Scratch the Christian and you find the pagan - spoiled.
quote by Israel Zangwill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Pagan Place
How did he come here?
Who gave him the key?
Slipped it in his hand
So secretly
And who put the colour
Like lines on his face?
Brought him here
To a pagan place
Now who shot his arrow?
How high did it fly?
When he tipped it with poison
Did he even know why?
What unseen hand
Brought him face to face to face to face with
All this and more
In a pagan place?
Come into my parlour
Sail in at my shore
Drink my soul dry
There is always more
There is always more after now
Fly on my carpet
Look into my face
See the heart of man
In a pagan
In a pagan
In a pagan
In a pagan
In a pagan
Pagan...
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You've Been Spoiled
Yes.
You've been spoiled.
And I...
No longer guess...
I am the reason and cause of it.
From the very beginning,
When I gifted you...
With my best 'anyone' could get.
And delivered that to you,
So happy you were.
And to me that was expressed.
Yes.
You've been spoiled.
And I...
No longer guess...
I am the reason and cause of it.
I feel it each time,
When you rush to find...
What it is I've left.
Believing it easy and simple for me...
To create for you something great.
Something to leave your mind teased and pleased.
You've been spoiled and that is because of me!
And now my very best...
Gets less of your attention,
With your inquisitive curiousness.
Now you get upset with a disrespect...
If you find an undotted 'i' or an uncrossed 't',
As you closely inspect.
Yes.
You've been spoiled.
And I...
No longer guess...
I am the reason and cause of it.
I am the reason,
You now mumble your indignities...
To me,
Under your breath!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Pagan Baby
Pagan baby, wont you walk with me?
Pagan baby, come on home with me.
Pagan baby, take me for a ride.
Roll me, baby, roll your big, brown eyes.
Yeah! ooh! ooh!
Pagan baby, let me make your name.
Drive it, baby, drive your big love game.
Pagan baby, what you got, I need.
Dont be savin, spread your love on me.
Aah! mm-mm-mm!
Pagan baby, now wont you rock with me?
Pagan baby, lay your love on me.
Yeah, yeah!
Aah! hey, hey!
Aah! hey! yeah!
Hey! hey! haaaaaaay!
song performed by by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spoiled Girl
(simon/kunkel/payne)
When you got a pretty boy
You want a smart one
When you got a smart one
You want him pretty
When you got one whos all over you
You wish hed hold back
Then when hes being cool
You want him to attack
Spoiled girl, living in her own world
Spoiled girl, thinks of nothing but herself
Someones there to cut her hair
Will you wear it up or down
What, no bubbles for the bath?
Send the chauffeur into town
Youll have fun tonight
Now youre gonna call him up
hi? you say Ill call you back?
He waits and waits but no such luck
Spoiled girl, living in her own world
Spoiled girl, thinks of nothing but herself
When you want her, you cant have her
When you need her you cant find her
She is busy keeping dizzy with the business of a little
Spoiled girl, living in her own world
Spoiled girl, thinks of nothing but herself
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Itch and Scratch
You’re just like an itch
that keeps coming back.
Every time I itch
I have to scratch, scratch, scratch.
Just like a train
on a railroad track
You go away today
and tomorrow come back.
Try taking an aeroplane
instead of a car,
then hop on a rocket
to a distant star.
You’re just like an itch
that keeps coming back.
Every time I itch
I have to scratch, scratch, scratch.
And just like an itch
you’ve got under my skin,
this is a situation
that I just can’t win.
Please give me a break
and get off my back.
Get out of here
and don’t come back.
You’re just like an itch
that keeps coming back.
Every time I itch
I have to scratch, scratch, scratch.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Scratch My Back
(words & music by giant - baum - kaye)
One good turn deserves another
Be my love, Ill be your lover
Its all part of natures laws
If youll scratch my back then Ill scratch yours.
If youll scratch my back then Ill scratch your back
Like two peas in a pack, lets get rid of our itch together, hmm
Joy they say is in the giving
Come on give, make life worth living
Your welfare is my concern
Do a favour for me, Ill do one in return
If youll scratch my back then Ill scratch your back
Like two peas in a pack, lets get rid of our itch together, hmm
Scratch me now a little lower
What a feeling do it slower
Thats it, hmm youre getting hot
Well I gotta admit, you just hit the spot
If youll scratch my back then Ill scratch your back
Like two peas in a pack, lets get rid of our itch together, hmm
If youll scratch my back then Ill scratch your back
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everyone would like to behave like a pagan, with everyone else behaving like a Christian.
quote by Albert Camus
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It looked like a pagan banner planted on a Christian rampart.
quote by Douglas Reed
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The Christian fear of the pagan outlook has damaged the whole consciousness of man.
quote by David Herbert Lawrence
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Indeed, the Founders mentioned the pagan authors in so many heartfelt speeches, pamphlets and letters that today's sweeping references to America's 'Christian' roots and 'Judeo-Christian heritage' ought to be amended. Maybe these terms should be reserved to explain the traditional religions and morality of individuals, families, congregations, small communitities. Politically, our notions of virtue and vice have had another genesis.
quote by Colin Campbell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballade Of A Great Weariness
There's little to have but the things I had,
There's little to bear but the things I bore.
There's nothing to carry and naught to add,
And glory to Heaven, I paid the score.
There's little to do but I did before,
There's little to learn but the things I know;
And this is the sum of a lasting lore:
Scratch a lover, and find a foe.
And couldn't it be I was young and mad
If ever my heart on my sleeve I wore?
There's many to claw at a heart unclad,
And little the wonder it ripped and tore.
There's one that'll join in their push and roar,
With stories to jabber, and stones to throw;
He'll fetch you a lesson that costs you sore:
Scratch a lover, and find a foe.
So little I'll offer to you, my lad;
It's little in loving I set my store.
There's many a maid would be flushed and glad,
And better you'll knock at a kindlier door.
I'll dig at my lettuce, and sweep my floor,
Forever, forever I'm done with woe.
And happen I'll whistle about my chore,
"Scratch a lover, and find a foe."
L'ENVOI
Oh, beggar or prince, no more, no more!
Be off and away with your strut and show.
The sweeter the apple, the blacker the core:
Scratch a lover, and find a foe!
poem by Dorothy Parker
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Mutual Itch One Lonely Night
this mutual each we have
one lonely night
when the moon sails in the
black sky
and the stars are too near
like lilies to the sailboat
on the placid lake,
i scratch my itch
you scratch yours
but what about our backs
those parts that i cannot reach
and you cannot reach
too
we follow the natural law
i'll scratch your back
and you scratch mine
no more no less
we are just
but friends,
tonight
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Confess
It is true.
I confess.
I have been spoiled.
And My Father,
The Almighty...
Knows this confession best.
When I feel I have a need,
And I please My Father...
With deeds I attempt,
And some not successfully...
My Father decides,
To then surprise.
It is true.
I confess.
I have been spoiled.
And My Father,
The Almighty...
Knows this confession best.
When I pray each day,
And express my gratefulness...
I don't take for granted,
Those blessings from My Father...
I know from Him I get.
When I find I struggle,
And I am wet with sweat...
I am comforted by My Father,
Who then allows...
My peace and rest.
It is true.
I confess.
I have been spoiled.
And My Father,
The Almighty...
Knows this confession best.
Before Him I place no 'thing' I value more.
Before My Father,
I profess a love for him that is adored.
My loyalty and devotion,
Is given without thought.
And My Father and I...
Tackle those obstacles,
He assists me to abort.
It is true.
I confess.
I have been spoiled.
And My Father,
The Almighty...
Knows this confession best.
And nothing do I have do I take for granted.
I know from 'WHOM' my gifts have come.
I know from 'WHOM' has 'allowed' this to be done!
It is true.
I confess.
I have been spoiled.
And My Father,
The Almighty...
Knows this confession best.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Pack
A bit of metaphysics or a psychologic catch
Will sit upon my breast all day and scratch and scratch and
scratch. Now isn't it a pity that the ragged thorns of culture Should be tearing at my vitals, as Prometheus's the vulture?
I really have no liking for abstruse and subtle question.
I prefer to laugh in sunshine and to cherish my digestion.
But a pack of eager queries, barking, barking, hound me on,
Until I find an hour of life's pure delight is gone.
poem by Gamaliel Bradford
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Who Is A Christian?
Who is a Christian in this Christian land
Of many churches and of lofty spires?
Not he who sits in soft upholstered pews
Bought by the profits of unholy greed,
And looks devotion, while he thinks of gain.
Not he who sends petitions from the lips
That lie to-morrow in the street and mart.
Not he who fattens on another's toil,
And flings his unearned riches to the poor,
Or aids the heathen with a lessened wage,
And builds cathedrals with an increased rent.
Christ, with Thy great, sweet, simple creed of love,
How must Thou weary of Earth's 'Christian' clans,
Who preach salvation through Thy saving blood
While planning slaughter of their fellow men.
Who is a Christian? It is one whose life
Is built on love, on kindness and on faith;
Who holds his brother as his other self;
Who toils for justice, equity and PEACE,
And hides no aim or purpose in his heart
That will not chord with universal good.
Though he be pagan, heretic or Jew,
That man is Christian and beloved of Christ.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Anammelech
They have a mixture oif the worship of Yahweh and that of the Pagan Gods!
For they really love their Pagan Gods and Godesses;
And their respective pagan customs are leading them into the paths of the dark bush,
But, who can tell them the truth?
For i am Anammelech in the land of my muse in search of the truth always;
So, tell me if you've found the right way that leads to the Path of the Truth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Ginger cat (Villanelle)
I am a spoiled, lazy ginger cat
I am lying on the sofa all day long
And yes, i am a cat that is very fat
I am posh and proud to be your pet
I n your eyes i never do wrong
I am a spoiled, lazy ginger cat
I will not chase that dirty rat
I am OK, on the sofa is were i belong
And yes, i am a cat that is very fat
You can bash the rat with a bat
Cook him in a pot, feed him to Mr Chong
I am a spoiled, lazy ginger cat
Other cats see me and they frat
I am a top cat, i lead with a midnight song
And yes i am a cat that is very fat
I am that fat cat who sat on the mat
all morning, until you heard the gong
I am a spoiled, lazy ginger cat
And yes, i am a cat that is very fat
poem by Milica Franchi De Luri
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It makes no difference who or what you are, old or young, black or white, pagan, Jew, or Christian, I want to love you all and be loved by you all, and I mean to have your love.
quote by Victoria Woodhull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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W. Lloyd Garrison Standard
Vegetarian, non-resistant, free-thinker, in ethics a Christian;
Orator apt at the rhine-stone rhythm of Ingersoll.
Carnivorous, avenger, believer and pagan.
Continent, promiscuous, changeable, treacherous, vain,
Proud, with the pride that makes struggle a thing for laughter;
With heart cored out by the worm of theatric despair;
Wearing the coat of indifference to hide the shame of defeat;
I, child of the abolitionist idealism --
A sort of Brand in a birth of half-and-half.
What other thing could happen when I defended
The patriot scamps who burned the court house,
That Spoon River might have a new one,
Than plead them guilty? When Kinsey Keene drove through
The card-board mask of my life with a spear of light,
What could I do but slink away, like the beast of myself
Which I raised from a whelp, to a corner and growl?
The pyramid of my life was nought but a dune,
Barren and formless, spoiled at last by the storm.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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