I will be sad. I've gotten very attached to Harry and all that goes on in his world, I guess I'll just be kind of tasting every bit of it because it will be the last one.
quote by Mary Grandpre
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black Bruises IV
I can gorge the vile blackness,
the eviscerated acquiescence
like a dog-eats-dog carnival
I can endure the struggle
tasting blotted inks,
tasting cheap champagnes,
tasting one's molting skin,
tasting a chance to begin,
tasting cold greasy dishes,
tasting stark carnal sin,
tasting tar and nicotine,
tasting saline misery,
but am I the only one tasting
these black bruised savors?
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Harry Rag
Ah, tom is young and tom is bold
Tom is as bold as the knights of old
But whenever he gets in a bit of a jam
Theres nothing he wont do to get a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Do anything just to get a harry rag
And he curses himself for the life hes led
And rolls himself a harry rag and puts himself to bed
Ah, toms old ma is a dying lass
Soon they all reckon shell be pushing up the grass
And her bones might ache and her skin might sag
But still shes got the strength to have a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Do anything just to get a harry rag
And she curses herself for the life shes led
And rolls herself a harry rag and puts herself to bed
Ah, bless you tax man, bless you all
You may take some but you never take it all
But if I give it all, I wont feel sad
As long as I got enough to buy a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Do anything just to get a harry rag
And I curse myself for the life Ive led
And roll myself a harry rag and put myself to bed
Ah, the smart young ladies of the land
Cant relax without a harry in their hand
And they light one and they boast and brag
So content because they got a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Do anything just to get a harry rag
And theyll light one and theyll boast and brag
So content because they got a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Ill do anything just to get a harry rag
And I curse myself for the life Ive led
And roll myself a harry rag and put myself to bed
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Harry Rag
Ah, tom is young and tom is bold
Tom is as bold as the knights of old
But whenever he gets in a bit of a jam
Theres nothing he wont do to get a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Do anything just to get a harry rag
And he curses himself for the life hes led
And rolls himself a harry rag and puts himself to bed
Ah, toms old ma is a dying lass
Soon they all reckon shell be pushing up the grass
And her bones might ache and her skin might sag
But still shes got the strength to have a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Do anything just to get a harry rag
And she curses herself for the life shes led
And rolls herself a harry rag and puts herself to bed
Ah, bless you tax man, bless you all
You may take some but you never take it all
But if I give it all, I wont feel sad
As long as I got enough to buy a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Do anything just to get a harry rag
And I curse myself for the life Ive led
And roll myself a harry rag and put myself to bed
Ah, the smart young ladies of the land
Cant relax without a harry in their hand
And they light one and they boast and brag
So content because they got a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Do anything just to get a harry rag
And theyll light one and theyll boast and brag
So content because they got a harry rag
Harry rag, harry rag
Ill do anything just to get a harry rag
And I curse myself for the life Ive led
And roll myself a harry rag and put myself to bed
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Harry the Wu
What can I do, Harry the Wu,
A policeman will come
And ask questions of you,
He'll pull out his book
And his pencil, too,
And look very sternly
At Harry the Wu.
Oh, Harry the Wu, what did you do,
While I was in bed
Going down with the flu,
I didn't get up until
Half past two,
And you're so impatient,
Harry the Wu.
I knew there was something that
I had to do,
I had to get up and feed
Harry the Wu,
That bowl in the fridge of
The left-over stew
Was meant for your dinner,
Harry the Wu.
Oh what can I do, Harry the Wu,
They'll probably lock you
Away in the zoo,
And then you will miss me
And I'll miss you too,
Life is a tragedy,
Harry the Wu.
I thought that you knew,
Harry the Wu,
That there are some things
You are not meant to do,
Now all that is left is
The Postman's shoe,
His hat and his bag
You have eaten them too.
What can I do, Harry the Wu,
You've ripped off the policeman's
Trousers, too,
You'd better go hide in
The chimney flu,
Stop wagging your tail at me
Harry the Wu.
13 April 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Harry Truman
America needs you
Harry truman
Harry could you please come home
Things are looking bad
I know you would be mad
To see your favorite men
Prevail upon the land you love
Americas wondering
How we got here
Harry all we get is lies
Were gettin safer cars
Rocket ships to mars
From men whod sell us out
To get themselves a piece of power
Wed love to hear you speak your mind
In plain and simple ways
Call a spade a spade
Like you did back in the days
You would play piano
Each morning walk a mile
Speak of what was going down
With honesty and style
Americas calling
Harry truman
Harry you know what to do
The world is turnin round and losin lots of ground
Oh harry is there something we can do to save the land we love
Oh woah woah woah
Americas calling
Harry truman
Harry you know what to do
The world is turnin round
And losin lots of ground
Harry is there something we can do to save the land we love
Oh
Harry is there something we can do to save the land we love
Harry
Harry is there something we can do to save the land we love
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everyone's Tasting Fire
Catching fire in my throat
As I leave this place
The bitter taste of it stings my words
But then everyone’s tasting fire
And higher
And higher we go
We learn as we go
The bitter taste of it stings our words
Everyone’s tasting fire
And higher
And higher we go
We learn as we go
The bitter taste of it stings our words
Everyone’s tasting fire
And there’s no sympathy
Cause we’re all
In the same place
Same place
Everyone’s tasting fire
And higher
And higher we go
We learn as we go
Everyone’s tasting fire
No water
Coming to save our lives
Like it was
Almost perfect
Before
Everyone’s tasting fire
And higher
And higher we go
We learn as we go
Everyone was tasting fire
And higher
And higher we went
We learned as we went
That everyone’s tasting fire
And higher
And higher we go
We learn as we go
But if everyone’s tasting fire
Then who’s gonna get the water?
Everyone’s tasting fire
And higher
Who’s gonna get the water?
Everyone’s tasting fire
And higher
And higher
And everyone’s tasting fire
But if everyone’s tasting fire
Then who’s gonna get the water?
Harry
you must be smellin' cherries and strawberries and peaches
and plums
roses and dandelions
special lovin' on the nite I spent with you
it was the best that I've had lately
but it didn't mean anything
and I will be glad when you stop callin' me
harry
don't wanna be your girlfriend
but boy when you want the lovin'
come and see me harry
swore my ever lasting true love to you
said that I need ya I want ya didn't I baby
but I was just kiddin' 'round
and I will be glad when you stop callin' my house
harry
don't wanna be your girlfriend
but boy when you want the lovin'
come and see me harry
it's a shame harry
cause you such a beautiful thing harry
you tell em that you love and I bet you do
but love's not my thing right now harry
all I wanna do is swing
and when you're ready
I'm here for you
please harry
stop callin' me
harry
don't wanna be your girlfriend
but boy when you want the lovin'
feel free to come and see me harry
song performed by by Macy Gray from The ID
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I like New York because you're kind of forced to smell everybody else's funk. So it keeps you biologically attached to the world around you.
quote by Jeffrey Wright
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Journalism is a kind of profession, or craft, or racket, for people who never wanted to grow up and go out into the real world.
quote by Harry Reasoner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Songs Without Words
When they brought him to the Hospital
He was listed as John Doe.
He would have liked the irony-
as Harry Chapin was well known.
His hair was like a lion’s mane
His face both kind and strong
Though doctor’s tried and nurses cried
Harry had sung his last song.
Like Wednesdays’ child with far to go,
He’d been on the road that day.
He was scheduled for a concert
For which he’d take no pay.
He sang songs for the suppers
of the poor and the deprived.
He may not have been “Religious”
-but he lived life sanctified-
His car was observed slowing down
And weaving between lanes
He might even have been dying then
of Coronary pains.
The trucker behind him could not stop
He rode the brakes in vain.
The truck smashed into Harry’s car
which promptly burst in flames.
The Trucker and a Motorist
dragged Harry from the flames.
I’d dearly love to thank them both
But I don’t know their names.
They Med-evacuated him
A helicopter came.
They brought Him to Nassau County Med-
reporting “John Doe” as his name.
On that torrid summer day,
Without a breath of air,
There would not be an encore
That much, at least, was clear.
Harry’s eyes were glazing over,
It was certain he had passed.
I hope he had a peaceful end
when his Corey came at last.
(A tribute to Harry Foster Chapin: , Singer, Songwriter and Philanthropist. 12/07/42-07/16/81)
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Comfort Of Our Homes
If noses weren't attached,
To the face.
Few people would know,
Where the back of their heads were.
Or knew the full sensation,
Of picking their toes.
One of those favorite pastimes,
Spent in the comfort of our homes...
Alone sniffing the toe jam,
Most of the time!
'THAT is disgusting! '
And...
Your point is what?
Sniffing and tasting it,
Are not to be associated!
Unless...
You have discovered another method,
That upgrades this satisfaction.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Set In The Ways
Set in the ways we recognise,
The ways of men are not condemned;
Do not harry me intentionally or frustratingly,
Harry me never in this world.
Set the standards of health and live beyond,
Beyond this life is another death,
Death shall appear and recognise you.
Harassing me is like giving a death to me,
So please understand the ways of slaughter
Before you harry my body and mind
For your very benefit.
Men are smoothly appearing before us
With women on their shoulders,
Children are hanging not harrying
So please do not condemn their appearance,
It is another death.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Steak n Sabre
I was sitting at a table
Down at the steak n sabre
With cain and abel
The circumstance was a different kind of world
We were laughing and drinking
The universe was shrinking
I was thinking, man, thats a different kind of world
Down at the steak n sabre
Like trobarianders
Dont you understand thats a different kind of world
I was swimming in bali
When I got swallowed
By something hollow
We were going down to a different kind of world
Where they talk like plato
And sweet potatoes growing all around in a different kind of world
Right down in the shallows
And the wind it blows
Dont you know thats a different kind of world
song performed by by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Sang those Songs Without Words
When they brought him to the Hospital
He was listed as John Doe.
He would have liked the irony-
as Harry Chapin fans well know..
His hair was like a lion’s mane
His face both kind and strong
Though doctor’s tried and nurses cried
Harry had sung his last song.
Like Wednesdays’ child with far to go,
He’d been on the road that day.
He was scheduled for a concert
For which he’d take no pay.
He sang songs for the suppers
of the poor and the deprived.
He may not have been “Religious”
-but he lived life sanctified-
His car was observed slowing down
And weaving between lanes
He might even have been dying then
of Coronary pains.
The trucker behind him could not stop
He rode the brakes in vain.
The truck smashed into Harry’s car
which promptly burst in flames.
The Trucker and a Motorist
dragged Harry from the flames.
I’d dearly love to thank them both
But I don’t know their names.
They Med-evacuated him
A helicopter came.
They brought Him to Nassau County Med-
listing “John Doe” as his name.
On that torrid summer day,
Without a breath of air,
There would not be an encore
That much, at least, was clear.
Left incomplete were several songs
whose words he never got to write.
Music that he never shared,
All lost within the dying of the light.
Harry’s eyes were glazing over,
It was certain he had passed.
I hope he had a peaceful end
when his Corey came for him at last.
(A tribute to Harry Foster Chapin: , Singer, Songwriter and Philanthropist. 12/07/42-07/16/81)
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Harry’s Come Marching Home Again (Written In March 2008)
Harry’s come marching home again, Hooray! Hooray!
From Afghanistan, not to roam again, he is back, to stay.
Whilst the flags are out and the bugles blare
I am sure he wishes he still were there.
And we all feel proud Prince Harry has come back home.
Harry’s come flying home again, Hooray! Hooray!
Since media hacks have hunted him down as prey, for pay.
They’ve snitched and let the cat out of the bag
And he’s had to fly home and brave jet lag
And I’m sure he’s sick he’s had to come flying home.
Harry’s come sailing home again, Hooray! Hooray!
It would just have been a security risk to stay, they say.
Now the papers groan and wonder what
They can do with him, now he can’t get shot
But they’ve got their scoop now Harry’s come sailing home.
Harry’s come driving home again, Hooray! Hooray!
Now he can go back on the town again, to play and stray
And the paparazzi will take their snaps
While he’s on the booze with a few of the chaps
And they’ll take their cut now Harry’s come driving home.
Harry’s come marching home again, Hooray! Hooray!
From Afghanistan, not to roam again. Is he back to stay
Till the next time he is sent off to fight,
If they hush it up? Will it all be right?
Do we all feel proud Prince Harry has come back home?
poem by C. Richard Miles
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You've Attached Yourself to Me
You've attached yourself to me.
For purposes you choose to keep...
Discreet and secret.
And unconfessed.
As if to suggest...
Your intentions are nothing more,
Than to deceive with an intent...
I will come to disbelieve,
This is not the intention meant.
You asked how I would feel,
If from you I became detached?
You've attached yourself to me.
My peace of mind from me will not leave.
Since you had nothing to do with that!
Remember...
You've attached yourself to 'me'?
And I'm too honest with myself,
Not to recognize...
Manipulations that arrive,
With lies expressed in clouded eyes.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Robin And Harry
Robin to beggars with a curse,
Throws the last shilling in his purse;
And when the coachman comes for pay,
The rogue must call another day.
Grave Harry, when the poor are pressing
Gives them a penny and God's blessing;
But always careful of the main,
With twopence left, walks home in rain.
Robin from noon to night will prate,
Run out in tongue, as in estate;
And, ere a twelvemonth and a day,
Will not have one new thing to say.
Much talking is not Harry's vice;
He need not tell a story twice:
And, if he always be so thrifty,
His fund may last to five-and-fifty.
It so fell out that cautious Harry,
As soldiers use, for love must marry,
And, with his dame, the ocean cross'd;
(All for Love, or the World well Lost!)
Repairs a cabin gone to ruin,
Just big enough to shelter two in;
And in his house, if anybody come,
Will make them welcome to his modicum
Where Goody Julia milks the cows,
And boils potatoes for her spouse;
Or darns his hose, or mends his breeches,
While Harry's fencing up his ditches.
Robin, who ne'er his mind could fix,
To live without a coach-and-six,
To patch his broken fortunes, found
A mistress worth five thousand pound;
Swears he could get her in an hour,
If gaffer Harry would endow her;
And sell, to pacify his wrath,
A birth-right for a mess of broth.
Young Harry, as all Europe knows,
Was long the quintessence of beaux;
But, when espoused, he ran the fate
That must attend the married state;
From gold brocade and shining armour,
Was metamorphosed to a farmer;
His grazier's coat with dirt besmear'd;
Nor twice a-week will shave his beard.
Old Robin, all his youth a sloven,
At fifty-two, when he grew loving,
Clad in a coat of paduasoy,
A flaxen wig, and waistcoat gay,
Powder'd from shoulder down to flank,
In courtly style addresses Frank;
Twice ten years older than his wife,
Is doom'd to be a beau for life;
Supplying those defects by dress,
Which I must leave the world to guess.
poem by Jonathan Swift
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Light Of Some Kind
i wish i didn't have this nervous laugh
i wish i didn't say half the stuff i say
i wish i could just learn to cover my tracks
i guess i'm not concerned about getting away
'cause every time i try to hold my tongue
it slips like a fish from a line
they say if you want to play
you should learn how to play dumb
i guess i can't bring myself to waste your time
'cause we both know what i've been doing
i've been intentionally bad at lying
you're the only boy i ever let see through me
and i hope you beleive me when i say i'm trying
and i hope i never improve my game
yeah i'd rather have these things weighing on my mind
and at the end of this tunnel of guilt and shame
there must be a light of some kind
there must be a light of some kind
i must have blown a fuse or something
cause it was so dark in my mind
she came up to me with the sweetest face
and she was holding a light of some kind
and i still think of you as my boyfriend
i don't think this is the end of the world
but i think maybe you should follow my example
and go meet yourself a really nice girl
'cause we both know. . .
in the end the world comes down to just a few people
but for you it comes down to one
but no one ever asked me if i thought i could be
everything to someone
there's a crowd of people harboured in every person
there are so many roles that we play
and you've decided to love me for eternity
i'm still deciding who i want to be today
'cause we both know. . .
song performed by by Ani DiFranco from Not A Pretty Girl
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brickie
Sometimes his false teeth fell out as he ate
his sandwiches in the tea-break; but he had
the laughing eyes of a barrow boy and the
stride of Goliath. He liked a pint after work
and hated it when children didn`t get enough to eat.
No fan of book learning he was clever in his own way
- he could put up a wall quicker than a fat aunt
could crush a lost biscuit by sitting on it - and
we all liked him, even the boys from Letterkenny who
never said much.
We were gods of sand and gravel.
We could build anything.
And when we drove home through Islington
we all sang, Krishna like:
Harry Brickie, Harry Brickie, Brickie Brickie, Harry Harry.
Here`s to you mate.
Please forgive me for writing a poem about you.
poem by Leslie Philibert
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Shaft was a pop culture figure along t he lines of, I guess, Dirty Harry - except that he wasn't as much of a racist. So yeah, I was always a fan.
quote by Jeffrey Wright
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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