Tuesday, September 30, 2008

The Call


It started out as a feeling
Which then grew into a hope
Which then turned into a quiet thought
Which then turned into a quiet word

And then that word grew louder and louder
Til it was a battle cry

I'll come back
When you call me
No need to say goodbye

Just because everything's changing
Doesn't mean it's never
Been this way before

All you can do is try to know
Who your friends are
As you head off to the war

Pick a star on the dark horizon
And follow the light

You'll come back
When it's over
No need to say good bye

You'll come back
When it's over
No need to say good bye..

Now we're back to the beginning
It's just a feeling and no one knows yet
But just because they can't feel it too
Doesn't mean that you have to forget

Let your memories grow stronger and stronger
Til they're before your eyes

You'll come back
When they call you
No need to say good bye

You'll come back
When they call you
No need to say good bye..

Monday, September 08, 2008

For Good

I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you:

Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good.

Monday, July 28, 2008

Queen and Soldier


The soldier came knocking upon the queen's door
He said, "I am not fighting for you any more"
The queen knew she'd seen his face someplace before
And slowly she let him inside.
He said, "I've watched your palace up here on the hill
And I've wondered who's the woman for whom we all kill
But I am leaving tomorrow and you can do what you will
Only first I am asking you why."
Down in the long narrow hall he was led
Into her rooms with her tapestries red
And she never once took the crown from her head
She asked him there to sit down.
He said, "I see you now, and you are so very young
But I've seen more battles lost than I have battles won
And I've got this intuition, says it's all for your fun
And now will you tell me why?"
The young queen, she fixed him with an arrogant eye
She said, "You won't understand, and you may as well not try"
But her face was a child's, and he thought she would cry
But she closed herself up like a fan.
And she said, "I've swallowed a secret burning thread
It cuts me inside, and often I've bled"
He laid his hand then on top of her head
And he bowed her down to the ground.
"Tell me how hungry are you? How weak you must feel
As you are living here alone, and you are never revealed
But I won't march again on your battlefield"
And he took her to the window to see.
And the sun, it was gold, though the sky, it was gray
And she wanted more than she ever could say
But she knew how it frightened her, and she turned away
And would not look at his face again.
And he said, "I want to live as an honest man
To get all I deserve and to give all I can
And to love a young woman who I don't understand
Your highness, your ways are very strange."
But the crown, it had fallen, and she thought she would break
And she stood there, ashamed of the way her heart ached
She took him to the doorstep and she asked him to wait
She would only be a moment inside.
Out in the distance her order was heard
And the soldier was killed, still waiting for her word
And while the queen went on strangeling in the solitude she preferred
The battle continued on

Suzanne Vega

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

I look into my Glass


I LOOK into my glass,
And view my wasting skin,
And say, “Would God it came to pass
My heart had shrunk as thin!”
For then, I, undistrest 5
By hearts grown cold to me,
Could lonely wait my endless rest
With equanimity.
But Time, to make me grieve,
Part steals, lets part abide; 10
And shakes this fragile frame at eve
With throbbings of noontide.
T. Hardy

Sunday, July 06, 2008

strangers


stop me if you've heard this one
i feel as though we've met before
perhaps i'm mistaken
but it's just that i remind you
of someone you used to care about
but that was long ago
do you think i'd fall for that
i wasn't born yesterday
besides i never talk to strangers anyway

i ain't a bad guy when you get to know me
i just thought there ain't no harm
hey just try minding your own business
bud who asked you to annoy me
with your sad repartee
besides i never talk to strangers anyway

your life's a dimestore novel
this town is full of guys like you
and you're looking for someone to take the place of her
and you're bitter cause he left you
that's why you're drinkin in this bar
well only suckers fall in love
with perfect strangers

it always takes one to know one stranger
maybe we're just wiser now
and been around the block so many times
that we don't notice
that we're all just perfect strangers
as long as we ignore
that we all begin as strangers
just before we find
we really aren't strangers anymore

t.waits

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Nothing Survives


i really know my place/ it says i am small
don't look into my face/ it says it all

there in the dark light/ confusion is born
i think i am spineless/ my dreams are all torn

heavy atmosphere/ the fear/ who cares?

there in the raincloud/ the answer lies
but the reality/ always defied

heavy atmosphere/ the fear/ who cares?

i thought i knew my place/ thought i was small
but now i know for sure/ i'm nothing at all
there on the corner/ i gave a sigh
and then i realized/ nothing had survived
nothing had survived

S.A.Myklebost

Monday, June 16, 2008

My Weeping Heart


My weeping heart on the deack drools spit;
They soil it with cigartte butts,
They spatter it with slop shit;
My weeping heart on the deck drools spit.
The soldiers drink and laugh at it;
The sound of laughing hurts my guts.
My weeping heart on the deck drools spit;
They soil it with cigarette butts.

Soldiers' cocks are a black burlesque;
They rape my heart with what they say.
In scrawls on the mast, grotesque
Soldiers' cocks are a black burlesque.
Ocean, abracadabrantesque,
Take my heart and wash it away!
Soldiers' cocks are a black burlesque;
They rape my heart with what they say.

When they are done, and all worn out
How will I act, my stolen heart?
All I will hear is a drunken shout
When they are done and all worn out.
I will throw up and then pass out,
I know, with my heart torn apart
When they are done, and all worn out.
How will I act, my stolen heart?

A. Rimbaud

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Big Night on the Town



drunk on the dark streets of some city,
it's night, you're lost, where's your
room?
you enter a bar to find yourself,
order scotch and water.
damned bar's sloppy wet, it soaks
part of one of your shirt
sleeves.
It's a clip joint-the scotch is weak.
you order a bottle of beer.
Madame Death walks up to you
wearing a dress.
she sits down, you buy her a
beer, she stinks of swamps, presses
a leg against you.
the bar tender sneers.
you've got him worried, he doesn't
know if you're a cop, a killer, a
madman or an
Idiot.
you ask for a vodka.
you pour the vodka into the top of
the beer bottle.
It's one a.m. In a dead cow world.
you ask her how much for head,
drink everything down, it tastes
like machine oil.

you leave Madame Death there,
you leave the sneering bartender
there.

you have remembered where
your room is.
the room with the full bottle of
wine on the dresser.
the room with the dance of the
roaches.
Perfection in the Star Turd
where love died
laughing.

C. Bukowski

Monday, June 09, 2008

The Sun Rising


BUSY old fool, unruly Sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains, call on us ?
Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run ?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late school-boys and sour prentices,
Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices ;
Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

Thy beams so reverend, and strong
Why shouldst thou think ?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
But that I would not lose her sight so long.
If her eyes have not blinded thine,
Look, and to-morrow late tell me,
Whether both th' Indias of spice and mine
Be where thou left'st them, or lie here with me.
Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday,
And thou shalt hear, "All here in one bed lay."

She's all states, and all princes I ;
Nothing else is ;
Princes do but play us ; compared to this,
All honour's mimic, all wealth alchemy.
Thou, Sun, art half as happy as we,
In that the world's contracted thus ;
Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
To warm the world, that's done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere ;
This bed thy center is, these walls thy sphere.

J. Donne

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Blues


Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone.
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling in the sky the message He is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever, I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.


W.H.Auden

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Evening Song


I wait in the dark once more,
Swung between space and space:
Before my mirror I lift my hands
And face my remembered face.
Is it I who stand in a question here,
Asking to know my name? …
It is I, yet I know not whither I go,
Nor why, nor whence I came.

It is I, who awoke at dawn
And arose and descended the stair,
Conceiving a god in the eye of the sun,—
In a woman’s hands and hair.
It is I whose flesh is grey with the stones
I builded into a wall:
With a mournful melody in my brain
Of a tune I cannot recall …

There are roses to kiss: and mouths to kiss;
And the sharp-pained shadow of death.
I remember a rain-drop on my cheek,—
A wind like a fragrant breath …
And the star I laugh on tilts through heaven;
And the heavens are dark and steep …
I will forget these things once more
In the silence of sleep.

C. Aiken

Saturday, May 10, 2008

Leaving


Change the locks on the door.
Put out the light in the hall.
I do not live here anymore

Put the world in a box.
Turn the sign to the street.
Aim for where horizon and blue skies, meet

But all I know is
I’m not ready yet
For the light to dim
Got a suitcase, got regrets
But I’m hopeful yet

I’ve been a gifted thief
Stole everything for the cause
I never had fingers as light as yours

So wake up pretty girl
See the hope in small things
Disappointment can wear you thin

But all I know is
I’m not ready yet
For the light to dim
Got a suitcase, got regrets
But I’m hopeful yet
And I’ll raise this glass of wine
And I’ll say your name

So let’s be killers babe
Make the great escape
From all the bitter words
Of every crowded street and empty heart
It’s Christmas day, Brooklyn in the rain
But I am safe inside a better world of hope and memory
Drunk on velvet wine, southern cross for light
Deal your cards and hope that I can play a better hand this time.

T. McRae

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Still Here


You haven't looked at me that way in years
You dreamed me up and left me here
How long was I dreaming for
What was it you wanted me for

You haven't looked at me that way in years
Your watch has stopped and the pond is clear
Someone turn the lights back off
I'll love you til all time is gone

You haven't looked at me that way in years
But I'm still here.

T. Waits

Friday, April 18, 2008

Rochester's Farewell

Farewell

If, underneath death's cold wing,
His restless soul should fly away,
Beyond the grasp of fools,
T'would meet with the bliss they deny,
So stand for him, kneel for him,
As he lies low in kneaded clay,
Pray for him, who prayed too late,
That he might shine on judgement day.

Kyrie Eleison. Christe Eleison.
Kyrie Eleison. Christe Eleison.

O Domine Deus dona nobis pacem.
O Domine Deus dona nobis pacem.

Saturday, March 29, 2008

Lonesome Years


Lo! 'tis a gala night
Within the lonesome latter years!
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sit in a theatre, to see
A play of hopes and fears,
While the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.

Mimes, in the form of God on high,
Mutter and mumble low,
And hither and thither fly-
Mere puppets they, who come and go
At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,
Flapping from out their Condor wings
Invisible Woe!

That motley drama- oh, be sure
It shall not be forgot!
With its Phantom chased for evermore,
By a crowd that seize it not,
Through a circle that ever returneth in
To the self-same spot,
And much of Madness, and more of Sin,
And Horror the soul of the plot.

But see, amid the mimic rout
A crawling shape intrude!
A blood-red thing that writhes from out
The scenic solitude!
It writhes!- it writhes!- with mortal pangs
The mimes become its food,
And seraphs sob at vermin fangs
In human gore imbued.

Out- out are the lights- out all!
And, over each quivering form,
The curtain, a funeral pall,
Comes down with the rush of a storm,
While the angels, all pallid and wan,
Uprising, unveiling, affirm
That the play is the tragedy, "Man,"
And its hero the Conqueror Worm.

E.A.P.

Friday, March 21, 2008

Iron Bells


Hear the tolling of the bells
Iron Bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people - ah, the people
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All Alone
And who, tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone
They are neither man nor woman
They are neither brute nor human
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells
Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells
Of the bells, bells, bells
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells
Of the bells, bells, bells:
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells
Bells, bells, bells
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.

E.A.P.

Saturday, March 01, 2008

Moonbeams and the Sea


THE fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;

Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle—
Why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;

No sister-flower would be forgiven

If it disdain'd its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,

And the moonbeams kiss the sea—
What are all these kissings worth,

If thou kiss not me?

Shelley

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Metamorphoses of a Vampire


Meanwhile, from her red mouth the woman, in husky tones,
Twisting her body like a serpent upon hot stones
And straining her white breasts from their imprisonment,
Let fall these words, as potent as a heavy scent:


My lips are moist and yielding, and I know the way
To keep the antique demon of remorse at bay.
All sorrows die upon my bosom. I can make
Old men laugh happily as children for my sake.
For him who sees me naked in my tresses, I
Replace the sun, the moon, and all the stars of the sky!
Believe me, learned sir, I am so deeply skilled
That when I wind a lover in my soft arms, and yield
My breasts like two ripe fruits for his devouring-both
Shy and voluptuous, insatiable and loath-
Upon his bed that groans and sighs luxuriously
Even the impotent angels would be damned for me!

When she drained me of my very marrow, and cold
And weak, I turned to give her one more kiss-behold,
There at my side was nothing but a hideous
Putrescent thing, all faceless and exuding pus.
I closed my eyes and mercifully swooned till day:
Who seemed to have replenished her arteries from my own,
The wan, disjointed fragments of a skeleton
Wagged up and down in a new posture where she had lain;
Rattling with each convulsion like a weathervane
Or an old sign that creaks upon its bracket, right
Mournfully in the wind upon a winter's night.

Baudelaire

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Dear God


Dear God
Hope you got the letter and...
I pray you can make it better down here
I don't mean a big reduction in the price of beer
But all the people that you made in your image
See them starving on their feet
Cause they don't get enough to eat
From God
I can't believe in you
Dear God
Sorry to disturb you but...
I feel that I should be hear loud and clear
We all need a big reduction
In the amount of tears
And all the people that you made in your image
See them fighting in the street
Cause they can't make opinions meet about God
I can't believe in you
Did you make disease
and the diamond blue?
Did you make mankind
after we made you?
And the devil too?
Dear God,
Don't know if you noticed but...
Your name is on a lot of quotes in this book
And as crazy humans wrote it
you should take a look
And all the people that you made in your image
Still believeing that junk is true
Well I know it ain't and so do you, dear God
I can't believe in
I don't believe in
I won't believe in heaven and hell
no saints no sinners no devil as well
no pearly gate no thorny crown
you're always letting us humans down
the wars you bring
the babes you drown
those lost at sea and never found
and it's all the same the whole world round
the hurt I see helps to compound
That Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
is just somebody's unholy hoax
And if you're up there you'd perceive
That my heart's here upon my sleeve
If there's one thing I don't believe in...
It's you, dear God.

S. McLachlan

Sunday, January 27, 2008

Waiting


Waiting on an angel
One to carry me home
Hope you come to see me soon
Cause I don't want to go alone
I don't want to go alone

Now angel won't you come by me
Angel hear my plea
Take my hand lift me up
So that I can fly with thee
So that I can fly with thee

And I'm waiting on an angel
And I know it won't be long
To find myself a resting place
In my angel's arms
In my angel's arms

So speak kind to a stranger
Cause you'll never know
It just might be an angel come
Knockin at your door
Knockin at your door

And I'm waiting on an angel
And I know it won't be long
To find myself a resting place
In my angel's arms
In my angel's arms

Waiting on an angel
One to carry me home
Hope you come to see me soon
Cause I don't want to go alone
I don't want to go alone
Don't want to go
I don't want to go alone.

B. Harper

Saturday, January 19, 2008

Tired


I count the cases piled up high
For the 1:15.
For platform and for passerby
It's the same routine.
I'm ranting while I’m raving,
There's nothing here worth saving.

Tell me now, what more do you need?
Take me to Walter Reed tonight.
Baby I've lost the will for fighting
Over everything.
Well there's a few things I gotta say
And make no mistake, I'm mad…
'Cause every good thing I've had
Abandoned me.

All I want to do is hide.
It's graduation day
And everything I learned inside
Didn't seem to pay.
I've had my fill of palm trees
And lighting up Grauman's Chinese.

Tell me now, what more do you need?
Take me to Walter Reed tonight.
Baby I've lost the will for fighting
Over everything
And there's a few things I gotta say.
Make no mistake, I'm mad.
'Cause every good thing I had
Abandoned me.

A sad and lonesome me.

I'm the walking wounded
And I'd say it to your face
But I can't find my place.

So tell me now, what more do you need?
Take me to Walter Reed tonight.
Baby I've lost the will for fighting
Over everything
And there's a few things I gotta say.
Make no mistake, I'm mad
'Cause every good thing I had
Abandoned me.

A sad and lonesome me.
A sad and lonesome me.
A sad and lonesome me.

Michael Penn

Thursday, January 17, 2008

Tears and Rain


How I wish I could surrender my soul;
Shed the clothes that become my skin;
See the liar that burns within my needing.
How I wish I'd chosen darkness from cold.
How I wish I had screamed out loud,
Instead I've found no meaning.

I guess it's time I run far, far away; find comfort in pain,
All pleasure's the same: it just keeps me from trouble.
Hides my true shape, like Dorian Gray.
I've heard what they say, but I'm not here for trouble.
It's more than just words: it's just tears and rain.

How I wish I could walk through the doors of my mind;
Hold memory close at hand,
Help me understand the years.
How I wish I could choose between Heaven and Hell.
How I wish I would save my soul.
I'm so cold from fear.

I guess it's time I run far, far away; find comfort in pain,
All pleasure's the same: it just keeps me from trouble.
Hides my true shape, like Dorian Gray.
I've heard what they say, but I'm not here for trouble.
Far, far away; find comfort in pain.
All pleasure's the same: it just keeps me from trouble.
It's more than just words: it's just tears and rain.

Tears and Rain.

Tears and Rain.

Far, far away; find comfort in pain,
All pleasure's the same: it just keeps me from trouble.
It's more than just words: it's just tears and rain.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Je crois entendre encore


I think I can still hear,
hidden under the palm-trees,
her tender and sonorous voice
singing like a dove's.
O bewitching night,
exquisite rapture,
O delightful memory,
mad elation, sweet dream!

Under the light of the stars
I can almost see her
slightly opening her long veils
to the tepid evening breeze.

Michel Carré

Thursday, January 10, 2008

We Danced


Reborn and shivering
Spat out on new terrain
Unsure, unconvincing
this faint and shaky hour

Day one, day one
Start over again
Step one, step one
I'm barely making sense
For now I'm faking it
'Til I'm psuedo-making it
From scratch, begin again
But this time I as "I"
And not as "we"

Gun-shy and shivering
Tear it without a hand
Feign brave but still intent
Little and hardly here

Day one, day one
Start over again
Step one, step one
I'm barely making sense
For now I'm faking it
'Til I'm psuedo-making it
From scratch, begin again
But this time I as "I"
And not as "we"

Eyes wet,
Toward wide open freight
If God is taking bias,
I pray he wants to lose

Day one, day one
Start over again
Step one, step one
I'm barely making sense
For now I'm faking it
'Til I'm psuedo-making it
From scratch, begin again
But this time I as "I"
And not as "we"

A. Morissette

Sunday, January 06, 2008

Stars



HOW countlessly they congregate
O’er our tumultuous snow,
Which flows in shapes as tall as trees
When wintry winds do blow!—

As if with keenness for our fate, 5
Our faltering few steps on
To white rest, and a place of rest
Invisible at dawn,—

And yet with neither love nor hate,
Those stars like some snow-white 10
Minerva’s snow-white marble eyes
Without the gift of sight.

Robert Frost