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A person with a bad name is already half-hanged.
Half The World
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
Half the world hates
What half the world does every day
Half the world waits
While half gets on with it anyway
Half the world lives
Half the world makes
Half the world gives
While the other half takes
Half the world is
Half the world was
Half the world thinks
While the other half does
Half the world talks
With half a mind on what they say
Half the world walks
With half a mind to run away
Half the world lies
Half the world learns
Half the world flies
As half the world turns
Half the world cries
Half the world laughs
Half the world tries
To be the other half
Half of us divided like a torn-up photograph half of us are
Trying to reach the other half
Half the world cares
While half the world is wasting the day
Half the world shares
While half the world is stealing away
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Half The World
Half the world lives,
Half the world makes,
Half the world gives
While the other half takes.
Half the world hates,
Half the world runs away,
Half the world's late,
Half the world praises the day.
Half the world is,
Half the world was,
Half the world thinks,
Half the world does.
Half the world lies,
Half the world burns,
Half the world cries
While the other half turns.
Half the world cares,
Half the world weeps,
Half the world shares,
Half the world keeps.
Half the world sings,
Half the world laughs,
Half the world brings,
Half the world tries to be the other half.
End.
If stupidity were a crime, half the human race would be hanged at every crossroads.
The person who is tired will find time to sleep. A person with a bad name is already half hanged.
When the wind started blowing in the afternoon
When the wind started blowing in the afternoon,
some African red-knobbed coots rose in a screaming row,
while the sun hanged over the water red like fire
and the twilight only lasted moments
while they flew past with slapping wings,
when the wind started blowing in the afternoon,
I felt a light breeze blowing against my cheek,
there was serenity and peace that came to me
while the sun hanged over the water red like fire,
there was a kind of bliss in nature
when dappled Egyptian goose also tried to avoid me,
when the wind started blowing in the afternoon,
I was caught by the sheer beauty,
I heard the call of birds cutting through the reeds,
while the sun hanged over the water red like fire
while the sky was darker and no more azure,
while ducks glide magically through the water,
when the wind started blowing in the afternoon,
the sun hanged over the water red like fire.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ballade of the hours of night
Our love had bloomed fully
when naked you came to me
with a small towel covering you,
when it fell from your body
and your eyes caught mine glittering,
when silence hanged luring between us.
There was a kind of hunger and thirst in me,
when your lips found mine,
with your hair braiding through my fingers
when the alarm slowly counted the time
and we both were longing for something eternal,
when silence hanged luring between us.
Like falling rain was the smell of us both
on the big old fluffy blanket
with your legs and arms crossed over me,
when my heartbeats sounded in my ears,
and there was a much deeper more intense urge
when silence hanged luring between us.
poem by Gert Strydom
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VALE RONALD RYAN (Febuary 1976)
Ronald Ryan was the last person hanged in Victoria.
Shortly after hanging was abolished in Australia.
The barbarism of the procedure,
worse than any Greek tragedy.
No, this wasn't theatre,
this was murder!
We hanged a man to satisfy
a drunken premier's whim.
Therefore the sin of omission
rests with him;
Not the man who pulled the lever.
poem by Jerry Hughes
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Night Shift
‘HELLO! that’s the whistle, be moving.
Wake up! don’t lie muttering there.
What language! your style is improving—
It’s pleasant to hear you at prayer.
Turn out, man, and spare us the blessing.
Crib’s cut, and the tea’s on the brew.
You’ll have to look slippy in dressing
For that was the half-hour that blew.’
‘Half-past! and the night’s simply awful,
The hut fairly shakes in the storm.
Hang night-shifts! They shouldn’t be lawful;
I’ve only had time to get warm.
I notice the hut’s rarely bright, and
The bunk’s always cold as a stone,
Except when I go on at night, and
The half-after whistles have blown.
‘Bob built up that fire just to spite me,
The conscienceless son of a swab!
By Jove! it would fairly delight me
To let Hogan be hanged with his job.
Oh! it’s easy to preach of contentment;
You’re eloquent all on the flute.
Old Nick’s everlasting resentment
Plague Dick if he’s taken my boot!
‘Great Cæsar! you roasted the liquor,
Whoever it was made the tea;
It’s hotter than hell-broth and thicker!
Fried bacon again. Not for me!
Good night, and be hanged! Stir up, Stumpy,
You look very happy and warm;
I’ll hoist half the bark off the humpy
And give you a taste of the storm.’
We laughed as he went away growling:
But down where the wind whipped the creek
The storm like old fury was howling,
And Fred was on top for the week.
‘A devil’s own night for the braceman,’
Muttered Con. ‘It’s a comfort to know
All weathers are one to the faceman,
All shifts are alike down below.’
We slept, and the storm was receding,
The wind moaned a dirge overhead,
When men brought him, broken and bleeding,
And laid him again on the bed.
We saw by the flame burning dimly
The gray hue of death on his face.
The stoker enlightened us grimly:
‘No hope. He was blown from the brace.’
poem by Edward George Dyson
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Exe
there were pictures on the faces
pictures words clear on faces vague
they let them let hang like birds wet
pinned on the wire to dry they hanged them
each edge bridge thought
the water was a suicidal thing
but it was the what they hanged
already dead drip dropp dripping
crossing cursed scar scanned x rayed
through evil hands of time
into a sound beautiful caress
hugged and kissed comforted alive
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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It Nods and Curtseys and Recovers
It nods and curtseys and recovers
When the wind blows above,
The nettle on the graves of lovers
That hanged themselves for love.
The nettle nods, the wind blows over,
The man, he does not move,
The lover of the grave, the lover
That hanged himself for love.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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On Count Voronstov
One half Milord, one half in trade,
One half a sage, one half a dunce,
One half a crook, but here for once
There's every hope he'll make the grade.
poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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Lully, Lulley
Lully, lulley, lully, lulley,
The faucon hath borne my make away.
He bare him up, he bare him down,
He bare him into an orchard brown.
In that orchard there was an halle
That hanged with purpill and pall.
And in that hall there was a bede;
It was hanged with gold so rede.
And in that bed there lithe a knight,
His woundes bleding day and night.
By that bede side kneleth a may,
And she wepeth both night and day.
And by that bede side there stondeth a stone,
Corpus Christi wreten there on.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Just The Wind!
in my dreams...
quite often i am wolf,
running with the pack,
howling in the moonlight!
sometimes a hawk,
gliding spiraled unchained skies...
an old bluesman,
sittin' on a porch pickin'.
a half naked priest,
chanting o'er stormy seas.
a poet, prisoner, woman giving birth,
a man hanged for wrong reasons.
a lover killed by a jealous blade.
a bent over man picking crops,
in someone else's fields...
a drifter, and a searcher,
and on a good night....
just the wind!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Escape.
Let me escape,
From my own machinations,
From my own bitter creations,
I feel like I am in an ice cage,
There's half water and half ice,
I am half frozen and half shaky,
I am half alive and half dead,
I feel like breaking through this cage,
My soul wants to runaway,
Breaking these walls,
Out of my isolation,
Out of my despair,
In this revolution,
Out of this confusion,
And escape,
Out of this hollowness,
Out of this pain, half endured and half erupting,
With this volcanic heart, aching hard,
Out of myself,
Out of this lava I breathe...
Out of this story, untold, unread,
And escape, just escape...
poem by Ayesha Riaz
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Half Blooded Brothers
You my blood half or full were brothers, regardless of what you do to each other, you my brother half or full, .
We keep each other good, you my brother half or full. We take care of each other, because we brothers half or full.
Imma stop trippin, it'll take a while, because im use to bullshittin and prickin, but you my brother half or full.
Stick together we will stay alive, all the bullshit I said, I've been a asshole, shit who hasn't, but you my brother half or full and I guess that's what family does.
Arguments and verbal brutality towards one another is what we do, because we will always be brothers half or full. Blood half or full, it doesn't matter, because we are brothers till the end of time, your my brother half or full.
poem by Arthur V. Miller III
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