Well, when I was a kid, if my father was witnessing something that he thought was particularly outrageous or he was looking at some sort of a question that he thought lacked proper definition, he would say, Well, at least Jesse James had the honor to wear a mask.
quote by Richard Neal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Outrageous
Outrageous, outrageous
(they say) Im outrageous
Its the rage
Im gonna wear what I will and spend some
And I will be dress to kill dontcha know
And when the lights come up
Im ready Im ready
To put on a show with class
And if I clash its cause I want to
What a show and I want everyone to know
Theyre gonna fly up, get an eyeful
Everything thats craved from me
Im gonna be, Im gonna be outrageous
Outrageous
(they say) Im outrageous
Its the rage its the rage
With my long black hair hanging way down to my
Ask me no questions and Ill tell you no lies
Dont tell me what to do dont tell me what to be
See I dont trust anybody elses traits about make-up and me
Well in my show I let everything go
Is what you want is whatcha wanna see from me
But when the curtain comes down
And youre on your way back home
I change into my jeans that are split at the seam
I grab my funky black jacket and make quite a racket
You drive like youre an outlaw
Cause everything thats craved from me
Im gonna be, Im gonna be outrageous
So outrageous
Im outrageous honey yes a rage
Its the rage
Outrageous, outrageous
Im outrageous
Its the rage its a rage
Outrageous, outrageous
They say Im outrageous
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Right Mask
One night a poem came up to a poet
From now on, it said, you must wear a mask.
What kind of mask? asked the poet.
A rose mask, said the poem.
I've used it already, said the poet,
I've exhausted it.
Then wear the mask that's made out of
a nightingale's song, use that mask.
Oh, it's an old mask, said the poet,
it's all used up.
Nonsense, said the poem, it's the perfect mask,
still, try on the god mask,
now that mask illuminates heaven.
It's a tight mask, said the poet,
and the stars crawl about in it like ants.
Then try on the troubador's mask, or the singer's mask,
try on all the popular masks.
I have, said the poet, but they fit so easily.
The poem was getting impatient,
it stamped its feet like a child,
it screamed. Then try on your own face,
try the one mask that terrifies,
the mask only you could possibly use,
the mask only you could wear out.
The poet tore at his face til it bled,
this mask? he yelled, this mask?
Yes, said the poem, yes.
But the poet was tired of masks,
he had lived too long with them,
he snatched at the poem and stuck it in his face.
Its screams were muffled, it wept, it tried to be lyrical,
it wriggled into his eyes and mouth.
Next day his friends were afraid of him,
he looked so distorted.
Now it's the right mask, said the poem, the right mask.
It clung to him lovingly and never let go again.
poem by Brian Patten
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Jesse James
(neil morris)
I'll tell you about jesse and frank james
My grandfather was personally acquainted with them
My grandfather lived in the southern edge of baxter county, arkansas
And they stayed all night with him lots of nights
And my grandfather told me there was a lot of those robberies that was layed to jesse and frank james
And he knew they didn't do it 'cause they was at his place when it happened
But you couldn't tell the public that
When they get their minds made up that somebody's done something
Why the public's gonna stick to it anyway
My grandfather, he knew them as boys
And they could come to his place and go without anybody paying attention 'cause nobody expected them
Down in arkansas, see, 'cause they was from missouri
Now that's the story that my grandfather told me when i was just a boy
And he said that frank james, at that world's fair,
I think it was 1901 in st. louis him and jesse were both there
My grandfather and frank james were together there
And that frank james offered to bring jesse there alive
He said that the man that the ford boys killed wasn't jesse james at all
But the fellow they killed was just about the size of jesse and he was red headed
And he wasn't any relation to the fords
See, jesse james was a known cousin to charles and bob ford
That's what my grandfather said
He said jesse and frank were not even in that part of the country when that fellow was killed
And the ford boys, why, they collected a thousand dollars for killing jesse james!
Now the song says that the ford boys killed jesse
None of us up here in the mountains believe that, no sir!
song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jesse
Oh jesse, you better start thinkin about saving your neck
Oh jesse, you put on that leather jacket like you put on respect
You got cleats on your boots and a woman who shoots everytime you shuffle out the stage door
And darling jesse, do you know what its all for?
Ah jesse, your manager brought by them eight by ten glossies of your band
Oh jesse, he says you wear cross around your neck and come on with nails in your hands
With your insides showing and your new york band blowin them old chicago blues
Ah jesse, cant you see youre the one jesse
Ah sonny, this time its you
Well jesse, your child is slobbering all over your pants
And jesse, your wife has fallen into a trance
Shes got eyes that tell no lies
Shes seen so many wars
Ah be a good boy jesse, tell her she dont have to look no more.
Well jesse, he knows all the tricks to get the crowd reeling
Oh and jesse, ya he rocks em with that old soul feeling
And he walks off the stage in a self-adoring haze
And gets shoved right out the door
Whoa jesse, cant you see now boy that thats what its all about jesse
Not even time to do that old played out encore
Whoa jesse
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jesse James
Jesse James was a lad who killed many a man.
He robbed the Glendale train.
He stole from the rich and he gave to the poor,
He’d a hand and a heart and a brain.
Jesse had a wife to mourn for his life,
Three children, they were brave,
But that dirty little coward that shot Mister Howard,
Has laid Jesse James in his grave.
It was Robert Ford, that dirty little coward,
I wonder how he does feel,
For he ate of Jesse’s bread and he slept in Jesse’s bed,
Then he laid Jesse James in his grave.
Jesse was a man, a friend to the poor,
He’d never see a man suffer pain,
And with his brother Frank he robbed the Chicago bank,
And stopped the Glendale train.
It was on a Wednesday night, the moon was shining bright,
He stopped the Glendale train,
And the people all did say for many miles away,
It was robbed by Frank and Jesse James.
It was on a Saturday night, Jesse was at home,
Talking to his family brave,
Robert Ford came along like a thief in the night,
And laid Jesse James in his grave.
The people held their breath when they heard of Jesse’s death,
And wondered how he ever came to die,
It was one of the gang called little Robert Ford,
That shot Jesse James on the sly.
Jesse went to his rest with his hand on his breast,
The devil will be upon his knee,
He was born one day in the county of Clay
And he came from a solitary race.
This song was made by Billy Gashade,
As soon as the news did arrive,
He said there was no man with the law in his hand
Could take Jesse James when alive.
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No One Can Separate Us Ever
You know I love You...
And would never place anything else,
Above You!
YOU are My Father,
I am Your son.
Without question...
Those doubts have gone from me.
Eternity with You is my destiny!
I view Your creations with eyes opened,
And cleared of delusions that once sat
Upon my troubled mind!
I know Your power...
And it would be senseless to believe,
I am not part of it!
All the time with me You visit!
When I sit masquerading with things to impress...
I know I have distanced You from me,
And that leads to my duress...
As I make attempts to surpress,
With depression on a heavy chest!
That once kept me stressed,
To defeat my very best...
Attracting woes and unhappiness!
YOU are My Father,
I am Your son.
Without question...
And without hesitation,
I know I can come to You, My Father
To demand obstacles on my path be removed!
I want to prove my faith with every step I take.
I am here on this Earth to do Your will!
I've emptied myself of evil deeds of others...
And druthers they have,
They would love to see me fulfill!
I'm not having that tax me...
Like the strife of daily living,
Or witnessing others who live unforgiving.
YOU are My Father,
I am Your son.
Without question...
And without doubt,
I know You are there...
To help remove all sorrows or 'bouts'
Of struggles I fight that might incite my despair!
I am too aware You are there,
And everywhere I cast shadows!
YOU are My Father,
I am Your son.
Without question...
And no one can separate us,
Ever!
You know I love You...
And would never place anything else,
Above You!
YOU are My Father,
I am Your son.
Without question...
Those doubts have gone from me.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh So Simple Question
I have a question
I have a simple thought
I am the border obsession
I am the clever, the taught
You have my aggression
You have a complication
You are an angry expression
You are the unheard conversation
We have a serious problem
Something simple yet trying
You understand, you look solemn
You know exactly what question I’m implying
Now concentrate, ask it now
Your eyes beg not to be told
Tell it now, but tell it how?
How to tell this question I hold
Wait! Look at your eyes
Now desperate to know
The question I hide
The question I knew not long ago
NO! I no longer remember
The simple question I wanted to ask
That cold day, in that snowy December
Oh how I hate this shy mask
Maybe I will once again
Think of a simple question
Whilst I walk down memory lane
Maybe, one day, you will hear my confession
poem by Rebecca Pepper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Fetus Speaks
How sweet the Autumn breeze
Wafting from my window
Before this Winter freeze
I can see skies are blue;
But how would I know
Or how will I
In truth, I lie
Even as poets do,
Saying life is a race:
How could I win? My chance is lame
How could I lose? I did not play
I could not even see the game,
Because I never came to be.
"To be or not to be"
To me is not a question, never
"To be or not to be"
I was not asked, how could I answer
I am sort of outlawed;
There are many others
Or, maybe, disallowed
By choice of some mothers;
Or, unwanted, in a sense
I could not be Jesse James
To be "Wanted: Dead Or Alive"
Instead, I was led to contrive:
"Unwanted: Dead Or Not Alive"
Could I be just cells as hinted,
Which could be eliminated?
By pills, or prescription,
Forceps or incision,
Herbal concoction,
Lethal injection?
Rules may stop humans from dying,
And could keep one from existing,
If so, make this my epitaph
Maybe, with a small stone seraph:
Here lies John Doe
One of this Earth
But none would know
His date of birth;
And as facts are dim
In a scene of violence
Was he the victim
Or maybe, the evidence?
This, my friend, is my proposal
If accorded proper burial
And not proper waste disposal.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ballad Of Jesse James
Jesse james was a man
And he killed many men
He robbed the glendale train
And he took from the richer
And he gave that to the poorer
Hed a hand and a heart and a brain
Oh jesse had a wife to mourn for his life
Three children they were so brave
But that dirty little coward
That shot mr. howard
Has laid jesse james in his grave
(instrumental)
On wednesday night
When the moon was shining bright
They robbed that glendale train
And the folks from miles about (yeah they can)
They all said without a doubt
It was done by her frankie and jesse james (yes it was)
Oh jessie had a wife, to mourn for his life
Three children they were so brave
But that dirty little coward
That shot mr. howard
Has laid (poor) jesse james in his grave
(instrumental)
Well the people held their breath
When they heard about jesses death (yeah)
And they wondered how poor jesse came to die (how did he die? )
It was one of his guys, called little robert ford
And he shot jessie james on the sly
Oh jessie had a wife to mourn for his life
Three children they were so brave
But that dirty little coward
That shot mr. howard
Has laid jesse james in his grave
Has laid poor jesse in his grave
He laid jesse james in his grave
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Troy
She thought it is real love
But she also seeks for freedom
He thought it is a gift of god
But it is also a hidden curse
They thought it's only a matter of heart
But it becomes a fate of the country
He wants his love back
But actually it is his wounded pride
He excuses it as a battle of honor
But it is actually a war of greed
They thought it is a fair consequence
They didn't count the sacrifice the others should make
Why for love they all could hate
Why for life they all could hurt
He doesn't care about love
All he wants is the glory
He thought it is to fulfill the pledge
Now all he yearns is to go home
They thought it is a simple mission
But actually it forces them to question their loyalty
He thought it is love worth to protect
Even though it costs his life
He always expected to be a great ruler for his kingdom
But he could put it aside and be a good father
They thought it's a part of their duty
But it also a choice of their destiny
Why hero should raise from tragedy
Why lover should bloom from enemy
He thought that love is courage
He wants to prove it by becoming a warrior
He acts like he is a respectable ally
Though he feels like walking on the tip of the sword
They thought they have control for what they doing
But in the end of the day what they got
She has a warning about love
But no one would ever listen to her
She has long be abandoned
Now she would get her revenge
They thought they are too weak to involve with their future
Now they'll struggle with their own power
Why men leave only to fight
Why women left only to pray
When the divine lead their mortal player
And human trapped in their desire
The legend would be born
And the myth would be written
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Very Last Thought
What is the very last thought
that will cross my mind?
Drawing last breath, that thought
not anyone will find.
I'll take it with me
and let it inspire me
to keep me soaring high,
higher than the deep blue sky.
The thought alone is filled with love.
It will not break apart.
It will escape the body I leave behind
and seek a brand new start.
That thought will find its way
and travel to where you'll be
and when it finds its dsetination
that thought will become me.
The question in my last thought
will most probably be
whether or not you'll recognize
that the thought contains me?
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Bench and the Blonde in Black
His Honor walked into the shop
For of shopping his Honor was fond.
Did she blush? Did her eyes indicate shy surprise
In that slim little, trim little blonde?
Did his bachelor heart miss a beat?
Did she flash him a smile as she turned?
Did his Honor smile back at this vision in black?
Said his Honor, 'The case is adjourned.'
His Honor walked into his court.
Said the advocate, 'Shop-ladies lack
Much appeal, I submit, when these dark frocks they fit -'
Said his Honor, 'I like 'em in black.
Yes, I like 'em in black when they're blonde.
And I am not concerned with the cost.
It's a question of taste; and I've no time to waste.'
Said his Honor, 'Your action is lost.'
His Honor walked into the church.
'I will,' breathed his Honor, and beamed
On his blonde who, alack, was no longer in black,
For in ivory satin she gleamed.
Said the clergyman, 'Say after me -'
Said his Honor, 'My true wedded wife. . .
Er - at - sickness and health....and - er - all worldly wealth....'
Said his Honor, 'The sentence is life.'
His Honor walked up and walked down,
Sobbed the blonde, 'But you don't seem to care!
Why, my grey, pink and green are not fit to be seen;
And I haven't a rag fit to wear!
And you always did say I looked nice
In black suits? Twenty guineas? What fun!'
Then she smiled, kissed his neck, as he wrote out the cheque.
Sighed his Honor, 'Your suit, dear, is won.'
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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When The Devil Is Finished With You
jesse james was a legend
jesse james was a killer,
jesse james was shot in the back.
There's a time to wrap it up, a time to begin,
But the devil was finished with him.
Bonnie Parker had a pistol
she robbed banks for a living,
she had the law on her trail,
good things can happen, bad things can occur,
But the devil was finished with her.
some believe in God,
some believe in the devil,
some don't believe anything at all.
you got time to work it out, until your time is through,
and the devil is finished with you
poem by Richard Jarboe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm Still My Father's Child
When I lost my father I put myself under the fatherless, but
Now I know he had to go for me to realise that
I’ve always been blessed with two fathers
When I lost my father I thought everybody you love is bound to leave
But now I know he was just here for a purpose and he had to go
For me to realise that I have a Father that will never leave nor forsake me
When I lost my father I thought it was the end of what we had, but
Now I realise that our relationship was a parable. He has to leave
For me to practice what he taught me with my eternal Father
When I lost my father I thought nobody will ever fill his space, but
He had to leave for me to know my Heavenly Father
For us to have a close relationship that we have now
When I lost my father I though God had taken him away from me, but
Now I understand that he had to go for me
To remain my Father’s child forever.
I AM MY FATHER’S CHILD
poem by Sihle KaPhila Zulu
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Homage To The Turkey......[Humor; Holiday Food]
Carmi suggested this poem paying homage to a bird,
but first I had to consult a book to get a definition of that word.
'Homage' definition #2 is 'special honor or respect....publicly' shown.
Is the special honor therefore having ones flesh cut off ones bones?
Perhaps instead the honor comes in being 'served' with ceremony
at Thanksgiving, when a turkey's status soars above that of baloney.
As a kid I'd join for holiday feasts with assorted kin,
and await the carving of the naked headless bird with the golden skin.
Hours in a hot oven, accompanied by periodic basting,
produced a festive centerpiece which was well worth tasting.
And from its drippings gravy was made to drench potatoes yummy,
and cooked inside the bird was spicy stuffing, soon to fill my tummy.
And when the bones were stripped of meat, with none left for the flies,
I'd seek out the wishbone, the potentially-lucky prize.
So here's to you, the Turkey, who Ben Franklin thought much of.
We hope you rest in avian peace, when you reach Turkey Heaven above.
poem by Bri Edwards
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The Mask
You wear a mask upon your face
So people wont know of your sin and disgrace
Or of the things that you have said and done
And of the life you have ended and then again begun.
You cover up your lines and all of your tears
So no one can see the worries and your fears
Or of the anger and the hate that's on your face
So upon your face a mask you did paste.
But I wonder if anyone really does know
The color of your cheeks or the shape of your nose
Or the saddened bags underneath your eyes
From the guilt you felt from the tears of your lies.
And when you meet people I wonder do they stare
Maybe they think to themselves, who is really behind there
But then you don't care what people might say or ask
As you can conceal all, when you wear your mask.
And so that mask you will wear till your dying days
As it will become you in so many very different ways
But one day in death your mask it will then be removed
Then man and all will stand in sadness, as they see the real you.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Mask That Covers My Pain
I wear a mask,
A mask that covers my pain,
I wear a smile,
A smile to cover my frown,
Secretly I am sad,
No ones here to hold me,
No ones here to love me,
I have no one,
My mask covers the pain in my eyes,
My mask covers the pain in my face,
My mask covers the pain in my heart,
My mask covers the pain in me,
I am but alone,
I am but in pain,
I am the only one,
I put a mask on,
To cover my pain,
poem by Samantha Guinen
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Stupid Questions... Nov 17th,2012
STUPID QUESTIONS… NOV 17TH,2012
BY
JAMES BREDIN
How many babies were killed at the abortion clinics today?
Not a nice question, I know; so please go and stay away,
How many drug-addict injection sites will they allow?
Have we all gone completely nuts, here and now and how?
Will they ever allow assisted suicide or should I ask?
Is this a mortal sin and therefore maybe I should wear a mask,
If we could get binding referendums; would we change?
How do we arrange that or how do we rearrange?
Whether we like it or not; we will all eventually die,
So dying with dignity could, in some sick cases, apply,
Are our politicians so dumb that they don't know this?
Or have they turned into do-nothing Liberals and remiss?
NOV 17TH,2012
poem by James Bredin
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Nothing Else That Can Be Said
There is nothing else that can be said,
Regarding that which has been stated.
'Do you wish for us to clarify your comments.
They seem too profound to be left without definition.
Uh...excuse me.
Do you wish for us to clarify your comments.
They seem too profound to be left without definition.'
~He appears to be plugging his ears with cotton.
And using adhesive tape to cover his mouth.
I thought you said he would jump at the opportunity,
To voice his opinion? ~
'I am sure this is a stunt.'
~Was his exit through that door part of this 'stunt'?
I thought you said you knew him? ~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The proper words in the proper places are the true definition of style.
quote by Jonathan Swift
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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