The Old Lizard
In the parched path
I have seen the good lizard
(one dropp of crocodile)
meditating.
With his green frock-coat
of an abbot of the devil,
his correct bearing
and his stiff collar,
he has the sad air
of an old professor.
Those faded eyes
of a broken artist,
how they watch the afternoon
in dismay!
Is this, my friend,
your twilight constitutional?
Please use your cane,
you are very old, Mr. Lizard,
and the children of the village
may startle you.
What are you seeking in the path,
my near-sighted philosopher,
if the wavering phantasm
of the parched afternoon
has broken the horizon?
Are you seeking the blue alms
of the moribund heaven?
A penny of a star?
Or perhaps
you've been reading a volume
of Lamartine, and you relish
the plateresque trills
of the birds?
(You watch the setting sun,
and your eyes shine,
oh, dragon of the frogs,
with a human radiance.
Ideas, gondolas without oars,
cross the shadowy
waters of your
burnt-out eyes.)
Have you come looking
for that lovely lady lizard,
green as the wheatfields
of May,
as the long locks
of sleeping pools,
who scorned you, and then
left you in your field?
Oh, sweet idyll, broken
among the sweet sedges!
But, live! What the devil!
I like you.
The motto 'I oppose
the serpent' triumphs
in that grand double chin
of a Christian archbishop.
Now the sun has dissolved
in the cup of the mountains,
and the flocks
cloud the roadway.
It is the hour to depart:
leave the dry path
and your meditations.
You will have time
to look at the stars
when the worms are eating you
at their leisure.
Go home to your house
by the village, of the crickets!
Good night, my friend
Mr. Lizard!
Now the field is empty,
the mountains dim,
the roadway deserted.
Only, now and again,
a cuckoo sings in the darkness
of the poplar trees.
poem by Federico García Lorca
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Lizard Love
I was walkin down the street
When someone called my name
She had spiked heels on her feet
And she was feelin no pain
Ohhh must be lizard love
So I hid behind the newspaper
Turned to page six
She was in her birthday suit
Behind a crucifix
Ohhh must be lizard love
She was hangin big booty
She was puss n boots way up to here
Shes a little bit of heaven, a 24-7
A 10 every day of the year
Now there must be some mistake
Im feelin so high strung
She said i make love like a snake
I even got a forked tongue
At first I thought I was dreamin
That Id wake up and shed dissappear
But when I opened up my eyes
She was laughing and a screamin swinging from the chandlier
You know I never seem to give
Or ever get enough
And I just cant seem to live without
That sweet bodacious stuff
Ohhh must be lizard love
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Leticia II
Of the horned owl,
Of the little owl,
Of the fisher owl,
Of the screech owl,
Of the white owl,
Of the desert owl;
But, do not hold back the wages of a hired man overnight!
Of the large lizard,
Of the monitor lizard,
Of the sand lizard;
And like the spreading of mildew in a home!
But, the blood of the tresspass offering is now seen around;
Because, the life of the flesh is in the blood.
Do not eat blood oh my sweet Leticia! !
And learn from the old paths always in this life;
For, the truth is always the truth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The River of Desire
On the banks of the River of Desire
The abodes of our Gods are empty
The Gods deserted our village long ago
Leaving behind all the sanctums
Their broken walls yielded fine bricks
For the masonry of our village homes.
The River meandered around our village
Threatening to swallow our temples
Our children have hunger in their eyes
We have no oil to light God’s lamps
The River now threatens to swallow
Our parched paddy fields and our homes.
poem by Jagannath rao Adukuri
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Lounge Lizard
(ian hunter)
Well I picked her up on a saturday night
Pool hall poison but she felt alright
Oh dear what a sight when I saw her in the light of day
She was a speakeasy sleazer of the highest degree
Oh you should hear the stories she was laying on me
We really got it on as she held my point of view
Oh! shes a lounge lizard
Coming on strong
Who you fooling
Its me youre with
Lounge lizard
Come on come on
You got to be joking
Give give give yeah
Well I dont care if your sisters a john
I dont mind where your momma come for
Just give it to me
Just pull it through me
Alright
[golly? ] is a dolly got makeup on
I dont mind just keep your raincoat on
No hesitation no reputations to scale us
Oh! shes a lounge lizard
Coming on strong
Who you fooling
Its me youre with
Lounge lizard
Come on come on
You got to be joking
Give give give
Hey hey hey hey hey hey
Oh! shes a lounge lizard
Coming on strong
Who you fooling
Its me your with
Lounge lizard
Come on come on
You got to be joking
Just give give give
Oh! shes a lounge lizard
Coming on come on
Who you fooling
Its me your with
Lounge lizard
Come on come on
You got to be joking
Give give give
I said give give give
Give give give
Give give give
Give give give
Give give give
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Off To See The Lizard
Off to see the lizard
By: jimmy buffett, jay oliver
1989
I was raised by a maid who came from martinique
She wore geckos around her neck and bracelets on her feet
A superstitious woman from the land of sugar cane
Shed sing the sun to bed and dance out in the rain
Dance out, dance out, dance out in the rain
Shed excite us with a legend that the africans told
About a red iguanna who turned lava into gold
Wed mount an expedition heading up into the bay
Superstitious children playing pirate for the day
Chorus:
Off to see the lizard
Off to see the lizard
Deja deja deja vu
Believe it and it will come true
Veja veja veja du
What works for me might work for you
Being rich an famous seems to have its ups and downs
But thats the price you pay for being troubadours and clowns
Godzillas halitosis it be vaporizing cars
Elvis up in michigan or maybe out on mars
Dance out, dance out, dance out to the stars
But living in the briar patch aint what it appears
Sooner or later youve got to face your fears
I heard it from the parrot verbalizing in the tree
I heard in the songline of the aborigine
Chorus:
Off to see the lizard
Off to see the lizard
Deja deja deja vu
Believe it and it will come true
Veja veja veja du
What works for me might work for you
Does it work for me? (yeah, yeah)
Will it work for you? (yeah, yeah)
If you believe it will (yeah, yeah)
It will come true (yeah, yeah)
I got problems with my brain underneath my curls
Problems with loraine and all the other girls
Love a wealthy woman and the pretty plane she flys
If you think this sounds confusing you should see it through my eyes
Dancing, dancing, dancing through my eyes
Im turning off the waterfall the tourists can go home
I feel it time to travel take time to write a poem
Time to seek some therapy Im going walkabout
Answers are the easy part, questions raise the doubt
Chorus:
Off to see the lizard
Off to see the lizard
Deja deja deja vu
Believe it and it will come true
Veja veja veja du
What works for me might work for you
Deja deja deja vu
Believe it and it will come true
Veja veja veja du
What works for me will work for you
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Give and take
In your helpless state
He will take
You; you will dine
On his table,
He will buy you a
Dress and what
You need, you
Will live in
His own house
He will take
Care of you
But there is no
Such thing as
A free meal
Nowadays, or a
Man with a
Hundred percent
Kind heart,
There will always
Be that element
Of give and take
And so when the
Night comes
He will, know this,
Undress you
And start eating
A little of you,
And you will give
In some parts,
That element
Of give and take,
This is a dog
Eat dog world,
My dear, so while
You are in such
A helpless state
Try the lizard’s
Way, start growing
Again those lost
Parts, and if you
Will, start growing
All those wings and
Then fly away…
Or if you will,
Start growing some
Scales and big
Crocodile teeth
And a long solid tail,
And you will know
In lizard’s name
What to do with him.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lizard Life
I got the attitude
And that's all I ever say
Don't have to tell nobody
How their tail ought to lay
Had a sudden revelation
The heights that I've sunken down to
And I don't mind I can't find
My way out of this witch's brew
Livin' for the lizard life
Livin' for the lizard life
I stumbled on the way around
My own reality
Gettin' right-tightly wound
Past the pale of normality
I like big loungin' every day
On the iguana side of town
The lizard love
song performed by by ZZ Top from Antenna
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Penetration And Trust
I
Sleek as a lizard at round of a stone,
The look of her heart slipped out and in.
Sweet on her lord her soft eyes shone,
As innocents clear of a shade of sin.
II
He laid a finger under her chin,
His arm for her girdle at waist was thrown:
Now, what will happen and who will win,
With me in the fight and my lady lone?
III
He clasped her, clasping a shape of stone;
Was fire on her eyes till they let him in.
Her breast to a God of the daybeams shone,
And never a corner for serpent sin.
IV
Tranced she stood, with a chattering chin;
Her shrunken form at his feet was thrown:
At home to the death my lord shall win,
When it is no tyrant who leaves me lone!
poem by George Meredith
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A lizard that fell from the top of a tree wastes its time looking back to where it fell from; if there was anything good the lizard deserved, it could not have missed it while it was there on top of the tree.
A Blue-Tinted Lizard
There's a blue-tinted lizard on the redbrick wall,
Where the green ivy grows and the brown leaves fall,
'O it's such a pleasant day, ' say my playful little parents,
'Why don't you go outside where the brown leaves fall.'
But I'm so tired all the time in my redbrick house,
And all I see when I look out is where that blue-tinted lizard used
to slither on the wall,
Where the green ivy grows and the brown leaves fall.
poem by Joshua Dinkin
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At Home, At Home
Sunday afternoon
at home
sitting on a Persian pillow
watching the outside view
the sea over there
the mountains on the other side
sipping green tea
closing the eyes
meditating
on who you are
what you are
and what i can do for you
i have green eyes and the
tree are changing its leaves into mournful yellow.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Desert Wind
I went with happy heart (how happy!) a while since
Behind my camel flocks,
Piping all day where the Nile pastures end
And the white sand begins
Among the rocks.
The wheeling eagles mocked me high there from the skies,
The red blast of the desert wind
Hath seared mine eyes.
I saw a lady pass, (what lady?) none could tell,
Nor of her tribe nor race,
Of Roum or Franjistan or Fars or Hind;
None knew. But I knew well
That her sweet face
Had blossomed first within the gates of Paradise.
The red blast of the desert wind
Hath seared mine eyes.
Within a tasselled frame, rich wrought, she sat and sang
A song of love so sweet,
That beast and bird and serpent came behind,
And lizard with shut fang
And faltering feet.
My flocks strayed after them, and I who heard likewise.
The red blast of the desert wind
Hath seared mine eyes.
Upon a camel tall (how tall!) she rode by me
Enrobed in white and red,
And veiled to her bright eyes in bands that bind
But hide not all souls see;
And on her head
A crown entwined of wool with gold and various dyes.
The red blast of the desert wind
Hath seared mine eyes.
Out to the wilderness, all day, we followed her.
By winding paths untrod,
O'er rock and plain none knew nor I could find,
Although my home was there;
And still we rode.
The creatures tired and stopped; but I went on with sighs.
The red blast of the desert wind
Hath seared mine eyes.
We came to a deep pool (how deep!) I knew of none
In all that land accursed,
A pool of waters clear with white shells lined,
And there we lighted down
And suaged our thirst,
And bathed our weary limbs, we two without disguise.
The red blast of the desert wind
Hath seared mine eyes.
Upon the brink we sat (ah me!) alone, we two,
In that fair empty place.
I kissed her hands and told her all my mind,
And dared her grace to sue,
Her utter grace.
And she with smiles said ``yea'' to my too blest surprise.
The red blast of the desert wind
Hath seared mine eyes.
Ah me, that night of stars, those bridal stars of heaven!
Ah me, those eyes of hers,
So sweet, so near, of that same starry kind,
Which drank their light ungiven,
(Poor blinded stars!)
And left them dark as they have left me wise.
The red blast of the desert wind
Hath seared mine eyes.
How shall I tell it? All three months of happy love
I lived with her, blest queen,
Fed on sole joy and what God's care might send
Of milk and treasure--trove
Of sorrels green,
And roots and tubers fine and samh which we made prize.
The red blast of the desert wind
Hath seared mine eyes.
Since when I search the Earth (sad Earth!) in vain to win
Once more her wondrous voice,
Which led me forth to doom and left me blind,
Bereft of flocks and kin
And homely joys,
Of wife and children's love and to behold the skies.
The red blast of the desert wind
Hath seared mine eyes.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Here, where the vine and fig bask hand in hand
Here, where the vine and fig bask hand in hand,
And the hot lizard lies along the wall,
Blinded I shrink where cypress shadows fall,
And gaze upon the far-off mountains bland:
Then down the dusty track Lorenzo planned
Watch the slow oxen oscillating crawl
Sleek in the sultry glare, and feel withal
Half alien still in a familiar land.
But when from out the stone-pine slopes that rise
In the clear ether, black against the blue,
The cuckoo suddenly calls, I close mine eyes
In visionary rapture, think of you,
Hear the home-music of your Kentish skies,
And dream that I am drenched with English dew.
poem by Alfred Austin
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Size 40
Cain, main, pain, vain, fain, rain;
Your shoe-size is 40 and i am about to tell you a story;
But your love is like a fiery land far away.
Dave, cave, wave, pave, lave, nave, save;
Shoe-size 40 in the land of care,
But you must distinguish between the unclean and the clean.
The monitor lizard,
The small lizard,
The large lizard,
The stock and the ostrich;
But upon the perfect laws i rest my mind,
And like the rain in its season.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Green Green Grass Of Home
The old home town looks the same as I step off the train
Meeting every train in my mind's eye till the man in mail came
Hair like gold, lips like cherry
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home
Green, green grass of home, green green grass of home.
Only dream I know of is to be found hair like gold, lips like a cherry
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home
They'll all come to greet me, on the steps of my sweet dream
It's good I dreamt the green, green grass of home
I wait and look around me at the broken walls that surround me
And out here I was on the ground.
There's a garden in the path of progress unharmed through winter's day break
Then I'll touch the green, green grass of home
They'll all come to greet me from the chains of the old dark hollow
The green, green grass of home
They'll all come to greet me on the steps, my sweet dream
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blind Man's Buff
I remember as a child we used to
Play out in the square,
In the sleepy little village
Someone christened Uno Ware,
There was never any traffic so
Until we'd had enough,
With the cruelty of children
We'd keep playing Blind Man's Buff.
It was cruel, I admit it and
Regret the very day,
The first time we invited young
Immanuel to play,
He was Russian, and had come to live
From halfway round the earth,
He was always labelled ‘It' because
He'd been stone blind from birth.
His father, Andropovski was
An evil looking man,
But he'd fled before the Communists
Had come to rule the land,
He'd been in the Palace Guard, had
Given service to the Csar,
While the Bolsheviks had gathered,
He'd deserted, travelled far.
Immanuel was only nine
A stranger to the street,
He was not allowed to play with us
The urchins in bare feet,
But his father was a woodsman and
Away most every day,
So we gathered round his window,
Asked Immanuel to play.
We'd lead him out and spin him round
And say, ‘You're it! ' and stuff,
And he'd shriek and laugh and stagger
As we played our Blind Man's Buff,
But he very rarely caught us
We were far too quick for him,
‘Til his father, Andropovski,
Kicked our butts and took him in.
After that he stayed inside or
Came to sit out on the porch,
And he'd listen to us playing
We'd indulge in different sports,
Then he took a knife and whittled
Just to pass away the time,
And he made the most amazing things
For someone who was blind.
He'd get a picture in his head
Of what he'd never seen,
Then he'd whittle and he'd whittle
At the substance of his dream,
And they gradually got bigger as
He grew up in the dark,
He would whittle from huge logs
Once he had stripped away the bark.
I remember when he whittled
A whole lizard from the wood,
Well, it looked much like a lizard
I would watch him as he stood,
And he'd ask me lots of questions
About sizes and of shapes,
About elephants and zebras
About seagulls, terns and apes.
I would answer him directly
In exacting measurements,
Tell him how they moved, of hair and fur
Of food, and excrements,
I would draw him mental pictures
Of the things he'd never seen,
As his knife would chip and whittle,
And his face would fairly beam.
Then one day it just turned nasty
When a friend called Henry Goode,
Said he'd seen that wooden lizard
Snaking off into the wood,
So I asked Immanuel, I said:
‘I don't know what he's on,
But Henry saw your lizard move! '
Immanuel said: ‘It's gone! '
He never would expand on this,
He'd shrug and turn away,
But still his knife flashed in the air,
Would chip and strip away,
Then Mrs. Brown came screaming that
She'd been down by the wharf,
Had been accosted by some man,
She said, ‘A wooden dwarf! '
And that was just the start of it
A mist came swirling down,
So thick we couldn't find our way
Both in or out of town,
A flying wooden parrot then
Knocked off the Parson's hat,
And lay there squawking feebly ‘til
The Parson stamped on that.
I found Immanuel on the porch
And said, ‘Hey, what's the game? '
He scowled in my direction, said,
‘Don't like it? What a shame!
You thought it was good fun to tease,
Could never get enough,
When I was just the blind kid, ‘It',
And playing Blind Man's Buff! '
Our village faded from the map
That mist just kept us there,
And people whispered, ‘Where's it gone?
That village, you know where! '
Immanuel said we'd play again
That game we loved the most,
But we'd be ‘It', he'd whittled it,
Turned loose the Holy Ghost!
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Who would be able to think?
I. Who would be able to think?
Who would be able to think
that your eyes as pretty
as stars shining in the heaven?
Who would be able to think
how restless my heart is beating,
that you are more beautiful than I had known before?
Who would be able to think
that your eyes are so pretty?
II. Who would be able to think?
Who would be able to think
that your eyes are prettier
than the sun hidden by banks of fog,
than the stars shining in heaven,
that the tears glittering on your cheeks
comes with a deep meaning?
Who would be able to think
that your eyes are prettier
than the glowing champagne which I am pouring
that the look in them would bring me to a confession
about feelings which hide in my heart like a lizard
while we touch glasses
and who would be able to think this?
III. Who would be able to think?
Who would be able to think
that your eyes are prettier than stars,
that you bring new meaning, to stars hanging in the sky
that your tears glowing against your cheeks
comes with a deep meaning?
Who would be able to think
while we touch glasses
that you are lovelier than I could comprehend before,
that you bring new meaning, to stars hanging in the sky
and when I pour sparkling champagne
the look in your eyes, could bring me to a confession?
Who would be able to think
how restless my heart is beating,
about feelings which hide in my heart like a lizard
that you bring new meaning, to stars hanging in the sky,
how deep I drown in the depths of your eyes
and that for a life long I have missed you?
Who would be able to think
that you bring new meaning, to stars hanging in the sky?
poem by Gert Strydom
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His Will, Not Mine
Friend, when I face a mountain high, I look to The Lord up in the sky,
God changes mountains into hills, as God changes things as He wills.
Friend, even if my path seems long, I know that I am where I belong,
For God has planned my path for me, it’s one that ends up in Eternity.
His will for me in this present life, is to follow the steps of Jesus Christ.
And our Lord’s earthly path my friend, had indeed a very tragic end,
“Not my will” He said that day, as His Father’s will was the only way.
This is God’s will for us indeed, as we must follow The Savior’s lead.
As I am crucified with Christ you see, I don’t live, but He lives in me.
Friend, now my life I live for God, this in each and every day I trod.
When I pass through waters friend, I remember Christ’s tragic end,
When the waters get too deep, it was on that cross He died for me.
And when they become a flood, it was for me that He spilt His Blood.
It’s the power from His sacrifice, that sustains me in the waters of life,
So that in my life men may see, that it’s The Lord Jesus living in me.
For my friend God’s will in my life, is to be for Him a living sacrifice.
Christ gives me the power to fulfill, not mine, but God’s Eternal Will.
So when I face a river or a hill, I know that it’s God’s Sovereign Will.
Soon Christ will come for His own, to take us to our Heavenly Home,
Safe at last with The Lord we’ll be, to be with Christ through Eternity.
(Copyright ©02/2005)
Rosebank
From the village of Rosebank the hills look so green
A beautiful country as fine as i've seen
A gem of the mountains on the higher ground
Is this quiet little village with hills all around.
In the Green Frog cafe i go back in time
A bard of the old school sat crafting his rhyme
His long hair and long beard seemed whiter than gray
And he sat in the cafe and wrote every day.
In the 'Green Frog' each morning for an hour or two
He sipped his coffee looking out on the view
He took in the beauty it came out in words
The green of the woods and the songs of the birds.
He sat in the cafe this maker of song
And sipped on his coffee and he thought hard and long
And he gazed on those mountains and song to him came
And he died old and poor though he lives on in fame.
And though the bard for long years has now lain with the dead
His verses survive and by many still read
And the mountains of Rosebank that gave him his rhyme
Are still green as ever unfaded by time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Think...........
broken bottles, broken glass,
everywhere scattered on the grass.
once it was spiky and green,
wind was blowing,
moving grass in the stream can be clearly seen.
upon the mountain through the trees,
blows a sweet, soft breeze.
think what will happen if trees be tear,
there will be no loin, no tiger no any bear.
no place for birds to make a nest
where could running deer be take a rest.
no place for hiding nuts,
squirrels are homeless,
sparrow finding space in the huts.
see clouds seem as teddy bears,
see rabbits, peacocks roaming without fears.
watch and catch the stars at night,
stars will not be as bright.
with in few or someday,
everything not be in same way.
blue water, floating high waves,
no dolphin, no star fish to be gaze, ,
in human there is wealthy race,
time will come we won't have even a single standing place.
it is time to awareness be raised,
for saving environment plan must be traced..........