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Marcellus: Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

classic line from Hamlet, Act I, Scene 4 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Added by Dan Costinaş
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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto II

THE ARGUMENT

The Saints engage in fierce Contests
About their Carnal interests;
To share their sacrilegious Preys,
According to their Rates of Grace;
Their various Frenzies to reform,
When Cromwel left them in a Storm
Till, in th' Effigy of Rumps, the Rabble
Burns all their Grandees of the Cabal.

THE learned write, an insect breeze
Is but a mungrel prince of bees,
That falls before a storm on cows,
And stings the founders of his house;
From whose corrupted flesh that breed
Of vermin did at first proceed.
So e're the storm of war broke out,
Religion spawn'd a various rout
Of petulant Capricious sects,
The maggots of corrupted texts,
That first run all religion down,
And after ev'ry swarm its own.
For as the Persian Magi once
Upon their mothers got their sons,
That were incapable t' enjoy
That empire any other way;
So PRESBYTER begot the other
Upon the good old Cause, his mother,
Then bore then like the Devil's dam,
Whose son and husband are the same.
And yet no nat'ral tie of blood
Nor int'rest for the common good
Cou'd, when their profits interfer'd,
Get quarter for each other's beard.
For when they thriv'd, they never fadg'd,
But only by the ears engag'd:
Like dogs that snarl about a bone,
And play together when they've none,
As by their truest characters,
Their constant actions, plainly appears.
Rebellion now began, for lack
Of zeal and plunders to grow slack;
The Cause and covenant to lessen,
And Providence to b' out of season:
For now there was no more to purchase
O' th' King's Revenue, and the Churches,
But all divided, shar'd, and gone,
That us'd to urge the Brethren on;
Which forc'd the stubborn'st for the Cause,

[...] Read more

poem by Samuel Butler
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Attica State

-"it is my pleasure and privilige at this very solumn moment to introduce a young man and his wife.
Who saw fit to put down in music and lyrics so that it will never be forgotten in our country, by anyone, the tragedy of attica state.
There's no more that i can say, ladies and gentlemen. i would like to introduce you to john and yoko lennon."
-"i'd just like to say, it's an honour and a pleasure to be here at the apollo and for the reasons we're all here.
This song, yoko and i wrote, is called 'attica state'"
One, two, three, four!
What a waste of human power,
What a waste of human lives.
Shoot the pris'ners in the towers,
Forty-three poor widowed wives.
Attica state, attica state,
We're all mates with attica state.
Media blames it on the pris'ners,
But the pris'ners did not kill.
"rockefeller pulled the trigger,"
That is what the people feel.
Attica state, attica state,
We're all mates with attica state.
Free the pris'ners, jail the judges,
Free all pris'ners ev'rywhere.
All they need is truth and justice,
All the want is love and care.
Attica state, attica state,
We're all mates with attica state.
They all live in suffocation,
Let's not watch them die in sorrow.
Now's the time for revolution,
Give them all a chance to grow.
Attica state, attica state,
We're all mates with attica state.
Come together, join the movement,
Take a stand for human rights.
Fear and hatred clouds our judgement,
Free us all from endless night.
Attica state, attica state,
We're all mates with attica state.
Attica state, attica state,
We all live in attica state.
Attica state, attica state,
Attica, attica, attica state.
-"thank you, aah, thank you, thank you, aah,. some of you, eh, wonder what i'm doinh here with no drummers and no nothin' like that.
Well, you might know i lost my me old band, or i left it. i'm puttin' a, i'm puttin' an elecric band together, it's not ready yet.
Ah, things like this keep comin' up so, i just have to busk it. so i'm gonna sing you a song now you might know
It's called 'imagine'

song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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Attica State

-"it is my pleasure and privilige at this very solumn moment to introduce a young man and his wife.
Who saw fit to put down in music and lyrics so that it will never be forgotten in our country, by anyone, the tragedy of attica state.
There's no more that i can say, ladies and gentlemen. i would like to introduce you to john and yoko lennon."
-"i'd just like to say, it's an honour and a pleasure to be here at the apollo and for the reasons we're all here.
This song, yoko and i wrote, is called 'attica state'"
One, two, three, four!
What a waste of human power,
What a waste of human lives.
Shoot the pris'ners in the towers,
Forty-three poor widowed wives.
Attica state, attica state,
We're all mates with attica state.
Media blames it on the pris'ners,
But the pris'ners did not kill.
"rockefeller pulled the trigger,"
That is what the people feel.
Attica state, attica state,
We're all mates with attica state.
Free the pris'ners, jail the judges,
Free all pris'ners ev'rywhere.
All they need is truth and justice,
All the want is love and care.
Attica state, attica state,
We're all mates with attica state.
They all live in suffocation,
Let's not watch them die in sorrow.
Now's the time for revolution,
Give them all a chance to grow.
Attica state, attica state,
We're all mates with attica state.
Come together, join the movement,
Take a stand for human rights.
Fear and hatred clouds our judgement,
Free us all from endless night.
Attica state, attica state,
We're all mates with attica state.
Attica state, attica state,
We all live in attica state.
Attica state, attica state,
Attica, attica, attica state.
-"thank you, aah, thank you, thank you, aah,. some of you, eh, wonder what i'm doinh here with no drummers and no nothin' like that.
Well, you might know i lost my me old band, or i left it. i'm puttin' a, i'm puttin' an elecric band together, it's not ready yet.
Ah, things like this keep comin' up so, i just have to busk it. so i'm gonna sing you a song now you might know
It's called 'imagine'

song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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Attica State

What a waste of human power
What a waste of human lives
Shoot the prisoners in the towers
Forty-three poor widowed wives
Attica state, attica state,
Were all mates with attica state
Media blames it on the prisoners
But the prisoners did not kill
Rockefeller pulled the trigger
That is what the people feel
Attica state, attica state,
Were all mates with attica state
Free the prisoners, jail the judges
Free all prisoners everywhere
All they want is truth and justice
All they need is love and care
Attica state, attica state,
Were all mates with attica state
They all live in suffocation
Lets not watch them die in sorrow
Nows the time for revolution
Give them all a chance to grow
Attica state, attica state,
Were all mates with attica state
Come together join the movement
Take a stand for human rights
Fear and hatred clouds our judgement
Free us all from endless night
Attica state, attica state,
Were all mates with attica state
Attica state, attica state,
We all live in attica state
Attica state, attica state,
Attica, attica, attica state

song performed by Lennon John
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Ghost - Book IV

Coxcombs, who vainly make pretence
To something of exalted sense
'Bove other men, and, gravely wise,
Affect those pleasures to despise,
Which, merely to the eye confined,
Bring no improvement to the mind,
Rail at all pomp; they would not go
For millions to a puppet-show,
Nor can forgive the mighty crime
Of countenancing pantomime;
No, not at Covent Garden, where,
Without a head for play or player,
Or, could a head be found most fit,
Without one player to second it,
They must, obeying Folly's call,
Thrive by mere show, or not at all
With these grave fops, who, (bless their brains!)
Most cruel to themselves, take pains
For wretchedness, and would be thought
Much wiser than a wise man ought,
For his own happiness, to be;
Who what they hear, and what they see,
And what they smell, and taste, and feel,
Distrust, till Reason sets her seal,
And, by long trains of consequences
Insured, gives sanction to the senses;
Who would not (Heaven forbid it!) waste
One hour in what the world calls Taste,
Nor fondly deign to laugh or cry,
Unless they know some reason why;
With these grave fops, whose system seems
To give up certainty for dreams,
The eye of man is understood
As for no other purpose good
Than as a door, through which, of course,
Their passage crowding, objects force,
A downright usher, to admit
New-comers to the court of Wit:
(Good Gravity! forbear thy spleen;
When I say Wit, I Wisdom mean)
Where (such the practice of the court,
Which legal precedents support)
Not one idea is allow'd
To pass unquestion'd in the crowd,
But ere it can obtain the grace
Of holding in the brain a place,
Before the chief in congregation
Must stand a strict examination.
Not such as those, who physic twirl,
Full fraught with death, from every curl;

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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State Of Mind

You don't need to hang around
You don't need to talk right now
Gotta feeling, it's a mistake
Gotta feeling, it's gonna break
Some days, sometimes just don't feel right
Too hot to touch
It's getting too much
You know it's just a state of mind
Driving you wild
You're torn up inside
You know it's just a state of mind
State of mind
All I need is to breathe
All I need is to believe
Gotta have it, now I know
Gotta have it, take it slow
Some days, sometimes it just goes right
Too hot to touch
It's getting too much
You know it's just a state of mind
Driving you wild
You're torn up inside
You know it's just a state of mind
State of mind
State of mind
State of mind
Ahhh
Too hot to touch (Yeah)
Ahhh
(It's my state of mind)
Driving you wild
(I was driving you wild)
Too hot to touch
It's getting too much
You know it's just a state of mind
Driving you wild
You're torn up inside
You know it's just a state of mind
State of mind
State of mind
State of mind
Too hot to touch
It's getting too much
You know it's just a state of mind
Driving you wild
You're torn up inside
You know it's just a state of mind
State of mind
State of mind
State of mind

[...] Read more

song performed by Holly Valance
Added by Lucian Velea
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Something Rotten

It seems were here i
Miss you something rotten
The stinks are here
Its guaranteed alls forgotten
Down here
Down here its clear that your uncut
Dont fear
Dont fear, keep all this forgotten
Face down
Face down
Face down, I miss you something rotten
Face down
Face down, this crown is broken rotten
Down here, down here, I know its not, its all forgotten
Down here, down here, face down, I miss you something rotten
Down here, down here, it stinks, it stinks of something rotten
Dont fear, dont fear, keep all this forgotten
Theres something rotten down here
Theres something rotten down here
Theres something rotten down here
Theres something rotten down here...

song performed by Placebo
Added by Lucian Velea
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Mostly Slavonic

I.—
Peter Michaelov

It was Peter the Barbarian put an apron in his bag
And rolled up the honoured bundle that Australians call a swag;
And he tramped from Darkest Russia, that it might be dark no more,
Dreaming of a port, and shipping, as no monarch dreamed before.
Of a home, and education, and of children staunch and true,
Like my father in the fifties—and his name was Peter, too.
(He could build a ship—or fiddle, out of wood, or bark, or hide—.
Sail one round the world and play the other one at eventide.)

Russia’s Peter (not my father) went to Holland in disguise,
Where he laboured as a shipwright underneath those gloomy skies;
Later on he went to England (which the Kaiser now—condemns)
Where he studied as a ship-smith by old Deptford on the Thames—
And no doubt he knew the rope-walk—(and the rope’s end too, he knew)—
Learned to build a ship and sail it—learned the business through and through.
And I’d like to say my father mastered navigation too.
(He was born across in Norway, educated fairly well,
And he grafted in a ship-yard by the Port of Arundel.)

“Peter Michaelov” (not Larsen) his work was by no means done;
For he learned to make a ploughshare, and he learned to make a gun.
Russian soldiers must have clothing, so he laboured at the looms,
And he studied, after hours, building forts and building booms.
He would talk with all and sundry, merchants and adventurers—
Whaling men from Nova Scotia, and with ancient mariners.
Studied military systems (of which Austria’s was the best).
Hospitals and even bedlams—class distinctions and the rest.

There was nothing he neglected that was useful to be known—
And he even studied Wowsers, who had no creed of his own.
And, lest all that he accomplished should as miracles appear,
It must always be remembered he’d a secret Fund for Beer.
When he tramped to toil and exile he was only twenty-five,
With a greater, grander object than had any man alive.
And perhaps the lad was bullied, and was sad for all we know—
Though it isn’t very likely that he’d take a second blow.
He had brains amongst the brainless, and, what that thing means I knew,
For before I found my kingdom, I had slaved in workshops too.

But they never dreamed, the brainless, boors that used to sneer and scoff,
That the dreamy lad beside them—known as “Dutchy Mickyloff”—
Was a genius and a poet, and a Man—no matter which—
Was the Czar of all the Russias!—Peter Michaelovich.

Sweden struck ere he was ready—filled the land with blood and tears—
But he broke the power of Sweden though it took him nine long years.

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Lawson
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King frederik the seventh

Our King is bereft of a trusty friend!
And in dismay
We lower our banners and sad attend
On his burial day.
But Denmark, in sorrow most deep thou waitest,
For fallen the life that was warmest, greatest,
And fallen the tower
Of mightiest power.
Bewailing the death of their kingly chief,
Men voice their grief.

For Denmark's salvation the man was born
Who now is dead.
When banished in youth from the court in scorn,
To his people he fled.
There throve he right well, there grew he together
With peasants and sailors in foul and fair weather,
While fullness of living
Its schooling was giving;
When ready for Denmark was laid the snare,
Then he was there!

Now soon it was plain, he was peasant-skulled
For their tricks; and hence
The traitors' shrewd schemings were all annulled
By his bit of sense.
He knew but one thing;-what his people thought them,
And therefore in danger he freedom brought them.
The whole was his vision,
He would no scission;
His words were but few, and of these the key:
'It shall not be!'

He stood by the helm like a sailor good,
In no storm remiss;
Of praise the tribute he never would,
But he shall have
this
!
The ship to the North he unswerving directed,-
In storm or in fog, exposed or protected;-
And fear allaying,
All folk were saying:
'He isn't so stupid as people tell,
For all goes well!'

'On deck every man!' was his last command,
'There's storm again!'
When answered the cry from the mast-head: 'Land!'
Oh, then, just then,

[...] Read more

poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Legend of The Corrievrechan

Prince Breacan of Denmark was lord of the strand
And lord of the billowy sea;
Lord of the sea and lord of the land,
He might have let maidens be!

A maiden he met with locks of gold,
Straying beside the sea:
Maidens listened in days of old,
And repented grievously.

Wiser he left her in evil wiles,
Went sailing over the sea;
Came to the lord of the Western Isles:
Give me thy daughter, said he.

The lord of the Isles he laughed, and said:
Only a king of the sea
May think the Maid of the Isles to wed,
And such, men call not thee!

Hold thine own three nights and days
In yon whirlpool of the sea,
Or turn thy prow and go thy ways
And let the isle-maiden be.

Prince Breacan he turned his dragon prow
To Denmark over the sea:
Wise women, he said, now tell me how
In yon whirlpool to anchor me.

Make a cable of hemp and a cable of wool
And a cable of maidens' hair,
And hie thee back to the roaring pool
And anchor in safety there.

The smiths of Greydule, on the eve of Yule,
Will forge three anchors rare;
The hemp thou shalt pull, thou shalt shear the wool,
And the maidens will bring their hair.

Of the hair that is brown thou shalt twist one strand,
Of the hair that is raven another;
Of the golden hair thou shalt twine a band
To bind the one to the other!

The smiths of Greydule, on the eve of Yule,
They forged three anchors rare;
The hemp he did pull, and he shore the wool,
And the maidens brought their hair.

[...] Read more

poem by George MacDonald
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King Volmer and Elsie

After the Danish of Christian Winter

Where, over heathen doom-rings and gray stones of the Horg,
In its little Christian city stands the church of Vordingborg,
In merry mood King Volmer sat, forgetful of his power,
As idle as the Goose of Gold that brooded on his tower.

Out spake the King to Henrik, his young and faithful squire
'Dar'st trust thy little Elsie, the maid of thy desire?'
'Of all the men in Denmark she loveth only me
As true to me is Elsie as thy Lily is to thee.'

Loud laughed the king: 'To-morrow shall bring another day,
When I myself will test her; she will not say me nay.'
Thereat the lords and gallants, that round about him stood,
Wagged all their heads in concert and smiled as courtiers should.

The gray lark sings o'er Vordingborg, and on the ancient town
From the tall tower of Valdemar the Golden Goose looks down;
The yellow grain is waving in the pleasant wind of morn,
The wood resounds with cry of hounds and blare of hunter's horn.

In the garden of her father little Elsie sits and spins,
And, singing with the early birds, her daily task, begins.
Gay tulips bloom and sweet mint curls around her garden-bower,
But she is sweeter than the mint and fairer than the flower.

About her form her kirtle blue clings lovingly, and, white
As snow, her loose sleeves only leave her small, round wrists in sight;
Below, the modest petticoat can only half conceal
The motion of the lightest foot that ever turned a wheel.

The cat sits purring at her side, bees hum in sunshine warm;
But, look! she starts, she lifts her face, she shades it with her arm.
And, hark! a train of horsemen, with sound of dog and horn,
Come leaping o'er the ditches, come trampling down the corn!

Merrily rang the bridle-reins, and scarf and plume streamed gay,
As fast beside her father's gate the riders held their way;
And one was brave in scarlet cloak, with golden spur on heel,
And, as he checked his foaming steed, the maiden checked her wheel.

'All hail among thy roses, the fairest rose to me!
For weary months in secret my heart has longed for thee!'
What noble knight was this? What words for modest maiden's ear?
She dropped a lowly courtesy of bashfulness and fear.

She lifted up her spinning-wheel; she fain would seek the door,
Trembling in every limb, her cheek with blushes crimsoned o'er.

[...] Read more

poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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State Of Mind

I was goin round the world
I was lookin for somewhere
I was searchin for someone
Who was gonna take me there
Didnt want to do it cause I knew what Id find
Yourre really only livin in a state of mind, yeah
I was thinkin of the past
I was tryin to rack my brain
I was looking at the future, looking at the future
I was tryin to play the game
Didnt want to do it cause I knew what Id find
Youre really only livin in a state of mind, yeah
Sometimes you get lost
Sometimes you get found
In a state of mind
Sometimes youre too high
Sometimes youre too down
Its just a state of mind
Didnt want to do it cause I knew what Id find
Youre really only livin in a state of mind, yeah
Sometimes you get lost
Sometimes you get found
In a state of mind
Sometimes youre too high
Sometimes youre too down
Its just a state of mind
You think you know it all
Then you think that you know nothing
Cant dance, cant crawl, crawl
Maybe you better forget it
Didnt want to do it cause I knew what Id find
Youre really only livin in a state of mind, yeah
Didnt want to it cause I knew what Id find
Youre really only livin in a state of mind, yeah
Didnt want to it cause I knew what Id find
Youre really only livin in a state of mind, yeah
State of mind
Its a state of mind
State of mind
State of mind
State of mind
State of mind

song performed by Electric Light Orchestra
Added by Lucian Velea
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State Of Confusion

Woke up in a panic,
Like somebody fired a gun
I wish I could be dreaming,
But the nightmares just begun.
Theres flooding in the basement,
Theres water all around.
Theres woodworm in the attic
And the ceiling just fell down.
Im in a state (state)
Of confusion (whooooh).
Im in a state (state)
Of confusion (whooooh).
All the dirty dishes
Are still in the kitchen sink.
The tumble dryers broken,
Now the tellys on the blink.
My girlfriends packed her bags
And moved out to another town.
She couldnt stand the boredom
When the video broke down.
Dont know why I feel so bad.
Is it the weather, or am I going mad?
Dont know why I feel this way.
I dont know whether Im coming or Im going,
Cant cover up cause its obviously showing.
Its a state (state)
Of confusion (whooooh).
Were in a state (state)
Of confusion (whooooh).
I dont know whether Im coming or Im going.
Should feel happy, should feel glad.
Im alive and it cant be bad,
But back on planet earth they shatter the illusion,
The worlds going round in a state of confusion.
Standing on an island
In the middle of the road.
Traffic either side of me,
Which way will I go?
I shouldve stayed at home,
I should have never come outside.
Now I wish I never tried
To cross the other side.
Im in a state (state)
State of confusion (whooooh).
Its a state (state)
Of confusion (whooooh).
Lyin awake in a cold, cold sweat,
Am I overdrawn, am I going in debt?
It gets worse, the older that you get.
No escape from the state of confusion Im in.

[...] Read more

song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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Gotham - Book II

How much mistaken are the men who think
That all who will, without restraint may drink,
May largely drink, e'en till their bowels burst,
Pleading no right but merely that of thirst,
At the pure waters of the living well,
Beside whose streams the Muses love to dwell!
Verse is with them a knack, an idle toy,
A rattle gilded o'er, on which a boy
May play untaught, whilst, without art or force,
Make it but jingle, music comes of course.
Little do such men know the toil, the pains,
The daily, nightly racking of the brains,
To range the thoughts, the matter to digest,
To cull fit phrases, and reject the rest;
To know the times when Humour on the cheek
Of Mirth may hold her sports; when Wit should speak,
And when be silent; when to use the powers
Of ornament, and how to place the flowers,
So that they neither give a tawdry glare,
'Nor waste their sweetness in the desert air;'
To form, (which few can do, and scarcely one,
One critic in an age, can find when done)
To form a plan, to strike a grand outline,
To fill it up, and make the picture shine
A full and perfect piece; to make coy Rhyme
Renounce her follies, and with Sense keep time;
To make proud Sense against her nature bend,
And wear the chains of Rhyme, yet call her friend.
Some fops there are, amongst the scribbling tribe,
Who make it all their business to describe,
No matter whether in or out of place;
Studious of finery, and fond of lace,
Alike they trim, as coxcomb Fancy brings,
The rags of beggars, and the robes of kings.
Let dull Propriety in state preside
O'er her dull children, Nature is their guide;
Wild Nature, who at random breaks the fence
Of those tame drudges, Judgment, Taste, and Sense,
Nor would forgive herself the mighty crime
Of keeping terms with Person, Place, and Time.
Let liquid gold emblaze the sun at noon,
With borrow'd beams let silver pale the moon;
Let surges hoarse lash the resounding shore,
Let streams meander, and let torrents roar;
Let them breed up the melancholy breeze,
To sigh with sighing, sob with sobbing trees;
Let vales embroidery wear; let flowers be tinged
With various tints; let clouds be laced or fringed,
They have their wish; like idle monarch boys,
Neglecting things of weight, they sigh for toys;

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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Allegany Camp

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amc theater camp hill
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amcmovie camps
amelia earhart in japanese war camp

[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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State Of The Heart

I know your name
I told you mine
Weve stopped and passed the time of day
You work in town
I work at night
That gives us six until seven to work this out
If I seem a little strange
Its just the state of the heart
Im waiting here for you
In the state Im in
You are the moon
I am the sea
You pull me in and gaze on down at me
I was alone
I thought I was immune
Its good to know
The door can still be open wide
If I feel a little strange
Its just the state of the heart
Im waiting here for you
In the state Im in
Its just the state of the heart
I wait in the dark
I the state Im in
We get closer and closer
To falling out or falling in
I go over and over
But I cant change the state
This heart is in
If I seem a little strange
Its just the state of the heart
Im waiting here for you
In the state Im in
Its just the state of the heart
You know I wait in the dark
In the state Im in
It s the state of the heart
The state of the heart
The state of the heart
The state of the heart

song performed by Rick Springfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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Rotten World Blues

Hey Man
What?
Hey Man
What?
Hey Man
What?
Hey man
What?
Dig this...
Well I went walkin'
Out yesterday
A man was carryin' a sign that says
"The world is gonna end tomorrow
hey buddy got a nickel I can borrow?"
This rotten world's gonna chew you up
Swallow you whole and then spit you back out
The sooner you recognize this simple fact
Then this rotten world gives you what you lack
Old Miss Hedrick she's gettin' down
You don't see her much walkin' 'round town
Well you could say that she needs a little lovin'
Lookin' for a light with her head in the oven
This rotten world's gonna chew you up
Swallow you whole and then spit you back out
The sooner you recognize this simple fact
Then this rotten world gives you what you lack
Let's rock...
Miss Kovalov she's lookin' good
Walkin' her ass through the neighborhood
She knows somethin' that you don't know
Somethin' she learned about a long time ago
This rotten world's gonna chew you up
Swallow you whole and then spit you back out
The sooner you recognize this simple fact
Then this rotten world gives you what you lack
This rotten world's gonna chew you up
Swallow you whole and then spit you back out

song performed by Eels
Added by Lucian Velea
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Bullets And Kisses

My bullets are kisses.
Let me send them to everyone of you.
Let them poison the very essence of your soul.
Let me claim another victim.
Let me dig another grave of the forgotten.
Memories dead, stale, and rotten.

Heat seeking missile are only sent destroy.
Man less drones are deployed.
Books to a religion burned.
Peace will be destroyed.
It is impossible to avoid.
Unrest on steroids.

My bullets are kisses.
Let me send them to everyone of you.
Let them poison the very essence of your soul.
Let me claim another victim.
Let me dig another grave of the forgotten.
Memories dead, stale, and rotten.

You want to trust and be trusted.
But you have no understanding of a culture.
You disrespect it everyday.
You create martyrs by your mistakes.
With every action you make it just escalates.
Fear spreads like fire in a very drought ridden forest.
Let me ask you how do you plan on exactly putting out?

My bullets are kisses.
Let me send them to everyone of you.
Let them poison the very essence of your soul.
Let me claim another victim.
Let me dig another grave of the forgotten.
Memories dead, stale, and rotten.

You must get out.
It was never your responsibility.
We are not the divinity.
We are not here to save you.
With so much blood on our hands how can we still be wearing that cape?
Do we not understand what is at stake?
We just continue to create pure hate.

My bullets are kisses.
Let me send them to everyone of you.
Let them poison the very essence of your soul.
Let me claim another victim.
Let me dig another grave of the forgotten.
Memories dead, stale, and rotten.

[...] Read more

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Added by Poetry Lover
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Annus Mirabilis, The Year Of Wonders, 1666

1
In thriving arts long time had Holland grown,
Crouching at home and cruel when abroad:
Scarce leaving us the means to claim our own;
Our King they courted, and our merchants awed.

2
Trade, which, like blood, should circularly flow,
Stopp'd in their channels, found its freedom lost:
Thither the wealth of all the world did go,
And seem'd but shipwreck'd on so base a coast.

3
For them alone the heavens had kindly heat;
In eastern quarries ripening precious dew:
For them the Idumaean balm did sweat,
And in hot Ceylon spicy forests grew.

4
The sun but seem'd the labourer of the year;
Each waxing moon supplied her watery store,
To swell those tides, which from the line did bear
Their brimful vessels to the Belgian shore.

5
Thus mighty in her ships, stood Carthage long,
And swept the riches of the world from far;
Yet stoop'd to Rome, less wealthy, but more strong:
And this may prove our second Punic war.

6
What peace can be, where both to one pretend?
(But they more diligent, and we more strong)
Or if a peace, it soon must have an end;
For they would grow too powerful, were it long.

7
Behold two nations, then, engaged so far
That each seven years the fit must shake each land:
Where France will side to weaken us by war,
Who only can his vast designs withstand.

8
See how he feeds the Iberian with delays,
To render us his timely friendship vain:
And while his secret soul on Flanders preys,
He rocks the cradle of the babe of Spain.

9
Such deep designs of empire does he lay

[...] Read more

poem by John Dryden
Added by Poetry Lover
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Dirty Rotten Shame

I recall the good old days
But thankfully, theyve gone
Now the ponies all are broken nags
That stumble as they groan
And throw the jockeys from their throne
When there are pitches left to dodge
And lions left to tame
But its nothing but a dirty rotten shame
Its a dirty rotten shame
That when youre frivolous and strong
It isnt youth, its fearlessness
That has been wasted on the young
The cruel are in the cradle
And the bishops in the bag
Its nothing but a dirty rotten shame
Now I find life a millionaire
That brags for rags and jewels
A snarling pup is wild enough
But as his anger proves
Hes left to sharpen useless tools
That tear and graze and finer phrase
But few are worth the name
Its nothing but a dirty rotten shame
Its a dirty rotten shame
And that is not an idle boast
When all your courage and your strength
Will leave you as you need it most
When there are lamps to dampen
And cauliflowers to flip
Its nothing but a dirty rotten shame

song performed by Elvis Costello
Added by Lucian Velea
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