Antony: O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
line from The Tragedy of Julius Caesar, Act III, Scene 1, script by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Pardon Me
Pardon me while i burst
Pardon me while i burst
A decade ago, i never thought i would be.
A twenty three on the verge of spontaneous combustion woe is me
But i guess that it comes with the territory.
An ominous landscape of never-ending calamity.
I need you to hear. i need you to see.
That i have had all i can take
And exploding seems like a definite possibility
To me
So pardon me while i burst into flames.
I've had enough of the world, and its people's mindless games
So pardon me while i burn, and rise above the flame
Pardon me, pardon me. i'll never be the same.
Not, two days ago i was having a look in a book
And i saw a picture of a guy fried up above his knees
I said i can relate
Cause lately i've been thinking of combustication as a welcomed vacation from.
The burdens of the planet earth, like gravity, hypocrisy, and the perils of being in 3-d...
And thinking so much differently.
Pardon me while i burst into flames.
I've had enough of the world, and it's people's mindless games
Pardon me while i burn, and rise above the flame
Pardon me, pardon me. i'll never be the same.
Never be the same...yeah.
Pardon me while i burst into flames.
Pardon me, pardon me, pardon me.
So pardon me while i burst into flames.
I've had enough of the world, and it's people's mindless games
So pardon me while i burn, and rise above the flame
Pardon me, pardon me. i'll never be the same.
Pardon me, never be the same. yeah
song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To His Paternal Country
O earth! earth! earth! hear thou my voice, and be
Loving and gentle for to cover me!
Banish'd from thee I live;--ne'er to return,
Unless thou giv'st my small remains an urn.
poem by Robert Herrick
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The Lost Piece Of Silver
HOLY Lord Jesus, Thou wilt search till Thou find
This lost piece of silver,--this treasure enshrined
In casket or bosom, once of such store;
Now lying under the dust of Thy floor.
Gentle Lord Jesus, Thou wilt move through the room--
So empty--so desolate! and light up its gloom:
The lost piece of silver that no man can see,
Merciful Jesus! is beheld clear by Thee.
Defaced and degraded, trampled in the dust,
Its superscription Thou knowest still we trust:
And Thou wilt uplift it and make it re-shine,
For it was silver--pure silver of Thine.
Loving Lord Jesus, Thou wilt come through the dark,
When men are all sleeping and no eye can mark.
Though 'clean forgotten, like a dead man out of mind,'
This lost piece of silver Thou wilt search for--and find.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Et Filii
With a crown of thorns piercing thine brow
Blood sweetly falling down thy face
Thou painted love on thy countenance how?
Gently and humble with God's grace
Man knew nothing but man's sin
Till to earth thee came, poor and meek
To speak wisdom, truth and our hearts win
The kingdom of God in thy soul so seek
We still in our hearts thou make
And pray to God that we may know
The love thou make for our love's sake
To become the love thou did show
on the cross dead
for the words thou said
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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Charmian: By your most gracious pardon,
I sing but after you.
Cleopatra: My salad days,
When I was green in judgment, cold in blood,
To say as I said then.
line from Antony and Cleopatra, Act I, Scene 5, script by William Shakespeare (1606)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Herod's Lament for Mariamne
I
Oh, Mariamne! now for thee
The heart of which thou bled'st is bleeding;
Revenge is lost in agony,
And wild remorse to rage succeeding.
Oh, Mariamne! where art thou?
Thou canst not hear my bitter pleading:
Ah! could'st thou—thou would'st pardon now,
Though heaven were to my prayer unheeding.
II
And is she dead?—and did they dare
Obey my phrensy's jealous raving?
My wrath but doom'd my own despair:
The sword that smote her's o'er me waving.—
But thou art cold, my murdered love!
And this dark heart is vainly craving
For her who soars alone above,
And leaves my soul unworthy saving.
III
She's gone, who shared my diadem;
She sunk, with her my joys entombing;
I swept that flower from Judah's stem
Whose leaves for me alone were blooming,
And mine's the guilt, and mine the hell,
This bosom's desolation dooming;
And I have earn'd those tortures well,
Which unconsumed are still consuming!
poem by Byron from The Hebrew Melodies (1815)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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To Mary in Heaven
I.
I met thee first in May, Mary!
The flower-crowned month of May;
But now thou art away, Mary!
Away from me—away!
Thou wert that all to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
II.
Ah! then thine eyes were mild, Mary!
Thy deep blue eyes were mild;
For thou wert then a child, Mary!
And I another child.
Thou wert that all to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
III.
Thy face was then so meek, Mary!
So saintly mild, so meek,
Thy lily-form seemed weak, Mary!
And mine for thine grew weak
For thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
IV.
You led me through the meads, Mary!
The flower-enameled meads,
By brooks of rustling reeds, Mary!
By brooks of rustling reeds—
Where thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
V.
Wherever you then went, Mary!
No matter where you went—
I followed with content, Mary!
Because you were content.
For thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
VI.
I recollect the morn, Mary!
The beautiful May-Morn,
Beside the Field of Corn, Mary!
The rustling reeds of Corn—
That thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
VII.
Ah! then I took thy hand, Mary!
Thy lily snow-white hand;
And walked along the sand, Mary!
The milk-white road of sand.
For thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
VIII.
I caught thee round the waist, Mary!
The slender Sylph-like waist,
And felt my heart beat fast, Mary!
Because thine own beat fast.
For thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
IX.
Such words fell from thy tongue, Mary!
Such sweet words from thy tongue,
That when you talked you sung, Mary!
You never talked but sung.
Then thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
X.
Thus through the month of May, Mary!
The flower-crowned month of May,
We, courting, went to play, Mary!
And courted in our play.
The years were then to me, Mary!
As hours are now to me;
As time is now to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
XI.
For Love knows nought of years, Mary!
Love nothing knows of years;
And sheds no bitter tears, Mary!
Time measured is by tears.
Thus thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
XII.
What thou art now above, Mary!
I was, as if above;
For Heaven is made of love, Mary!
And I was full of love.
For thou wert that to me, Mary!
That all on earth to me,
That I will be to thee, Mary!
In Heaven above to thee.
XIII.
But now these days are gone, Mary!
These halcyon days are gone!
And I am left alone, Mary!
Alone on earth-- alone!
What would I give to see, Mary!
Thy precious form to see?
All thou wouldst give to be, Mary!
In this dark world with me.
poem by Thomas Holley Chivers from Eonchs of Ruby (1851)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Few Easy Pieces
Piece of this
piece of that
Peace and bliss,
Piece of crap
Peace of mind,
Piece of cake,
piece of work
Piece of steak,
Piece of eight
Piece of the action
Piece of the pie
Peace and satisfaction
Piece in the valley
Piece of glass
piece of my mind
Piece of a….
That’s quite enough now! ! !
Let’s quit this dance
Let’s stop while we’re ahead…
Let’s Give peace a chance
poem by David Whalen
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Ch 02 The Morals Of Dervishes Story 03
I saw A’bd-u-Qader Gaillani in the sanctuary of the Ka’bah with his face on the pebbles and saying: ‘O lord, pardon my sins and, if I deserve punishment, cause me to arise blind on the day of resurrection that I may not be ashamed in the sight of the righteous.’
With my face on the earth of helplessness
I say Every morning as soon as I become conscious:
O thou whom I shall never forget
Wilt thou at all remember thy slave?
Tiber, Nile, And Thames
THE head and hands of murdered Cicero,
Above his seat high in the Forum hung,
Drew jeers and burning tears. When on the rung
Of a swift-mounted ladder, all aglow,
Fluvia, Mark Antony's shameless wife, with show
Of foot firm-poised and gleaming arm upflung,
Bade her sharp needle pierce that god-like tongue
Whose speech fed Rome even as the Tiber's flow.
And thou, Cleopatra's Needle, that hadst thrid
Great skirts of Time ere she and Antony hid
Dead hope!—hast thou too reached, surviving death,
A city of sweet speech scorned,—on whose chill stone
Keats withered, Coleridge pined, and Chatterton,
Breadless, with poison froze the God-fired breath?
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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Antony: There’s beggary in the love that can be reckon’d.
Cleopatra: I’ll set a bourn how far to be beloved.
line from Antony and Cleopatra, Act I, Scene 1, script by William Shakespeare (1606)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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When Rising from The Bed of Death
When rising from the bed of death,
O’erwhelmed with guilt and fear,
I see my Maker face to face,
O how shall I appear?
If yet, while pardon may be found,
And mercy may be sought,
My heart with inward horror shrinks,
And trembles at the thought;
When Thou, O Lord, shalt stand disclosed
In majesty severe,
And sit in judgment on my soul,
O how shall I appear?
But Thou hast told the troubled mind
Who does her sins lament,
The timely tribute of her tears
Shall endless woe prevent.
Then see the sorrow of my heart,
Ere yet it be too late;
And hear my Savior’s dying groans,
To give those sorrows weight.
For never shall my soul despair
Her pardon to procure,
Who knows Thine only Son has died
To make her pardon sure.
poem by Joseph Addison
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I Hath Two Lives; The Life Thou See and The Life Of Me
I hath two lives; the life thou see and the life of me
Wert my beauty reigns like a gentle fall night
Hidden beneath mine soul, lost but free
From the judgment of man and perceptions sight
There mine love marvels at its own strength
As thou see me meek and deathly silent
My love immeasurable surpasses earthly length
As thou see me give up, but in secret resilient
Mine deep secret is mine nature; the beauty she hide
Sensed by the intuition of art's vivacious mind
To my poems, my poetic soul, mine love confide
My sympathy, my empathy, my disposition kind
But to the world, thou deserve my anger, mine hate
For thou sin, has sinned, and cast me to thy fate
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If Sometimes In The Haunts Of Men
If sometimes in the haunts of men
Thine image from my breast may fade,
The lonely hour presents again
The semblance of thy gentle shade:
And now that sad and silent hour
Thus much of thee can still restore,
And sorrow unobserved may pour
The plaint she dare not speak before.
Oh, pardon that in crowds awhile
I waste one thought I owe to thee,
And self?condemn'd, appear to smile,
Unfaithful to thy memory:
Nor deem that memory less dear,
That then I seem not to repine;
I would not fools should overhear
One sigh that should be wholly thine.
If not the goblet pass unquaff'd,
It is not drain'd to banish care;
The cup must hold a deadlier draught,
That brings a Lethe for despair.
And could Oblivion set my soul
From all her troubled visions free,
I'd dash to earth the sweetest bowl
That drown'd a single thought of thee.
For wert thou vanish'd from my mind,
Where could my vacant bosom turn?
And who would then remain behind
To honour thine abandon'd Um?
No, no - it is my sorrow's pride
That last dear duty to fulfil:
Though all the world forget beside,
'Tis meet that I remember still.
For well I know, that such had been
Thy gentle care for him, who now
Unmourn'd shall quit this mortal scene,
Where none regarded him, but thou:
And, oh! I feel in that was given
A blessing never meant for me;
Thou wert too like a dream of Heaven
For earthly Love to merit thee.
A Piece Of You
Im just trying to live this life of mine
The more I look, the more Im blind
And all I ask for is piece of mind
And all I want is a piece of you
Well I lost my way today
Back home from work
The snow fell like dust
I felt like dirt
Happens everytime I start to search
For that long lost piece of you
A piece of you
A piece of you
A piece of you
It seems the last time I was sure
Of anything
I sold my heart
I wore your ring
But now, the queen has lost her king
All I want is a piece of you
A piece of you
A piece of you
A piece of you
song performed by by Veruca Salt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ch 02 The Morals Of Dervishes Story 02
I saw a dervish who placed his head upon the threshold of the Ka’bah, groaned, and said: ‘O forgiving, 0 merciful one, thou knowest what an unrighteous, ignorant man can offer to thee.’
I have craved pardon for the deficiency of my service
Because I can implore no reward for my obedience.
Sinners repent of their transgressions.
Arifs ask forgiveness for their imperfect worship.
Devotees desire a reward for their obedience and merchants the price of their wares but I, who am a worshipper, have brought hope and not obedience. I have come to beg and not to trade. Deal with me as thou deemest fit.
Whether thou killest me or forgivest my crime,
my face and head are on thy threshold.
A slave has nothing to command; whatever thou commandest I obey.
I saw a mendicant at the door of the Ka’bah Who said this and wept abundantly:
‘I ask not for the acceptance of my service
But for drawing the pen of pardon over my sins.’
A Few Short Years From Now
Say, art thou angry? words unkind
Have fallen upon thine ear,
Thy spirit hath been wounded too
By mocking jest or sneer,
But mind it not—relax at once
Thine o’ercast and troubled brow—
What will be taunt or jest to thee
In a few short years from now?
Or, perhaps thou mayst be pining
Beneath some bitter grief,
From whose pangs in vain thou seekest
Or respite or relief;
Fret not ’neath Heav’n’s chastening rod
But submissive to it bow;
Thy griefs will all be hushed to rest
In a few short years from now.
Art toiling for some worldly aim,
Or for some golden prize,
Devoting to that glitt’ring goal
Thy thoughts, thy smiles, thy sighs?
Ah! rest thee from the idle chase,
With no bliss can it endow;
Of fame or gold, what will be thine
In a few short years from now?
It may be pleasure’s roseate dreams
Possess thy wayward heart,
Its gilded gauds for better things
Leaving alas! no part;
Ah! cast away the gems and flowers
That bind thy thoughtless brow,
Where will their gleam or brightness be
In a few short years from now?
The good thou may’st on earth have done,
Love to a brother shown—
Pardon to foe—alms unto need—
Kind word or gentle tone;
The treasures thus laid up in Heav’n
By the good on earth done now,
These will alone remain to thee,
In a few short years from now.
poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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4 The Tears In Your Eyes (live) (feat. Wendy & Lisa)
4 the Tears in Your Eyes [Controversy Music, ASCAP - 1985]
------------------------ [From "We Are the World"]
Long ago, there was a man
Could change stone to bread
With one touch of his hand
Made the blind see
And the dumb understand
And he died 4 the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
Many people came from all around
To hear this man preach
The glorious sound
He spoke of man in harmony, and love abound
And he died 4 the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
Died 4 the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
4 the tears in your eyes, and the tears of sorrow
For 6 may be all that there were
For the rising sun each day assures us
The meek shall inherit the earth (the earth)
Faith is word, we all should try
In describing a man
Who willingly died
Believe that your sorrow, hunger, and fears
Is less than the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
(your eyes) (your eyes)
Less than the tears in your eyes (your eyes)
4 the tears in your eyes, and the tears of sorrow
For 6 may be all that there were
For the rising sun each day assures us
The meek shall inherit the earth (the earth)
4 the tears in your eyes, and the tears of sorrow
For 6 may be all that there were
For the rising sun each day assures us
The meek shall inherit the earth (the earth
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Lovers Box
My lovers charms
Are in a box
Beneath my bed
And piece by piece
Ill cherish them
Until the end
Send me an angel to love
I need to feel a little piece of heaven
Send me an angel to love
Im afraid Ill never get to heaven
They burn my hands
Scar my face
And blind my eyes
Ill steal your breath
And throw away
What I despise
Send me an angel to love
I need to feel a little piece of heaven
Send me an angel to love
Im afraid Ill never get to heaven
Between these walls
And darkened halls
Ive done my time
If I should die
Before I wake
Then youll know why
Send me an angel to love
I need to feel a little piece of heaven
Send me an angel to love
Im afraid Ill never get to heaven, piece by piece
Send me an angel to love, piece by piece
I need to feel a little piece of heaven, piece by piece
Send me an angel to love, piece by piece
Im afraid Ill never get to heaven, piece by piece
Piece by piece
Piece by piece, send me an angel
Piece by piece, send me an angel
Piece by piece, send me an angel
Piece by piece, send me an angel
Piece by piece, send me an angel
Piece by piece, send me an angel
Piece by piece, send me an angel
Piece by piece, send me an angel
song performed by by Garbage
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Future Life
How shall I know thee in the sphere which keeps
The disembodied spirits of the dead,
When all of thee that time could wither sleeps
And perishes among the dust we tread?
For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain
If there I meet thy gentle presence not;
Nor hear the voice I love, nor read again
In thy serenest eyes the tender thought.
Will not thy own meek heart demand me there?
That heart whose fondest throbs to me were given?
My name on earth was ever in thy prayer,
Shall it be banished from thy tongue in heaven?
In meadows fanned by heaven's life-breathing wind,
In the resplendence of that glorious sphere,
And larger movements of the unfettered mind,
Wilt thou forget the love that joined us here?
The love that lived through all the stormy past,
And meekly with my harsher nature bore,
And deeper grew, and tenderer to the last,
Shall it expire with life, and be no more?
A happier lot than mine, and larger light,
Await thee there; for thou hast bowed thy will
In cheerful homage to the rule of right,
And lovest all, and renderest good for ill.
For me, the sordid cares in which I dwell,
Shrink and consume my heart, as heat the scroll;
And wrath has left its scar--that fire of hell
Has left its frightful scar upon my soul.
Yet though thou wear'st the glory of the sky,
Wilt thou not keep the same beloved name,
The same fair thoughtful brow, and gentle eye,
Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate, yet the same?
Shalt thou not teach me, in that calmer home,
The wisdom that I learned so ill in this--
The wisdom which is love--till I become
Thy fit companion in that land of bliss?
poem by William Cullen Bryant
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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