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Green Arrow
10-22-2013, 05:18 PM
I love good poems and poetic songs. These are my favorites:

"Invictus" by William Ernest Henley
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

"Misty Mountains" by J.R.R. Tolkien (in music form):


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nEwzFF4HeB8&list=SPFF3F248AC60CF19E

"Edge of Night" also by J.R.R. Tolkien, in music form:


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zmj25u5mVvg

More later.

























O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up- for you the flag is flung- for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths- for you the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck, You've fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; Exult O shores, and ring O bells! But I with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15754#sthash.GpElsGo9.dpuf

Chris
10-22-2013, 05:23 PM
William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)
THE SECOND COMING

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OEunVObSnVM

KC
10-22-2013, 05:29 PM
International Small Arms Traffic Blues
By John Darnielle of The Mountain Goats

My love is like a powder keg
My love is like a powder keg in the corner of an empty warehouse
Somewhere just outside of town
About to burn down

My love is like a Cuban plane
My love is like a Cuban plane flying from Havana
Up the Florida coast to the 'Glades
Soviet made

Our love is like the border between Greece and Albania
Our love is like the border between Greece and Albania
Trucks loaded down with weapons
Crossing over every night
Moon yellow and bright
There is a shortage in the blood supply
But there is no shortage of blood
The way I feel about you baby can't explain it
You got the best of my love

Chris
10-22-2013, 05:32 PM
The Hollow Men
T. S. Eliot
Mistah Kurtz—he dead.

A penny for the Old Guy

I

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom
Remember us—if at all—not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men......

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5fu8awT5Jzs

KC
10-22-2013, 05:32 PM
Love Love Love
by John Darnielle of The Mountain Goats

King Saul fell on his sword
When it all went wrong
And Joseph's brother sold him down the river for a song
And Sonny Liston rubbed some tiger balm into his glove

Some things you do for money
And some you do for love love love

Raskolnikov felt sick
And he couldn't say why
When he saw his face reflected
In his victim's twinkling eye

Some things you'll do for money
Some you'll do for fun
But the things you do for love are gonna come back
One by one

Love love is gonna lead you be the hand
Into a white and soundless place

Now we see things
As in a mirror dimly
Then we shall see each other
Face
To face

And way out in Seattle,
Young Kurt Cobain
Snuck out to the greenhouse
And put a bullet in his brain

Snakes in the grass beneath our feet
Rain in the clouds above
Some moments last forever
But some flare out
With love love love

Alyosha
10-22-2013, 05:34 PM
William Butler Yeats. b. 1865





863. When You are Old







WHEN you are old and gray and full of sleep



And nodding by the fire, take down this book,



And slowly read, and dream of the soft look



Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;






How many loved your moments of glad grace,
5


And loved your beauty with love false or true;



But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,



And loved the sorrows of your changing face.






And bending down beside the glowing bars,



Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
10


And paced upon the mountains overhead,



And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.











^^Makes me sad now


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O1KMTob2px0




Lyrics:
Did you not hear my lady
go down the garden singing?
Blackbird and thrush were silent
to hear the alleys ringing
O saw you not my lady
out in the garden there?
Shaming the rose and lily
for she is twice as fair

Though I am nothing to her
though she must rarely look at me
and though I could never woo her
I love her till I die

Surely you heard my lady
go down the garden singing?
Silencing all the songbirds
and setting the alleys ringing
But surely you see my lady
out in the garden there
Rivalling the glittering sunshine
with a glory of golden hair


Now, I am a little sad. I don't think I will be love like this again. :(

Green Arrow
10-22-2013, 06:02 PM
Now, I am a little sad. I don't think I will be love like this again. :(

Why is that a sad thing? I see it as a very good thing. If you loved everyone the same, it cheapens the love. The love you had and still have for Bill is so valuable precisely because he is the only person to hold so much of your love.

Be content to love everyone as much as you can love them, because even if one may be more loved than the other, you are still pouring your whole heart and soul into every love. There's nothing more valuable than that, Trina :)

kilgram
10-22-2013, 06:07 PM
"Canción del Pirata" of Espronceda(Romantic Spanish poet). Pirate's Song

Interpreted by Tierra Santa

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p4ftGhRnTtc

And also I like the song interpreted by Dark Moor

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w36FsaTsOpc

Translation of the poem
Pirate's song

The breeze fair aft, all sails on high,
Ten guns on each side mounted seen,
She does not cut the sea, but fly,
A swiftly sailing brigantine;
A pirate bark, the "Dreaded" name,
For her surpassing boldness famed,
On every sea well-known and shore,
From side to side their boundaries o'er.
The moon in streaks the waves illumes
Hoarse groans the wind the rigging through;
In gentle motion raised assumes
The sea a silvery shade with blue;
Whilst singing gaily on the poop
The pirate Captain, in a group,
Sees Europe here, there Asia lies,
And Stamboul in the front arise.

"Sail on, my swift one! nothing fear;
Nor calm, nor storm, nor foeman's force,
Shall make thee yield in thy career
Or turn thee from thy course.
Despite the English cruisers fleet
We have full twenty prizes made;
And see their flags beneath my feet
A hundred nations laid.
My treasure is my gallant bark,
My only God is liberty;
My law is might, the wind my mark,
My country is the sea.

"There blindly kings fierce wars maintain,
For palms of land, when here I hold
As mine, whose power no laws restrain,
Whate'er the seas infold.
Nor is there shore around whate'er,
Or banner proud, but of my might
Is taught the valorous proofs to bear,
And made to feel my right.
My treasure is my gallant bark,
My only God is liberty;
My law is might, the wind my mark,
My country is the sea.

"Look when a ship our signals ring,
Full sail to fly how quick she's veered!
For of the sea I am the king,
My fury's to be feared;
But equally with all I share
Whate'er the wealth we take supplies;
I only seek the matchless fair,
My portion of the prize.
My treasure is my gallant bark,
My only God is liberty;
My law is might, the wind my mark,
My country is the sea.

"I am condemned to die! -- I laugh;
For, if my fates are kindly sped,
My doomer from his own ship's staff
Perhaps I'll hang instead.
And if I fall, why what is life?
For lost I gave it then as due,
When from slavery's yoke in strife
A rover! I withdrew.
My treasure is my gallant bark,
My only God is liberty;
My law is might, the wind my mark,
My country is the sea.

"My music is the Northwind's roar;
The noise when round the cable runs,
The bellowings of the Black Sea's shore,
And rolling of my guns.
And as the thunders loudly sound,
And furious the tempests rave,
I calmly rest in sleep profound,
So rocked upon the wave.
My treasure is my gallant bark,
My only God is liberty;
My law is might, the wind my mark,
My country is the sea.

Translated by James Kennedy
Source:http://spanishpoems.blogspot.com.es/2006/07/jos-de-espronceda-cancin-del-pirata.html

Chris
10-22-2013, 06:10 PM
Another that remonds me some of your community, Alyosha...

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

by W. B. Yeats

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee;
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RfYGF7PkhhE

Green Arrow
10-22-2013, 06:17 PM
Another that remonds me some of your community, Alyosha...

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

by W. B. Yeats

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee;
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RfYGF7PkhhE

I like Celtic Thunder and Celtic Woman's songs based on that.

Alyosha
10-22-2013, 06:24 PM
Why is that a sad thing? I see it as a very good thing. If you loved everyone the same, it cheapens the love. The love you had and still have for Bill is so valuable precisely because he is the only person to hold so much of your love.

Be content to love everyone as much as you can love them, because even if one may be more loved than the other, you are still pouring your whole heart and soul into every love. There's nothing more valuable than that, Trina :)

That is true. Very different loves.

Alyosha
10-22-2013, 06:32 PM
I will add for "whomever"




LEGY XX.

TO HIS MISTRESS GOING TO BED.

by John Donne






COME, madam, come, all rest my powers defy ;
Until I labour, I in labour lie.
The foe ofttimes, having the foe in sight,
Is tired with standing, though he never fight.
Off with that girdle, like heaven's zone glittering,
But a far fairer world encompassing.
Unpin that spangled breast-plate, which you wear,
That th' eyes of busy fools may be stopp'd there.
Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime
Tells me from you that now it is bed-time.
Off with that happy busk, which I envy,
That still can be, and still can stand so nigh.
Your gown going off such beauteous state reveals,
As when from flowery meads th' hill's shadow steals.
Off with your wiry coronet, and show
The hairy diadems which on you do grow.
Off with your hose and shoes ; then softly tread
In this love's hallow'd temple, this soft bed.
In such white robes heaven's angels used to be
Revealed to men ; thou, angel, bring'st with thee
A heaven-like Mahomet's paradise ; and though
Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know
By this these angels from an evil sprite ;
Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright.
Licence my roving hands, and let them go
Before, behind, between, above, below.
O, my America, my Newfoundland,
My kingdom, safest when with one man mann'd,
My mine of precious stones, my empery ;
How am I blest in thus discovering thee !
To enter in these bonds, is to be free ;
Then, where my hand is set, my soul shall be.
Full nakedness ! All joys are due to thee ;
As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be
To taste whole joys. Gems which you women use
Are like Atlanta's ball cast in men's views ;
That, when a fool's eye lighteth on a gem,
His earthly soul might court that, not them.
Like pictures, or like books' gay coverings made
For laymen, are all women thus array'd.
Themselves are only mystic books, which we
—Whom their imputed grace will dignify—
Must see reveal'd. Then, since that I may know,
As liberally as to thy midwife show
Thyself ; cast all, yea, this white linen hence ;
There is no penance due to innocence :
To teach thee, I am naked first ; why then,
What needst thou have more covering than a man?






This Song is called "The Kiss" from Last of the Mohicans


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TPwNAz5UagU

Codename Section
10-22-2013, 08:12 PM
DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO

THAT GOOD NIGHT







Do not go gentle into that good night,


Old age should burn and rage at close of day;


Rage, rage against the dying of the light.



Though wise men at their end know dark is right,


Because their words had forked no lightning they


Do not go gentle into that good night.




Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright


Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,


Rage, rage against the dying of the light.




Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,


And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,


Do not go gentle into that good night.




Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight


Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,


Rage, rage against the dying of the light.




And you, my father, there on the sad height,


Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.


Do not go gentle into that good night.


Rage, rage against the dying of the light.


Dylan Thomas


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jREUrbGGrgM

oceanloverOH
10-22-2013, 08:41 PM
Why is that a sad thing? I see it as a very good thing. If you loved everyone the same, it cheapens the love. The love you had and still have for Bill is so valuable precisely because he is the only person to hold so much of your love.

Be content to love everyone as much as you can love them, because even if one may be more loved than the other, you are still pouring your whole heart and soul into every love. There's nothing more valuable than that, Trina :)

You have an eloquent and sensitive soul.....

Mister D
10-22-2013, 08:42 PM
You have an eloquent and sensitive soul.....

Yes. Yes, I do.

oceanloverOH
10-22-2013, 08:51 PM
Not a song, but a poem. Written in 1845 by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, about her love for English poet Robert Browning (whom she married the following year). If you really read and digest the words, it is a complete outpouring of her heart. Her last line speaks to the immortality of love, and that concept is absolutely awesome.

How Do I Love Thee?
poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

oceanloverOH
10-22-2013, 08:57 PM
Yes. Yes, I do.

LOL, you too, Mister D. But I really was referring to Green Arrow. He's kinda becoming one of my heroes these days. *blushing*

Mister D
10-22-2013, 09:05 PM
LOL, you too, @Mister D (http://thepoliticalforums.com/member.php?u=4). But I really was referring to @Green Arrow (http://thepoliticalforums.com/member.php?u=868). He's kinda becoming one of my heroes these days. *blushing*

The guy wears tights. Seriously.

oceanloverOH
10-22-2013, 09:28 PM
The guy wears tights. Seriously.

I know....and he has GREAT legs!
4364

Green Arrow
10-22-2013, 09:42 PM
The guy wears tights. Seriously.

Whatchu got against tights? They are manly tights, and very comfortable :tongue:

Chris
10-22-2013, 10:34 PM
Back to poetry...

The Hunting of the Snark
BY LEWIS CARROLL
Fit the First
The Landing

"Just the place for a Snark!" the Bellman cried,
As he landed his crew with care;
Supporting each man on the top of the tide
By a finger entwined in his hair.

"Just the place for a Snark! I have said it twice:
That alone should encourage the crew.
Just the place for a Snark! I have said it thrice:
What I tell you three times is true."

The crew was complete: it included a Boots—
A maker of Bonnets and Hoods—
A Barrister, brought to arrange their disputes—
And a Broker, to value their goods.

A Billiard-marker, whose skill was immense,
Might perhaps have won more than his share—
But a Banker, engaged at enormous expense,
Had the whole of their cash in his care.

There was also a Beaver, that paced on the deck,
Or would sit making lace in the bow:
And had often (the Bellman said) saved them from wreck,
Though none of the sailors knew how.

There was one who was famed for the number of things
He forgot when he entered the ship:
His umbrella, his watch, all his jewels and rings,
And the clothes he had bought for the trip.

He had forty-two boxes, all carefully packed,
With his name painted clearly on each:
But, since he omitted to mention the fact,
They were all left behind on the beach.

The loss of his clothes hardly mattered, because
He had seven coats on when he came,
With three pair of boots—but the worst of it was,
He had wholly forgotten his name.

He would answer to "Hi!" or to any loud cry,
Such as "Fry me!" or "Fritter my wig!"
To "What-you-may-call-um!" or "What-was-his-name!"
But especially "Thing-um-a-jig!"

While, for those who preferred a more forcible word,
He had different names from these:
His intimate friends called him "Candle-ends,"
And his enemies "Toasted-cheese."

"His form in ungainly—his intellect small—"
(So the Bellman would often remark)
"But his courage is perfect! And that, after all,
Is the thing that one needs with a Snark."

He would joke with hænas, returning their stare
With an impudent wag of the head:
And he once went a walk, paw-in-paw, with a bear,
"Just to keep up its spirits," he said.

He came as a Baker: but owned, when too late—
And it drove the poor Bellman half-mad—
He could only bake Bride-cake—for which, I may state,
No materials were to be had.

The last of the crew needs especial remark,
Though he looked an incredible dunce:
He had just one idea—but, that one being "Snark,"
The good Bellman engaged him at once.

He came as a Butcher: but gravely declared,
When the ship had been sailing a week,
He could only kill Beavers. The Bellman looked scared,
And was almost too frightened to speak:

But at length he explained, in a tremulous tone,
There was only one Beaver on board;
And that was a tame one he had of his own,
Whose death would be deeply deplored.

The Beaver, who happened to hear the remark,
Protested, with tears in its eyes,
That not even the rapture of hunting the Snark
Could atone for that dismal surprise!

It strongly advised that the Butcher should be
Conveyed in a separate ship:
But the Bellman declared that would never agree
With the plans he had made for the trip:

Navigation was always a difficult art,
Though with only one ship and one bell:
And he feared he must really decline, for his part,
Undertaking another as well.

The Beaver's best course was, no doubt, to procure
A second-hand dagger-proof coat—
So the Baker advised it—and next, to insure
Its life in some Office of note:

This the Banker suggested, and offered for hire
(On moderate terms), or for sale,
Two excellent Policies, one Against Fire,
And one Against Damage From Hail.

Yet still, ever after that sorrowful day,
Whenever the Butcher was by,
The Beaver kept looking the opposite way,
And appeared unaccountably shy.


Fit the Second
The Bellman's Speech


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5agGkD5G1w0

Chris
10-23-2013, 12:24 PM
Another favorite...

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Part I
It is an ancient mariner
And he stoppeth one of three.
--"By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stoppest thou me?

The bridegroom's doors are opened wide,
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set:
Mayst hear the merry din."

He holds him with his skinny hand,
"There was a ship," quoth he.
"Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!"
Eftsoons his hand dropped he.

He holds him with his glittering eye--
The wedding-guest stood still,
And listens like a three-years' child:
The mariner hath his will.

The wedding-guest sat on a stone:
He cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed mariner.

"The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared,
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the lighthouse top.

The sun came up upon the left,
Out of the sea came he!
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea....


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4EpuaCaPML8

Alyosha
10-23-2013, 12:29 PM
She Walks in Beauty
By Lord Byron (George Gordon) (http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/lord-byron) She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!




http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m_XVqhEX0nc

nathanbforrest45
10-23-2013, 01:33 PM
Come on come on come on come on
Come on is such a joy
Come on is such a joy
Come on lets take it easy
Come on lets take it easy
Take it easy take it easy
Everybody's got something to hide except for me and
my monkey.

The deeper you go the higher you fly
The higher you fly the deeper you go
So come on come on
Come on is such a joy
Come on is such a joy
Come on lets make it easy
Come on lets make it easy.

Take it easy take it easy
Everybody's got something to hide except for me and
my monkey.

Your inside is out when your outside is in
Your outside is in when your inside is out
So come on come on
Come on is such a joy
Come on is such a joy
Come on lets make it easy
Come on lets make it easy
Make it easy make it easy
Everybody's got something to hide except for me and
my monkey.

oceanloverOH
10-23-2013, 02:49 PM
Birdie birdie in the sky,
Why'd you do that in my eye?
I'm a big girl, I won't cry;
But I'm sure glad cows don't fly.

~curtsy~

nathanbforrest45
10-23-2013, 03:16 PM
Disobedience

James James
Morrison Morrison
Weatherby George Dupree
Took great
Care of his Mother,
Though he was only three.
James James Said to his Mother,
"Mother," he said, said he;
"You must never go down
to the end of the town,
if you don't go down with me."

James James
Morrison's Mother
Put on a golden gown.
James James Morrison's Mother
Drove to the end of the town.
James James Morrison's Mother
Said to herself, said she:
"I can get right down
to the end of the town
and be back in time for tea."

King John
Put up a notice,
"LOST or STOLEN or STRAYED!
JAMES JAMES MORRISON'S MOTHER
SEEMS TO HAVE BEEN MISLAID.
LAST SEEN
WANDERING VAGUELY:
QUITE OF HER OWN ACCORD,
SHE TRIED TO GET DOWN
TO THE END OF THE TOWN -
FORTY SHILLINGS REWARD!"

James James
Morrison Morrison
(Commonly known as Jim)
Told his
Other relations
Not to go blaming him.
James James Said to his Mother,
"Mother," he said, said he:
"You must never go down to the end of the town
without consulting me."

James James
Morrison's mother
Hasn't been heard of since.
King John said he was sorry,
So did the Queen and Prince.
King John
(Somebody told me)
Said to a man he knew:
If people go down to the end of the town, well,
what can anyone do?"

(Now then, very softly)
J.J.
M.M.
W.G.Du P.
Took great
C/0 his M*****
Though he was only 3.
J.J. said to his M*****
"M*****," he said, said he:
"You-must-never-go-down-to-the-end-of-the-town-
if-you-don't-go-down-with-ME!"

nathanbforrest45
10-23-2013, 03:18 PM
Whatchu got against tights? They are manly tights, and very comfortable :tongue:


yes yes, Manly tights worn by manly men doing manly things in a manly way

oceanloverOH
10-23-2013, 05:08 PM
yes yes, Manly tights worn by manly men doing manly things in a manly way

And tights do WONDERS for the package.....

Just sayin'.....

Dangermouse
10-23-2013, 05:18 PM
Ruby, don't take your love to town?

Faithless Nelly GrayA Pathetic Ballad

Ben Battle was a soldier bold,
And used to war's alarms;
But a cannon-ball took off his legs,
So he laid down his arms.

Now as they bore him off the field,
Said he, 'Let others shoot;
For here I leave my second leg,
And the Forty-second Foot.'

The army-surgeons made him limbs:
Said he, 'They're only pegs;
But there's as wooden members quite,
As represent my legs.'

Now Ben he loved a pretty maid, --
Her name was Nelly Gray;
So he went to pay her his devours,
When he devoured his pay.

But when he called on Nelly Gray,
She made him quite a scoff;
And when she saw his wooden legs,
Began to take them off.

'O Nelly Gray! O Nelly Gray!'
Is this your love so warm?
The love that loves a scarlet coat
Should be a little more uniform.

Said she, ' I loved a soldier once,
For he was blithe and brave;
But I will never have a man
With both legs in the grave

'Before you had those timber toes
Your love I did allow;
But then, you know, you stand upon
Another footing now.'

'O Nelly Gray! O Nelly Gray!
For all your jeering speeches,
At duty's call I left my legs
In Badajos's breaches.'

'Why, then,' said she, 'you've lost the feet
Of legs in war's alarms,
And now you cannot wear your shoes
Upon your feats of arms!'

'O false and fickle Nelly Gray!
I know why you refuse:
Though I've no feet, some other man
Is standing in my shoes.

'I wish I ne'er had seen your face;
But, now, a long farewell!
For you will be my death' -- alas!
You will not be my Nell!'

Now when he went from Nelly Gray
His heart so heavy got,
And life was such a burden grown,
It made him take a knot.

So round his melancholy neck
A rope he did intwine,
And, for his second time in life,
Enlisted in the Line.

One end he tied around a beam,
And then removed his pegs;
And, as his legs were off -- of course
He soon was off his legs.

And there he hung till he was dead
As any nail in town;
For, though distress had cut him up,
It could not cut him down.

A dozen men sat on his corpse,
To find out why he died, --
And they buried Ben in four cross-roads
With a stake in his inside.


Thomas Hood

Dangermouse
10-23-2013, 05:26 PM
A topical one...

To Autumn by John Keats

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of spring? Ay, Where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

Dangermouse
10-23-2013, 05:31 PM
A rather bleak look at the human condition.

This Be The Verse


BY PHILIP LARKIN (http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/philip-larkin)

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.

Dangermouse
10-23-2013, 05:32 PM
If you choose to live on to being elderly.

WarningWhen I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.


Jenny Joseph

jillian
10-23-2013, 05:36 PM
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G3onnJuBS18&noredirect=1

Dangermouse
10-23-2013, 06:58 PM
A poem about the devastation wrought in the coalfields of South Wales in the first Great Depression. Idris Davies. Set to music by Pete Seeger. Why the Byrds recorded a socialist anthem's a mystery. (Rhymney is pronounced "rumney" by Welsh people.)


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NaElMnMF9hA

Chris
10-23-2013, 07:49 PM
Ecclesiastes

The words of the Preacher, the son of David, king in Jerusalem.
Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity.
What profit hath a man of all his labour which he taketh under the sun?
One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh: but the earth abideth for ever.
The sun also ariseth, and the sun goeth down, and hasteth to his place where he arose.
The wind goeth toward the south, and turneth about unto the north; it whirleth about continually, and the wind returneth again according to his circuits.
All the rivers run into the sea; yet the sea is not full; unto the place from whence the rivers come, thither they return again.
All things are full of labour; man cannot utter it: the eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing.
The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun.
Is there any thing whereof it may be said, See, this is new? it hath been already of old time, which was before us.
There is no remembrance of former things; neither shall there be any remembrance of things that are to come with those that shall come after.
I the Preacher was king over Israel in Jerusalem.
And I gave my heart to seek and search out by wisdom concerning all things that are done under heaven: this sore travail hath God given to the sons of man to be exercised therewith.
I have seen all the works that are done under the sun; and, behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit.
That which is crooked cannot be made straight: and that which is wanting cannot be numbered.
I communed with mine own heart, saying, Lo, I am come to great estate, and have gotten more wisdom than all they that have been before me in Jerusalem: yea, my heart had great experience of wisdom and knowledge.
And I gave my heart to know wisdom, and to know madness and folly: I perceived that this also is vexation of spirit.
For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1K7vSKoMWgs

nathanbforrest45
10-24-2013, 08:12 AM
Death to Van Goth's Ear
Allen Ginsburg
Part 1
Poet is Priest
Money has reckoned the soul of America
Congress broken thru the precipice of Eternity
the president built a War machine which will vomit and rear Russia out of Kansas
The American Century betrayed by a mad Senate which no longer sleeps with its wife.
Franco has murdered Lorca the fairy son of Whitman
just as Mayakovsky committed suicide to avoid Russia
Hart Crane distinguished Platonist committed suicide to cave in the wrong
America
just as Million tons of human wheat were burned in secret caverns under the White House
While India starved and screamed and ate mad dogs full of rain
and mountains of eggs were reduced to white powder in the halls of Congress
no God-fearing man will walk there again because of the stink of the rotten eggs of America
and the Indians of Chiapas continue to gnaw their vitaminless tortillas
aborigines of Australia perhaps gibber in the eggless wilderness
and I rarely have an egg for breakfast tho my work requires infinite eggs to come to birth in Eternity
eggs should be eaten or given to their mothers
and the grief of the countless chickens of America is expressed in the screaming of her comedians over the radio
Detroit has built a million automobiles of rubber trees and phantoms
but I walk, I walk, and the Orient walks with me, and all Africa walks
And sooner or later North America will walk
Einstein alive was mocked for his heavenly politics
Bertrand Russell driven from New York for getting laid
immortal Chaplin driven form our shores with a rose in his teeth
a secret conspiracy by Catholic Church in the lavatories of
Congress has denied contraceptives to the unceasing masses of India.
Nobody publishes a word that is not the cowardly robot ravings of a depraved mentality
The day of the publication of true literature of the American
body will be day of Revolution
the revolution of the sexy lamb
the only bloodless revolution that gives away corn
poor Genet will illuminate the harvesters of Ohio
Marijuana is a benevolent narcotic but J. Edgar Hoover prefers his deathly Scotch
And the heroin of Lao-Tze & the Sixth Patriarch is punished by the electric chair
but the poor sick junkies have nowhere to lay their heads
fiends in our government have invented a cold-turkey cure for
addiction as obsolete as the Defense Early Warning Radar System.
I am the defense early warning radar system
I see nothing but bombs
I am not interested in preventing Asia from being Asia
and the governments of Russia and Asia will rise and fall but
Asia and Russia will not fall
The government of America also will fall but how can America fall
I doubt if anyone will ever fall anymore except governments
fortunately all the governments will fall
the only ones which won’t fall are the good ones
and the good ones don’t yet exist
But they have no being existing they exist in my poems
they exist in the death of the Russian and American governments
they exist in the death of Hart Crane & Mayakovsky
now is the time of prophecy without death as a consequence
the universe will ultimately disappear
Hollywood will not rot on the windmills of Eternity
Hollywood whose movies stick in the throat of God
Yes Hollywood will get what it deserves
Time
Seepage of nerve-gas over the radio
History will make this poem prophetic and its awful silliness a hideous spiritual music
I have the moan of doves and the feather of ecstasy
Man cannot long endure the hunger of the cannibal abstract
War is abstract
the world will be destroyed
Monument to Sacco & Vanzetti not yet financed to ennoble Boston
Vachel Lindsay Secretary of Interior
Poe Secretary of Imagination
Pound Society. Economics
and Kra belongs to Kra, and Pukti to Pukti
cross-fertilization of Block and Artaud
Van Gogh’s ear on the currency
no more propaganda for monsters
and poets should stay out of politics or become monsters
I have become monstrous with politics
the Russian poet undoubtedly monstrous in his secret notebook
Tibet should be left alone
these are obvious prophecies
America will be destroyed
Russian poets will struggle with Russia
Whitman warned against this “Fabled Damned of nations”
Where was Theodore Rosevelt when he sent out ultimatums from his castle in Camden
Where was the House of Representatives when Crane read aloud from his Prophetic Books
What was Wall Street scheming when Lindsay announced the doom of money
Where they listening to my ravings in the locker rooms of
Bricksford Employment Offices?
Did they bend their ears to the moans of my soul when I struggled
with market research statistics in the Forum of Rome?
No they were fighting in their fiery offices , on the carpets of
heart failure, screaming and Bargaining with Destiny
fighting the Skeleton with sabers, muskets, buck-teeth,
indigestion, bombs of larceny, whoredom, rockets, and pederasty,
back to the wall to build up their wives and apartments, lawns,
suburbs,
fairydoms,

nathanbforrest45
10-24-2013, 08:12 AM
Death to Van Goth's Ear
Allen Ginsburg
Part 2

Puerto Ricans crowded for massacre on 114th St. for the sake of an
imitation Chinese-Moderne refrigerator
Elephants of mercy murdered for the sake of the Elizabethan birdcage
millions of agitated fanatics in the bughouse for the sake of the screaming
soprano of industry
Money-chant of soapers - toothpaste apes in television sets - deodorizers on hypnotic chairs -
petroleum mongers in Texas - jet plane streaks among the clouds -
sky writers liars in the face of Divinity—fanged butchers of hats and shoes,
all Owners! Owners! Owners! with obsession on property and vanished Selfhood!
and their long editorials on the fence of the screaming negro attacked by
ants crawled out of the front page!
Machinery of a mass electrical dream! A war-creating whore of Babylon
bellowing over Capitols and Academies!
Money! Money! Money! shrieking mad celestial money of illusion!
Money made of nothing, starvation, suicide! Money of failure! Money of death!
Money against Eternity! and eternity’s strong mills grind out vast paper of
Illusion!

Germanicus
11-03-2013, 01:06 AM
Sonnet 116 Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! It is an ever-fixèd mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sonnet_116

I dont think Shakespeare is so great. Some of his sonnets suck and he knew it. But Shakespeare had a dark lady and it is interesting. I like this sonnet too.

O no!




Sonnet LIV. Of this world’s theatre in which we stay


Edmund Spenser (1552?–1599)







OF this world’s theatre in which we stay,



My love like the spectator, idly sits;



Beholding me, that all the pageants play,



Disguising diversely my troubled wits.



Sometimes I joy when glad occasion fits,
5


And mask in mirth like to a comedy:



Soon after, when my joy to sorrow flits,



I wail, and make my woes a tragedy.



Yet she, beholding me with constant eye,



Delights not in my mirth, nor rues my smart:
10


But, when I laugh, she mocks; and, when I cry,



She laughs, and hardens evermore her heart.



What then can move her? if nor mirth nor moan,



She is no woman, but a senseless stone.



http://www.bartleby.com/358/820.html

Poetry is ok I guess. I dont read it. I dont really look at paintings either. Certain types of girls seem to like poetry though. Its good to know something about it. My sonnet is better than some of Shakespeares.

Sonnet Zero

Is my verse that of a poor sonneteer?
Do you feel my words or do they betray?
My first quatrain may not be very clear
My iambic pentameters at bay

And this is my first Shakespearean form
The rival poet I am not for sure,
My second quatrain may not be the norm.
Though my octave to you longs to implore.

But no words could do my dark lady just.
No Shakespeare, Marlowe its futility.
To draw my love theres no words that I trust
No poet enjoys that ability.

Some others feet are right but none love more
145 was tetrametre and poor (:

Shakespeare sucked. And he was also a jerk. He profiteered in times of food shortages. What a jerk. The rival poet was better and he knew it. Plus he is just a smelly pommy that everyone has made a big deal about. I like some Shakespeare stuff but geez. Is he really so great. 145 is in tetremetres plus it sucks. (:


http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x253m_smashing-pumpkins-zero_music

Germanicus
11-03-2013, 02:11 AM
“What are clouds, but an excuse for the sky? What is life, but an escape from death?”

- James Clavell.

That is Yabu-sans Death Poem from the book Shogun. Death Poems are awesome.

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