I love a lot of Colorado and upper Utah. I think some of the most beautiful terrain is upper BC.
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Stiff Upper Lip
(young - young)
Well I was out on a drive
On a bit of a trip
Lookin for thrills
To get me some kicks
Now I warn you ladies
I shoot from the hip
I was born with a stiff
Stiff upper lip
Like a dog in a howl
I bite everything
And Im big and Im drawl
And Ill ball your thing
I keep a stiff upper lip
And I shoot from the hip
I keep a stiff upper lip
And I shoot
And I shoot
Shoot from the hip
Yeah I shoot from the hip
Now listen
Well Im workin it out
And Ive done everything
And I cant reform no
Can you feel my sting
Babe I keep a stiff upper lip
And I shoot from the hip, yeah
I keep a stiff upper lip
And I shoot
And I shoot
And I shoot, shoot, shoot
Shoot from the hip
Well Im out on the prowl
And Ill ball your thing
I got the teeth thatll bite you
Can you feel my sting
Babe I keep a stiff upper lip
And I shoot from the hip
I keep a stiff upper lip
And I shoot shoot shoot from the hip
I got a (stiff upper lip)
Better believe me (stiff upper lip)
Comin down (stiff upper lip)
See my (stiff upper lip)
Yeah I got a (stiff upper lip)
Stiff upper lip
Stiff upper lip
I got a stiff upper lip
I got a stiff upper lip
Stiff upper lip
Stiff upper lip
And I shoot
And I shoot
And I shoot
Shoot from the hip
2000, j. albert & son, pty.
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crazy for the up
You adopt what the upper class practise.
You put on what the upper class wear.
You ape the upper class in all forms
With strain to be up in their estimation.
10.11.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Airways
Two ways
Upper and lower.
Voice box is there
At the top
Words and poems
In its natural form
With the mob.
When air passes
With words
It is amazing.
Poet is musician
Of life
with pleasant
And muster.
Two ways
Upper and lower
In this airways
Human instincts
Is to go upper
And upper to
Make life better
And better.
In either ways
Poet is the
Lighter and
The craftmaster.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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First Poem From The
Pyotr Pavlovich (entering the room):
Zdagger Upper Ooster Ooster
I am carrying someone's elbow
Zdagger Upper Ooster Ooster
Where's Professor De Dispenchin?
Zdagger Upper Ooster Ooster
Where on Earth are office hours?
If this little clockie dangling
Its two weights a-reaching down
Oldish clockie while still pending
Flew an arc without a frown
Zdagger Upper Ooster Ooster
I broke down the rhythm of time
Carabeester on a booster
Works instead of Zdagger Upper
Hand is stretched ever farther
Yielding something arrow-handed
From one minute to another
Rushing blindly as if branded
Right from milk-white clockface down
Pancake's winding Ooster Ooster
Tightly wrapped in dressing-gown
Proudly sits the Carabeester
He is during office seconds
Looking into metered engine
So the time will not be wayward
Like Professor De Dispenchin
Like Andrey Semyonych Zdagger
Single-handed Zdagger Upper
Cares for Zdagger Upper Ooster
His lost hand adjusting aptly
Fixing fingers with a hammer
Zdagger Upper he is nailing
Zdagger Upper Ooster them.
poem by Daniil Ivanovich Kharms
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Upper Me
The ego and the id
Lead vocal: eric stewart
The time has come the wild one said
When we must all decide
We cannot carry on this way
And so we must divide
The road before us runs both ways
So which one do you choose
But all will not go well if you refuse
What becomes of the upper me when the fire burns in my mind
How can I leave my ego behind
I return to another me or I lose the will to survive
How can I keep my hero alive
It seems to me the wise one said
That mountains are so high
The river is too deep to cross
And none of us can fly
But I believe that compromise
Is what is needed here
Or surely we become the things we fear
But the good in me dont wanna believe
That the evil me is so
And a voice somewhere said do as you please
But the upper me said no, no, no, no, no, no
What becomes of the upper me when the fire burns in my mind
How can I leave my ego behind
I return to another me or I lose the will to survive
How can I keep my hero alive
To survive
How can I keep my hero alive
song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Well, I mean, we are developing the other parts, and we can't give quite all our attention to the upper part, but soon the lower parts will be developed, and the upper part and the lower part will become partners, that will be wonderful.
quote by Ninette de Valois
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Indelibleness
An indelible tattoo of Mary
Faintly graces my upper left arm.
I loved her but we never married,
Our love lost its meaningful charm.
So long! To the faded memories
Those years of yore all but disappeared;
Bygone are the glints of yesterdays
As I gaze at the scar once revered:
Abated colors now take the place
Where once her name etched brilliantly:
M-A-R-Y inked in upper case
Is now lost unrecognizably.
As long as this mark’s a part of me
Mary remains in my reveries.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Stiff Upper Lip
What made good queen bess
Such a great success?
What made wellington
Do what he did at waterloo?
What makes every englishman
A fighter through and through?
It isnt roast beef, or ale, or home, or mother
Its just a little thing they sing to one another
Stiff upper lip, stout fella
Carry on, old fluff
Chin up, keep muddling through
Stiff upper lip, stout fella
When the goings rough
Pip pip to old man trouble
And a toodly-oo too
Carry on through thick and thin
If you feel youre in the right
Does the fighting spirit win?
Quite, quite, quite, quite, quite
Stiff upper lip, stout fella
When youre in the stew
Sober or blotto, this is your motto
Keep muddling through
(instrumental bridge)
When a bounder starts to hiss
You must give him blow for blow
Make the blighter say, whats this?
'ullo, 'ullo, 'ullo, 'ullo, 'ullo
Stiff upper lip, stout fella
When youre in the stew
Sober or blotto, this is your motto
Keep muddling through
Keep muddling through
Keep muddling through
Keep muddling through
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Garden Seat
Its former green is blue and thin,
And its once firm legs sink in and in;
Soon it will break down unaware,
Soon it will break down unaware.
At night when reddest flowers are black
Those who once sat thereon come back;
Quite a row of them sitting there,
Quite a row of them sitting there.
With them the seat does not break down,
Nor winter freeze them, nor floods drown,
For they are as light as upper air,
They are as light as upper air!
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Lets Do It
Cole porter
Chinks do it. japs do it
Upper lapland little lapps do it
Lets do it
Lets fall in love
In spain the best upper sets do it
Lithuanians and lits do it
Lets do it
Lets tall in love
The dutch in old amsterdam do it
Not to mention the finns
Folks in siam do it
Think of siamese twins
Some argentines without means do it
People say in boston even beans do it
Lets do it
Lets fall in love
Cold cape cod clams
gainst their wish do it
Even lazy jelly fish do it
Lets do it
Lets fall in love
Electric eels I might add do it
Though it shocksem I know
Why ask if shad do it
Waiter bring me shad roe
In the shallow shoals english soles do it
Goldfish in privacy of bowls do it
Lets do it
Well do it
Lets do it
Lets fall in love
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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a friend from Utah
she finally finds her way in Utah
watching the sunset there on a desert
she sent me a letter telling me that she never saw such a beautiful sunset
as that
in Utah but i was not really amazed with what she thinks she saw as beauty
because i still believe
that beauty still lies to the beholden
(i know you may think i am wrong, you think of the
beholder
a cliche of the almost forgotten)
but that is not really the point
that is,
a dog must know the hands of the person who feeds it
and wag its tail
to manifest gratitude and
admiration
what amazes me still is the last poem she sent me while i also watch
the most beautiful sunset at the Dipolog Boulevard
she says she has nothing to prove to herself
she burns everything
she is finally quitting and whatever that means i refuse to make any
conclusion
i still love it here because it is home and i too agree, i have nothing to prove
to myself
or anybody else, alien or otherwise
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Cloud Nine[Doin Fine]
Darling part of my life it wasnt very pretty. see, I was born and raised
In the slums of the city.it was a 1 room shack and slept 10 other children
Beside me.we hardly had enough food or room to sleep. it was hard times. i
Needed some thing to ease my troubled mind.
Listen, my father didnt know the meaning of work. he disrespected mama and
Treated us like dirt.i left home seeking a job that I never did find.depressed
And down hearted I took to cloud nine.
Im doin fine, up here, on cloud nine. listen 1 more time, Im doin fine, up
Here, on cloud nine.
Folks down there tell me, they say give your self a chance son dont let life
Pass you by,but the world of reality is a rat race where only the strongly
Survive.its a dog-eat-dog world and that aint no lie. it aint even safe no
More, to walk the streets at night.
Im doin fine, on cloud nine.
Let me tell you about cloud nine. cloud nine, you can be what you want to
Be,(cloud nine)you aint got no responsibilities,and every man,every man is
Free (cloud nine) your a million miles from reality, reality I wanna say upper,
Higher,upper, up, up and away.
I wanna say I love the life I live, and Im gonna live the life I love, up here
On cloud nine.
I, i, i, i, i, Im riding high on cloud nine.
Your as free as a bird in flight, (cloud nine)theres
No difference between day and night (cloud nine)its a world of love and
Harmony, (cloud nine) your a million miles from reality,reality wonna say
Upper,higher,upper, up,up and away. cloud nine you can be what you wanna
Be,(cloud nine)you aint got no responsibilities,(cloud nine)every man and his
Mind is free,your a million miles from reality, you can be what you wanna be.
Im feelin fine on cloud nine.
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alone
He put the gum in his right
lower pocket, where it belonged;
The Certs in this heat melted, staining his right
upper pocket, a crying shame.
The green stone went in his left
upper pocket along with the key to nothing;
the robin's egg nestled in his left
lower pocket but never hatched.
He crisscrossed the flats between
the two rocky spires and, every day,
wished he had a compass
or to find anything that could control
his life's motion.
But he never found that thing,
except for thre head-bones of a cow,
and he could not contrive a place
for them, so he buried them and mourned:
Later on he died alone.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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The Beehive State
Randy Newman
Since you're the delegate from Kansas
Will you kindly take the floor
Now tell us, what is Kansas thinkin'
What is Kansas for
Kansas is for the farmer
We stand behind the little man
We need a fire house in Topeka
So help us if you can
I see the gentleman from Utah
Our friendly Beehive State
How can we help you, Utah
How can we make you great
We got to irrigate our deserts
We got to get some things to grow
We got to tell this country about Utah
'Cause nobody seems to know
song performed by by Doobie Brothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Beehive State
Since youre the delegate from kansas
Will you kindly take the floor
And tell us what kansas is thinking
And what is kansas for?
Well kansas is for the farmer
We stand behind the little man
And we need a firehouse in topeka
So help us if you can
I see the delegate from utah
Our friendly beehive state
How can we help you, utah?
How can we make you great?
Well, we got to irrigate our deserts
So we can get some things to grow
And we got to tell this country about utah
'cause nobody seems to know
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love Love Love
Love is not
Love...
Love is sex...!
Love is not
Love
Love is money...!
Love is not
Love....
Love is dream...!
Love is not
Love
Love is states...!
Love is not
Love
Love is sin....!
Love is not
Love
Love is funney...!
Love is not
Love
Love is religion...!
Love is not
Love
Love is nation...!
Love is not
Love
Love is black....!
Love is not
Love
Love is white...!
What is this....! ?
This is a list of love's
But..nothing....!
Love is a love
Upper the earth
And under the sky
For any thing with
EVERY thing for love love love
Making each one with love
Love love love...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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You've Got to Let This Go
You want the upper hand.
You want to make demands.
You want it clear as crystal,
At your command.
But you've got to let this go!
You want the upper hand.
You want to make demands.
You want it clear as crystal,
At your command.
But you've got to let this go!
Yes you've got to let this go!
Then you want to fake a need,
That your need is there to please...
All the people,
That have you in a neck hold.
But you've got to let this go!
Yes you've got to let this go!
You want the upper hand.
But you've got to let this go!
You want to make demands.
Yes you've got to let this go!
And you want it clear as crystal,
At your command.
Then you want to fake a need,
That your need is there to please...
All the people,
That have you in a neck hold.
But,
You've...
Got to let this go!
Yes you've got to let this go!
Yes you've got to let this go!
Yes you've got to let this go!
You want the upper hand.
You want to make demands.
You want it clear as crystal,
At your command.
But you've got to let this go!
Yes you've got to let this go!
You want it clear as crystal,
At your command.
But you've got to let this go!
Yes you've got to let this go!
You want it clear as crystal,
At your command.
But you've got to let this go!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Colorado Girl
A Colorado girl captures my eye,
Such a beauty I have come by.
Eyes as blue as the lovely sea,
Hair as blonde as blonde can be.
I wish I knew this Colorado girl,
Who knows what emotions we could unfurl.
If only I could hear her voice,
That alone would make me rejoice.
A Colorado girl too far away,
A distance that leaves me in utter dismay.
If only she could hear my plea,
For love that may forever never be.
poem by Adam McKim
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The five of Pentecost - to Marsilio Ficino
Sometimes you spell it out for us:
God’s earth – the matter of the universe,
holding without form at first,
all God’s love, grace, mercy, pardon,
as our earth which was yet to nourish;
God’s water – as His love,
flowing now; now binding hearts together;
baptizing with His grace;
God’s fire – that warms, consumes,
shines as the beauty of His blessing;
a light so bright, we cannot see His form..
What then, would you say
of God’s own air? That holy spirit,
that blows His grace as blow it will;
breathes through His boundless space
upon the souls in their own upper air;
And what then of God’s fifth element –
the ether, humming His vibrations?
what of the sound of God?
what may we listen to, or sound, of Him?
The upper room
of house, of soul;
a rushing, mighty wind
whose sound blew through their lives
with many voices; tongues of flame
around their heads;
and as much spirit, love, and grace,
and as much nourishment and daily bread
as man to man;
as soul to soul;
as godself to godself;
perhaps, as John said,
remembering that Pentecost -
one word.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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An Almost Made Up Poem
I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny
blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny
they are small, and the fountain is in France
where you wrote me that last letter and
I answered and never heard from you again.
you used to write insane poems about
ANGELS AND GOD, all in upper case, and you
knew famous artists and most of them
were your lovers, and I wrote back, it’ all right,
go ahead, enter their lives, I’ not jealous
because we’ never met. we got close once in
New Orleans, one half block, but never met, never
touched. so you went with the famous and wrote
about the famous, and, of course, what you found out
is that the famous are worried about
their fame –– not the beautiful young girl in bed
with them, who gives them that, and then awakens
in the morning to write upper case poems about
ANGELS AND GOD. we know God is dead, they’ told
us, but listening to you I wasn’ sure. maybe
it was the upper case. you were one of the
best female poets and I told the publishers,
editors, “ her, print her, she’ mad but she’
magic. there’ no lie in her fire.” I loved you
like a man loves a woman he never touches, only
writes to, keeps little photographs of. I would have
loved you more if I had sat in a small room rolling a
cigarette and listened to you piss in the bathroom,
but that didn’ happen. your letters got sadder.
your lovers betrayed you. kid, I wrote back, all
lovers betray. it didn’ help. you said
you had a crying bench and it was by a bridge and
the bridge was over a river and you sat on the crying
bench every night and wept for the lovers who had
hurt and forgotten you. I wrote back but never
heard again. a friend wrote me of your suicide
3 or 4 months after it happened. if I had met you
I would probably have been unfair to you or you
to me. it was best like this.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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