in a spiritual junkyard of razorwire and foodchains
that have overextended their supply lines like the umbilical cords
of kites and puppets and angels on the strings of arachnids.
Too pure for me. I'd be afraid of getting myself on their floors.
Tracking starmud in from the mindstream I've been floating down
from one neuron to the next, one town to another,
like the new moon of an origami swan in a scenic calendar
of apocalyptic moments in the life of a hand grenade
people keep pulling on like the handle of an empty fridge.
Count me among the Andalusian vandals of the delinquent dragons
who keep writing obscene truths in lampblack and terza rima
on the walls where the flamethrowers post their prophecies.
I was born to burnish gold. I was born to dry the eyes
of weeping diamonds. I was born to wire the rainbow bridges
with satchel charges of fireflies and lightning for demolition
so everybody can learn to swim through stone
like glaciers to the other side of their polarized cataracts.
And whenever I look at a house of worship built on quicksand
I've got to laugh like an avalanche of meteors
at the self-serving lustrations of their pretentious extinctions
as the world blazes all around them like a halo of inflammable hairspray.
I've got holy wars of my own to go to that won't be disarmed
by the soft swords of their beeswax candles surrendering
to such a little flame of life at the tip of a limp wick
that trembles with every breath it takes like a feather in a furnace.
[...] Read more
poem by Patrick White
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[...] Read more
poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Greed and Selflessness
Greed indiscriminately penalizes,
Selflessness is the ultimate panacea; for uniting all
innocuously harmonious; for centuries immemorial and
alike….
Greed baselessly tyrannizes,
Selflessness is an Omnipotent fabric; which
irrefutably transcends you above the resplendent
heavens; to be the unequivocal favorite of the
divine….
Greed ruthlessly snatches,
Selflessness is the only road to everlasting
prosperity; coalescing even the most salaciously
treacherous with the scent of the bountifully
bestowing soil….
Greed manipulatively stagnates,
Selflessness is the most priceless core of enthralling
existence; enlightening unassailable beams of hope; in
all those dwellings miserably impoverished; without
optimism and light….
Greed horrendously massacres,
Selflessness is an Omnisciently miraculous ointment;
which heals the most bizarre wounds of the
overwhelming rich and pathetically destitute; alike…
Greed uncouthly divests,
Selflessness is a enchantingly silken flower; which
disseminates the true spirit of mankind; to even the
most infinitesimal parts; of this fathomless globe….
Greed lethally poisons,
Selflessness is a grandiloquently mesmerizing sky;
which relentlessly showers the blessings of the
Almighty; upon all philanthropically benign….
Greed pulverizes beyond recognition,
Selflessness is a unendingly radiating horizon; which
brilliantly sparkles all night and day; with the
rainbow of unconquerable righteousness….
Greed maliciously obfuscates all truth,
Selflessness is the most Omnipresent harbinger of
celestial peace; unstoppably heading towards the
paradise of scintillating success….
Greed insidiously cripples,
Selflessness is a majestically flapping bird that
[...] Read more
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Tiger
Tiger with coat of dissimilar stripes,
When he’s angry, tiger swipes,
Tiger cautious, guarding his lair,
Danger lurking, tiger aware.
Tiger hungry so he hunts,
Facing quarry, tiger confronts.
Tiger waiting, being sly,
Undercover, no tiger espy.
Tiger detects, now he purrs,
Hunger pangs, tiger stirs.
Tiger quick, must now surprise,
Here we have one tiger, wise.
Tiger from his throat he roars,
Stretching out those tiger claws.
Tiger moving, stealthy pelt,
Expiration, by tiger dealt.
Tiger now with belly filled,
Anger passed, one tiger stilled.
Tiger sleeping, with the Pride,
Craving gone, tiger satisfied.
Tiger such a majestic sight,
Near extinction, tiger fight.
Tiger beautiful and fine,
You’re such a leonine feline.
Tiger we must have respect, ,
For your great tiger intellect.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Fat Fed Leeching People
What they 'really' want?
A more greedier life to live.
What they 'really' hunger for?
Is less from them to give!
A me-me-I-I society...
Hooked on feeding greed.
What they 'really' want?
A more greedier life to live.
What they 'really' hunger for?
Is a leaner 'truth'
To soothe their whims.
Fat fed leeching people,
Poisoned to feed.
Don't understand,
Their demands are fading.
Fat fed leeching people,
Have been led to believe...
Deceptions and lies,
Reflect their real lives.
What they 'really' want?
A more greedier life to live.
What they 'really' hunger for?
Is a less 'truth' than that 'truth'...
Really IS!
Fat fed leeching people,
Want a less truth,
Than that truth...
Really IS!
Fat fed leeching people,
Want a less truth,
Than that truth...
Really IS!
Fat fed leeching people,
Want a less truth,
Than that truth...
Really IS!
AND,
Poisoned to feed...
On a less 'truth'
Than that truth...
Really IS!
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Taming The Tiger
I stepped outside to breathe the air
And stare up at the stars
Big dipper hanging there
Over the rented car
Over the rented car
Im a runaway from the record biz
From the hoods in the hood and the whiny white kids
Boring!
The old man is snoring
And Im taming the tiger
(you cant tame the tiger)
Tiger, tiger burning bright
Nice, kitty kitty
Tiger, tiger burning bright
Sophia says its hard to catch
And harder still to ride
The time to watch the beast the best
Is when its purring at your side
Purring at your side
Accolades and honors
One false move and youre a goner
Boring!
The old man is snoring
And Im taming the tiger
(you cant tame the tiger)
Tiger, tiger burning bright
Nice, kitty kitty
Tiger, tiger burning bright
In the forest of the night
The moon shed light
On my hopeless plight
As the radio blared so bland
Every disc, a poker chip
Every song just a one night stand
Formula music, girly guile
Genuine junkfood for juveniles
Up and down the dial
Mercenary style
I watched the stars chuck down their spears
And a plane went blinking by
And I thought of anna
Wild and dear
Like fireworks in the sky
Fireworks in the sky
Im so sick of this game
Its hip, its hot
Lifes too short, the whole things gotten
Boring!
The old man is snoring
And Im taming the tiger
[...] Read more
song performed by Joni Mitchell
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pipe Song
Care is all stuff:--
Puff! Puff!
To puff is enough:--
Puff! Puff
More musky than snuff,
And warm is a puff:--
Puff! Puff
Here we sit mid our puffs,
Like old lords in their ruffs,
Snug as bears in their muffs:--
Puff! Puff
Then puff, puff, puff,
For care is all stuff,
Puffed off in a puff--
Puff! Puff!
poem by Herman Melville
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The Tale of the Tiger-Tree
A Fantasy, dedicated to the little poet Alice Oliver Henderson, ten years old.
The Fantasy shows how tiger-hearts are the cause of war in all ages. It shows how the mammoth forces may be either friends or enemies of the struggle for peace. It shows how the dream of peace is unconquerable and eternal.
I
Peace-of-the-Hea rt, my own for long,
Whose shining hair the May-winds fan,
Making it tangled as they can,
A mystery still, star-shining yet,
Through ancient ages known to me
And now once more reborn with me: —
This is the tale of the Tiger Tree
A hundred times the height of a man,
Lord of the race since the world began.
This is my city Springfield,
My home on the breast of the plain.
The state house towers to heaven,
By an arsenal gray as the rain...
And suddenly all is mist,
And I walk in a world apart,
In the forest-age when I first knelt down
At your feet, O Peace-of-the-Heart.
This is the wonder of twilight:
Three times as high as the dome
Tiger-striped trees encircle the town,
Golden geysers of foam.
While giant white parrots sail past in their pride.
The roofs now are clouds and storms that they ride.
And there with the huntsmen of mound-builder days
Through jungle and meadow I stride.
And the Tiger Tree leaf is falling around
As it fell when the world began:
Like a monstrous tiger-skin, stretched on the ground,
Or the cloak of a medicine man.
A deep-crumpled gossamer web,
Fringed with the fangs of a snake.
The wind swirls it down from the leperous boughs.
It shimmers on clay-hill and lake,
With the gleam of great bubbles of blood,
Or coiled like a rainbow shell....
I feast on the stem of the Leaf as I march.
I am burning with Heaven and Hell.
II
[...] Read more
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Wat Tyler - Act III
ACT III.
SCENE—SMITHFIELD.
PIERS (meeting JOHN BALL.)
You look disturb'd, my father?
JOHN BALL.
Piers, I am so.
Jack Straw has forced the Tower: seized the Archbishop,
And beheaded him.
PIERS.
The curse of insurrection!
JOHN BALL.
Aye, Piers! our nobles level down their vassals—
Keep them at endless labour like their brutes,
Degrading every faculty by servitude:
Repressing all the energy of the mind.
We must not wonder then, that like wild beasts,
When they have burst their chains, with brutal rage
They revenge them on their tyrants.
PIERS.
This Archbishop!
He was oppressive to his humble vassals:
Proud, haughty, avaricious.—
JOHN BALL.
A true high-priest!
Preaching humility with his mitre on!
Praising up alms and Christian charity
Even whilst his unforgiving hand distress'd
His honest tenants.
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Southey
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Tiger, Tiger
Tiger one to tiger two
Tiger one says I love you
Tiger two does not reply
So tiger one, he starts to cry
Tiger two says why you cry?
Tiger one says 'you did not reply'
Tiger two says I need not to
Tiger one says why?
Tiger two says i love you
Tiger one says i love you too
Tiger one says why oh why?
Why didnt you reply?
Tiger two says I love you
I don't have to say it
You know its true
Now you know the reason why
Tiger two did not reply
Tiger one realises why
Tiger two did not reply
So tiger one he starts to smile
And says tiger two is very fine
For tiger two is my dearest babe
Whome I think of everyday
And tiger two I cannot wait
To see your pretty face again
poem by Mark Eyre
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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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Tiger Woods' His Eagle Has Landed Due To Sex & Buddha?
Amazingly the Eagle has unofficially landed on Wednesday12/02/2009,
An accident early Thanksgiving Day clipped Tiger’s wings in his prime,
What is it that brought down this bird flying above the stars set on high?
Well, lets just say that even in a Cadillac SUV, Eagles should not drive.
The only thing that could even remotely make this mortal an average guy,
No one alive is immune from everyday sins and transgressions here’s why,
The higher you climb the more jealously seals your coffin with a rusty nail,
And his human persona was undermined by an indiscretionary voice mail.
There’s more to this incident but exactly what is the bottom line going to be?
Great as Mr. Woods is he’s no different away from his fame as you and me,
The evil one is equally as busy on millionaires as he is on dollars and cents,
That is right! Whether you own a mansion on in an apartment you owe rent.
Bill Clinton, Monica Lewinsk and the “dress” Eldrick did obviously forget,
The President of the most powerful country had to face the nation in regret,
If only Eve hadn’t eaten the apple there might not have been over 300 text,
Doing what none in the world could do he put a noose around his own neck.
Somewhere there is a phrase about, “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, ”
Being a Stanford grad and past history you would think he was forewarned,
Soon the walls began to crumble, the story leaks, when the end approaches,
Alleged lovers and all the tabloids begin to appear like an army of roaches.
There will be many twists, takes, turns to this incident, here is yet another,
Tiger was estranged from his father Earl for fooling around on his mother,
Okay! Please remember to be careful when you dig a pit for someone else.
Why? Because more often than not you just might fall in that ditch yourself.
Mark 8: 36, 'What shall it profit to gain the whole world and lose your soul? ”
It’s very unfortunate that there’ll be many first hand who will come to know,
So, if you think it is all about money, your title or prestige better think again,
And start with the love of GOD, your family, the church and faithful friends.
Lust has nothing to do with love, just selfishness, control and mucho greed,
I do not want you to have Elin sweetie because I only want you to have me,
But! Now that the cat’s out of the bag I simply have to sell my story honey,
After all sugar it was never really about you it was always about your money.
As these women do talk shows and the covers of Star and People Magazine,
Every strand of hair in place, perfect make-up and teeth professionally clean,
With hankies sobbing, “we’re good girls, not home wreckers” oh yes you are,
And if life was scored like the game of golf you’d all be 2,000+ years over par.
Tiger, Tiger, Tiger the most recognized face on this earth or any other planet,
It’s tame next to the Super Bowl breast of the 2nd most famous Jackson, Janet,
Endorsements have catapulted you to the stratosphere where there is higher loft,
And now you know what all humans know, that there is more to life than golf.
[...] Read more
poem by Luke Easter
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Tiger Woods & The Lynching Noose
What an ugly uproar about the noose around Tiger’s neck,
Growing tighter every single day because he chooses to forget,
A story over 2000 years old about a man and the world He forgave,
Whether you believe it or not it’s only by His sacrifice we are saved.
Am I trying to compare Tiger to Jesus? That would be absurd,
Why is everyone so upset by the saying of the 'lynching' word?
Then again, maybe it is not the word rather it’s the entire phrase,
The only way to keep it going is by talking about it day after day.
Exactly what in the world makes this particular Tiger so great?
The racism he has encountered filling his heart and mind with hate?
That would be impossible growing up with Jack Nickalus on his wall,
Certainly not the way he so gently strokes a short putt on the golf ball.
No, this animal is ferocious because he knows exactly when to attack,
The perfect time to strike and the proper time to relax and hold back,
Worlds number 1, again and again the undisputed player of the year,
What makes this Tiger rise above everyone else is that he has no fear.
Eagles that fly high above don’t spend time on the ground with birds,
So, why should he come down to earth and defend himself over words?
Sure, it was an unfortunate mistake but since Eldrick wants to move on,
Who has the right to make less than five seconds last so very, very long?
If Woods was the kind of person to hold a grudge and harbor pain,
The golfing world or anyone for that matter would not know his name,
Many a promising career has been stifled looking for others to blame,
Here’s another thought, what if Jesus spoke and a thousand angles came?
Slavery is supposedly over but in most minds it can’t be that easy to mend,
For everything that has a beginning there is a middle followed by the end,
OK, Kelly Tilghman said it, she apologized, and this incident is over when?
The exact moment Tiger accepted her responsibility saying, “She’s a friend, ”
Spousal & child abuse, drunk drivers, sexual slavery, genocide in Kenya is unjust,
The war Americans should not be in, drug addiction, gas prices, much to discuss,
Unscrupulous politicians and other leaders behind closed doors we cannot trust,
Some automobile makers selling cars then after three years on the road they rust.
It’s not the first incident between this Black vs. White and certainly not the last,
However, no person or race will experience forward progress living in the past,
Yes, it’s true that when you do not know history, greater the chance for a repeat,
But, when harboring malice in your heart revenge becomes bitter not sweet.
A family man now with a lot more on his mind like a wife and baby girl,
If the child had been born a boy there’s no doubt his name would be Earl,
There are many other concerns, how about the failure of public education?
Especially in inner city neighborhoods, what about that racial intimidation?
[...] Read more
poem by Luke Easter
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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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A Stinging From A Venomous Tongue
What's been done...
Will always come back to be,
Left for another...
To be delivered,
And...received.
With a stinging from a venomous tongue.
And a stunning meaning to leave stung.
What's been done...
Will always come back to be,
Left for another...
To be delivered,
And...received.
With a stinging from a venomous tongue.
And a stunning meaning to leave stung.
And,
Deserved...
When,
Someone gets to receive...
A stunning meaning to leave stung.
From,
A stinging from a venomous tongue.
A stinging from a venomous tongue.
And,
Deserved...
When someone gets to receive,
A...
Stunning meaning to leave stung.
From...
Someone with a venomous tongue.
And a stinging of it meant to be done.
It's...
Deserved!
When someone gets to receive,
A...
Stunning meaning to leave stung.
From...
Someone with a venomous tongue.
And a stinging of it meant to be done.
A stinging of it meant to be done.
It's...
Deserved!
When someone gets to receive,
A stinging from a venomous tongue.
And a stinging of it meant to be done.
From someone with a venomous tongue.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Dare To Be Stupid
Put down your chainsaw and listen to me
Its time for us to join in the fight
Its time to let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Its time to let the bedbugs bite
You better put all your eggs in one basket
You better count your chickens before they hatch
You better sell some wine before its/its time
You better find yourself an itch to scratch
You better squeeze all the charmin you can while mr. wimpoles not around
Stick your head in the microwave and get yourself a tan
Talk with your mouth full
Bite the hand that feeds you
Bite on more than you chew
What can you do
Dare to be stupid
Take some wooden nickles
Look for mr. goodbar
Get your mojo working now
Ill show you how
You can dare to be stupid
You can turn the other cheek
You can just give up the ship
You can eat a bunch of sushi and forget to leave a tip
Dare to be stupid
Come on and dare to be stupid
Its so easy to do
Dare to be stupid
Were all waiting for you
Lets go
Its time to make a mountain out of a molehill
So can I have a volunteer
Theres no more time for crying over spilled milk
Now its time for crying in your beer
Settle down, raise a family, join the pta
Buy some sensible shoes and a chevyrolet
And party till youre broke and they drive you away
Its ok, you can dare to be stupid
Its like spitting on a fish
Its like barking up a tree
Its like I said you gotta buy one if you wanna get one free
Dare to be stupid (yes)
Why dont you dare to be stupid
Its so easy to do
Dare to be stupid
Were all waiting for you
Dare to be stupid
Burn your candle at both ends
Look a gift horse in the mouth
Mashed potatoes can be your friends
You can be a coffee achiever
[...] Read more
song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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Break Free! - Have a Ball!
Time to break free, one's cup of tea may not be to all taste,
past history's stale news, let be, haste, challenge chased, no waste!
Song bird of time migrates, sublime rewarding melody,
wide wings unfurl, from spiral twirl, soar to true rhapsody.
Time to escape, dropp nightshade drape, spring sprightly sings fresh air,
shed strings, red tape of every shape, fresh future fair prepare.
Shift key, click mouse, write waltz like Strauss, carouse in harmony,
drown frowns, don't grouse laze louse round house, spurn tale_spin gravity.
Discard hard times, from prose to rhymes switch life that pain shrugs off,
see light, delight quite free from fright, breathe out and fight rough cough!
Ignore moods poor, pain reign's downpour, sore thumb, fools dumb who bore,
far more expect, hope's scope elect, reject despond's dark core!
Time to rebound, life’s boat aground goodbye waves tidal waves,
from hurts that hound heart thought strung, bound, a clear approach now braves
life’s slings and arrows, narrow minds, discovers empathy,
that brings marshmallows, wide wings hallows, sheds self-sympathy.
From sleepy head, depressed in bed, leap up, cheered frame of mind,
misfortune's sped away, ahead, lies joy; leave lies behind.
Dread, pain vain bled, is shed instead success unbolts faults’ door,
so have a ball, reverse free fall, displace dark doubts with SURE!
Don't hedge your bets, glad sad regrets turns topsy-turvy soon,
don't sit on fence in self defence, self-confidence is boon.
Let inner fire inspire desire, suspicions set at rest,
all you require, adore, admire, won't cloy, - enjoy with zest.
From vain complain move on again, see sea’s brimfull of fish,
go take your pick as lips you lick so wickedly delish.
Look sharp! Don't carp, distress or mess up opportunities
chance offers all, go have a ball, refreshed prioritease!
If once distraught in heart or thought, trust must fuss dust displace,
move on to more - unseen before - let better bad replace.
From inner trial advance and smile, past tears, fears fast forgot,
prick cloudy pall, go have a ball and call each shot!
Hope's heart's at ease when spirit frees harp's soul from sharks, sharp spears,
DO as YOU please and by degrees all darkness disappears,
bread butters fly, sun spo[r]ts in sky, relearn to laugh a lot,
keep on the ball, leap each grey wall – bold, spurning blow cold, hot!
Link one to one, new tale begun, soon shadow shades dissolve,
don’t stumble, run! don’t cry, have fun! hands on luck’s clock revolve.
mosquito bite quite fly-by-night seems past controversy
compared to light solutions bright that crush adversity.
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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From Hillbilly Heaven, To Honky Tonk Hell
(michael huffman/woody mullis/mike geiger)
On a hillside in hazzard
Sets a new double-wide
Gods little acre
Your paradise
A poor boy found heaven
With a good country girl
He had all he wanted
She was his whole world
But working the coal mine
Can wear a man down
He started spending
Too much time in town
He found temptation
Fell under its spell
And hillbilly heaven
Went to honky tonk hell
From hillbilly heaven
To honky tonk hell
From a warm home fire burning
To a cold, cheap motel
And an angel is crying
cause her good man fell
From hillbilly heaven
To honky tonk hell
Somewhere in hazzard
On a dark, dead-end street
Where whiskey and heartache
And old memories meet
He looks for salvation
In a bottle each night
And just goes on livin
Though hes lost his life
Now theres a job in the coal mine
That needs to be filled
And a heartache in hazzard
That wont ever heal
He had it all
Now its all for sale
And hillbilly heavens
Gone to honky tonk hell
From hillbilly heaven
To honky tonk hell
From a warm home fire burning
To a cold, cheap motel
And an angel is crying
cause her good man fell
From hillbilly heaven
To honky tonk hell
Hes gone from hillbilly heaven
[...] Read more
song performed by Kenny Chesney
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hillbilly Willy
HILLBILLY WILLY
Writer Dolly Parton
Copyright 1967
Now little Will was from the hills a way back in the styx
He got his reputation from turning on them country chicks
He drove a super hot rod car but he he could really
Knock those little girls off their feet yeah hillbilly Willy
He'd talk that ol' sweet lovers talk with a hillbilly drawl
Willy wasn't much for looks he was only five feet tall
When he talked that ol' sweet talk he drove those little girls silly
They stood in line waitin' for their time to court hillbilly Willy
Then this country cyclop who measured six foot nine
Came up to little Will and said (you stole that little girl of mine)
Then there was an awful brawl boy it was a dilly
When the fighting stopped there on top stood hillbilly Willy
Now the moral of this story is to be a lover you got to be tough
Even if you're just five feet tall you got to be able to strut your stuff
Now to all you lovers in radio land if your lovelife's a little chilly
Bear in mind the rough tough kind like hillbilly Willy
Just bear in mind the rough tough kind like hillbilly Willy
song performed by Dolly Parton
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tiger Eye
Tiger Eye Tiger Eye
Tiger Eye is here to spy
Oh Tiger Eye who's here to spy
My darling Tiger Eye I look in your eyes
Oh Tiger Eye you are like magic
Yes dear Tiger Eye
I believe when I look in your eyes
You give me hope
You give me strength
Oh dear Tiger Eye
Tiger Eye Tiger Eye
Tiger Eye is here to spy
Oh Tiger Eye who's here to spy
My darling Tiger Eye I look in your eyes
Oh Tiger Eye you have a spell
Yes dear Tiger Eye
A spell you cast when I look in your eyes
You give me hope
You give me strength
Oh dear Tiger Eye
poem by Camilla Fodgaard
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The Wanderer: A Vision: Canto V
We left the cave. Be Fear (said I) defy'd!
Virtue (for thou art Virtue) is my guide.
By time-worn steps a steep ascent we gain,
Whose summit yields a prospect o'er the plain.
There, bench'd with turf, an oak our seat extends,
Whose top, a verdant, branch'd pavilion bends.
Vistas, with leaves, diversify the scene,
Some pale, some brown, and some of lively green.
Now, from the full-grown day a beamy show'r
Gleams on the lake, and gilds each glossy flow'r.
Gay insects sparkle in the genial blaze,
Various as light, and countless as its rays:
They dance on every stream, and pictur'd play,
'Till, by the wat'ry racer, snatch'd away.
Now, from yon range of rocks, strong rays rebound,
Doubling the day on flow'ry plains around:
King-cups beneath far-striking colours glance,
Bright as th' etherial glows the green expanse.
Gems of the field!-the topaz charms the sight,
Like these, effulging yellow streams of light.
From the same rocks, fall rills with soften'd force,
Meet in yon mead, and well a river's source.
Thro' her clear channel, shine her finny shoals,
O'er sands, like gold, the liquid crystal rolls.
Dimm'd in yon coarser moor, her charms decay,
And shape, thro' rustling reeds, a ruffled way.
Near willows short and bushy shadows throw:
Now lost, she seems thro' nether tracts to flow;
Yet, at yon point, winds out in silver state,
Like Virtue from a labyrinth of fate.
In length'ning rows, prone from the mountains, run
The flocks:-their fleeces glist'ning in the sun;
Her streams they seek, and, 'twixt her neighb'ring trees,
Recline in various attitudes of ease.
Where the herds sip, the little scaly fry,
Swift from the shore, in scatt'ring myriads fly.
Each liv'ry'd cloud, that round th' horizon glows,
Shifts in odd scenes, like earth, from whence it rose.
The bee hums wanton in yon jasmine bow'r,
And circling settles, and despoils the flow'r.
Melodious there the plumy songsters meet,
And call charm'd Echo from her arch'd retreat.
[...] Read more
poem by Richard Savage
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