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Victor Should Have Been A Jazz Musician
I went to a concert, to see nina, simone,
The concert was over, there was still a band playing, the rap up,
The booguh played with his hands, I close my eyes, and look at him,
Victor should have been a jazz musician,
I said to myself, victor should have been a jazz musician,
I looked at his face, and I saw victor, looked at his smile, and I saw victor,
I looked at his hair, and thought,
Victor should have been a jazz musician,
Victor should have been a jazz musician,
And the people dancing on the floor, dancing on the floor, were so high,
You should have seen victor smile, you should have seen victor smile,
As they danced all the while all around on the floor, and he laughed,
Victor should have been a jazz musician,
Oh, victor should have been a jazz musician,
He was playing so nice, the jazz musician,
Ah, ah,
Hes living in a fast beat, in a city thats hot,
Telling all the latinos and puerto ricans, victor seems happy, but he doesnt even know himself, hes gotta look inside to know his first love,
Victor was a jazz musician, he was playing so nice, victor was a jazz musician, (? ) victor was a jazz musician,
Victor loves his music, he loves his music, somewhere, he plays his music, somewhere,
Victor is a jazz musician,
Jazz.
song performed by by Grace Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Victor Galbraith. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The First)
Under the walls of Monterey
At daybreak the bugles began to play,
Victor Galbraith!
In the mist of the morning damp and gray,
These were the words they seemed to say:
'Come forth to thy death,
Victor Galbraith!'
Forth he came, with a martial tread;
Firm was his step, erect his head;
Victor Galbraith,
He who so well the bugle played,
Could not mistake the words it said:
'Come forth to thy death,
Victor Galbraith!'
He looked at the earth, he looked at the sky,
He looked at the files of musketry,
Victor Galbraith!
And he said, with a steady voice and eye,
'Take good aim; I am ready to die!'
Thus challenges death
Victor Galbraith.
Twelve fiery tongues flashed straight and red,
Six leaden balls on their errand sped;
Victor Galbraith
Falls to the ground, but he is not dead;
His name was not stamped on those balls of lead,
And they only scath
Victor Galbraith.
Three balls are in his breast and brain,
But he rises out of the dust again,
Victor Galbraith!
The water he drinks has a bloody stain;
'O kill me, and put me out of my pain!'
In his agony prayeth
Victor Galbraith.
Forth dart once more those tongues of flame,
And the bugler has died a death of shame,
Victor Galbraith!
His soul has gone back to whence it came,
And no one answers to the name,
When the Sergeant saith,
'Victor Galbraith!'
Under the walls of Monterey
By night a bugle is heard to play,
Victor Galbraith!
Through the mist of the valley damp and gray
The sentinels hear the sound, and say,
'That is the wraith
Of Victor Galbraith!'
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Armistice
cease-fires on fingertips everything you want for everything you need trade the future in for history unconditional surrendering im not going to tell you why no im not going to you why armistice in broken hands parades to honor you a marshall plan for me to the victor go the spoils of war the victor owns the pen that writes the past even if you ask
song performed by by Quitter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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With Mine Eyes
I know my life is lit by inner light,
Exciting my insight kept bright to cling...
With a tight grasping hold,
To endure through darkness...
I sought to fight.
Day and night with faith,
I would pray for strength...
To assist the chasing away,
Of those doubts that begged me to fear.
Day and night with faith,
I would pray to remove...
Insurmountable obstacles,
I proved I could and would break through...
IF I wanted to.
And this I did to do.
With mine eyes,
I can see and perceive it.
And with mine eyes...
I am the victor.
I can succeed.
And with mine eyes,
I have received...
With belief,
I can and will achieve.
And with mine eyes,
I can see and perceive it...
I am the victor!
I can and will succeed.
Day and night with faith,
I would pray to remove...
Insurmountable obstacles,
I proved I could and would break through...
IF I wanted to.
And this I did to do.
'Cause with mine eyes,
I can see and perceive it.
I am the victor.
I can and will succeed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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French
(Dedicated to Victor French who died of cancer on June 15,1989)
You starred on Highway to heaven, Carter country and even on Little house on the prairie.
It's sad to know that you are dead and buried.
One moment everything seemed to be fine.
But then we lost you in June of 1989.
Sometimes you had a beard and other times you only had a mustache.
You made a great contribution to TV in the past.
You had a career that shined bright.
But you died at fifty-four and that wasn't right.
When you guest starred on Gunsmoke, you played the bad guy.
People cared about you and hated to see you die.
When you played as the heavy, you never flinched.
Rest in peace, Victor French.
poem by Randy Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He Embraced Death
He embraced Death,
Death, the thought of which,
Made men shiver and abhor it,
Death, which had the reputation,
Of being the ultimate victor,
Death, which could humble,
Even the mightiest.
He embraced Death,
Death, which laughed,
Even at the most robust of men,
Death, which mocked every birth,
Knowing that it would overcome,
Death, which thought,
That it had no challenger.
He embraced Death,
Death, which was mean,
And humiliating in its quest,
Ravaging some of its prey,
Till it gained infinite pleasure,
Death, which never would,
Accept ‘no’ from man or beast.
Yes, He embraced Death,
And took it by the throat,
Nailed it to the Cross,
Till Death in pain cried out,
To the Author of Life,
'You are the Victor'
And Victors will be they who believe in you.
poem by Caleb Jones
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De Scaevola.
DE SCAEVOLA.
Lictorem pro rege necans nunc mutius ultro
Sacrifico propriam concremat igne manum:
Miratur Porsenna virum, paenamque relaxans
Maxima cum obscessis faedera a victor init,
Plus flammis patriae confert quam fortibus armis,
Una domans bellum funere dextra sua.
ENGLISHED.
The hand, by which no king but serjeant dies,
Mutius in fire doth freely sacrifice;
The prince admires the Hero, quits his pains,
And Victor from the seige peace entertains;
Rome's more oblig'd to flames than arms or pow'r,
When one burnt hand shall the whole war devour.
poem by Richard Lovelace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Do not let it be your aim to be something, but to be someone.
quote by Victor Hugo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't think it, ink it.
quote by Mark Victor Hansen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I love all men who think, even those who think otherwise than myself.
quote by Victor Hugo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One believes others will do what he will do to himself.
quote by Victor Hugo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To love is to act.
quote by Victor Hugo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You can only do so much theatre.
quote by Victor Garber
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Men like me are impossible until the day when they become necessary.
quote by Victor Hugo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm very serious about acting.
quote by Victor Garber
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Leadeth Me.
quote by Victor Fleming
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Toleration is the best religion.
quote by Victor Hugo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is the end. But of what? The end of France? No. The end of kings? Yes.
quote by Victor Hugo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To think is of itself to be useful; it is always and in all cases a striving toward God.
quote by Victor Hugo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To contemplate is to look at shadows.
quote by Victor Hugo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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