Why?
Hist! Zop!
The world is all awry.
Think that you can mend it?
Take a turn and try.
Virtue gets a fall or two,
Vice careers on high.
I had rather sing myself,
Sick of asking why.
poem by Gamaliel Bradford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Turn Around
Want to cross
But I dont think I can
Its too weak here
Even where I stand
Come here darling
Let me see you hold my hand
So we can mend your broken halo
All I want from you
Well all I want from you
Is for you to turn around
Turn around
Wanted to damage
So I damaged it some
We used to have it all
Now I just got some
The silence, perfections, mysteries
All easy to fall from your lips
All the while lies were told to me
In shapeless secrets
When all I want from you
All I want from you
Is for you to turn around
Turn around
Turn around
Turn around
Cant you turn around
Cant you turn around
Cant you turn around
Why cant you turn around?
Turn around
Turn around
Turn around
song performed by by Whiskeytown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Turn Around
Want to cross
But I dont think I can
Its too weak here
Even where I stand
Come here darling
Let me see you hold my hand
So we can mend your broken halo
All I want from you
Well all I want from you
Is for you to turn around
Turn around
Wanted to damage
So I damaged it some
We used to have it all
Now I just got some
The silence, perfections, mysteries
All easy to fall from your lips
All the while lies were told to me
In shapeless secrets
When all I want from you
All I want from you
Is for you to turn around
Turn around
Turn around
Turn around
Cant you turn around
Cant you turn around
Cant you turn around
Why cant you turn around?
Turn around
Turn around
Turn around
song performed by by Whiskeytown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is easier to run from virtue to vice, than from vice to virtue.
Sing To Me
Sing to me! Something of sunlight and bloom,
I am so compassed with sorrow and gloom,
I am so sick with the world’s noisse and strife, -
Sing of the beauty and brightness of life –
Sing to me, sing to me!
Sing to me! Something that’s jubilant, glad!
I am so weary, my soul so sad.
All my earth riches are covered with rust,
All my bright dreams are but ashes and dust.
Sing to me, sing to me!
Sing og the blossoms that open in spring,
How the sweet flowers blow, and the long lichens cling,
Say, though the winter is round about me,
There are bright summers and springs yet to be.
Sing to me, sing to me!
Sing me a song full of hope and of truth,
Brimming with all the sweet fancies of youth!
Say, though my sorrow I may not forget,
I have not quite done with happiness yet.
Sing to me, sing to me!
Lay your soft fingers just here, on my cheek;
Turn the light lower – there- no, do not speak,
But sing! My heart thrills at your beautiful voice;
Sing till I turn from my grief and rejoice.
Sing to me, sing to me!
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Virtue practiced to be seen is not real virtue; vice which fears to be seen is real vice.
Passtime with good company
1 Pastime with good company
2 I love and shall unto I die.
3 Grudge whoso will, but none deny,
4 So God be pleased, this live will I.
5 For my pastance
6 Hunt, sing, and dance.
7 My heart is set
8 All godely sport
9 To my comfort.
10 Who shall me let?
11 Youth will have needs daliance,
12 Of good or ill some pastance.
13 Company me thinketh then best
14 All thoftes and fantasies to digest.
15 For idleness
16 Is chief mistress
17 Of vices all.
18 Than who can say
19 But "pass the day"
20 Is best of all?
21 Company with honesty
22 Is virtue, and vice to flee.
23 Company is good or ill
24 But every man hath his free will.
25 The best ensue,
26 The worst eschew,
27 My mind shall be.
28 Virtue to use,
29 Vice to refuse,
30 I shall use me.
poem by Henry VIII King of England
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sentences V
- from a sick soul, a sick body
- where virtute appears, vice watches also
- a stupid man always think to be clever
- suffering strengthens character and virtue
- wisdom raise souls, guile descend them
- each fox has its loop
- twit, but don't convict
- value can make money, but money can't bring value
- if the birth is a chance, death is a debt
- eternity is not subject to human laws
- freedom badly used, turn against us
- the power against the truth is rather an evidence of weakness
- when a child asked me why rivers flow, I didn't know what to answer
- some people live to build, others to break
- man can't do bad things and to have part of the good ones
(translated from romanian)
poem by Ion Untaru
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Virtue And Vice
think of me
i'll think of you
we better think
this whole thing through
sometimes i'm so clumsy
you talk to me
i'll talk to you
you cut the fat
and we'll both chew
you know we're both hungry
i feel so alive today
that's all that i wanted to say
i hope that it stays this way
if not i will be okay
say another prayer
save another life
kiss me on my head
and tell me
everything's alright
'cause i can say it one
or i can shout it twice
all there really is
is virtue and vice
virtue and vice
cry to me
i'll cry to you
sometimes the pain will only do
you know i'm not kidding
you laugh with me
i'll laugh with you
at all the stupid things we do
tomorrow we'll be happy
song performed by by Black Crowes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Virtue & Vice
Think of me
I'll think of you
We better think
This whole thing through
Sometimes i'm so clumsy
You talk to me
I'll talk to you
You cut the fat
And we'll both chew
You know we're both hungry
I feel so alive today
That's all that i wanted to say
I hope that it stays this way
If not i will be okay
Say another prayer
Save another life
Kiss me on my head
And tell me
Everything's alright
'cause i can say it one
Or i can shout it twice
All there really is
Is virtue and vice
Virtue and vice
Cry to me
I'll cry to you
Sometimes the pain will only do
You know i'm not kidding
You laugh with me
I'll laugh with you
At all the stupid things we do
Tomorrow we'll be happy
song performed by by Black Crowes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Virtue Vice
Think of me
Ill think of you
We better think
This whole thing through
Sometimes Im so clumsy
You talk to me
Ill talk to you
You cut the fat
And well both chew
You know were both hungry
I feel so alive today
Thats all that I wanted to say
I hope that it stays this way
If not I will be okay
Say another prayer
Save another life
Kiss me on my head
And tell me
Everythings alright
cause I can say it one
Or I can shout it twice
All there really is
Is virtue and vice
Virtue and vice
Cry to me
Ill cry to you
Sometimes the pain will only do
You know Im not kidding
You laugh with me
Ill laugh with you
At all the stupid things we do
Tomorrow well be happy
song performed by by Black Crowes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Right View
In the Jungle of the World
and the Tangle of the Senses
we build us huts of mud and heartache
and make (and mend) our fragile fences.
‘This is me! That is mine! ’
is the burden of our song.
We cannot see, still less define
that pain and sorrow prove us wrong.
This is not mine, this is not me,
is the beginning of our sanity.
Letting go of what does not concern us
leaves that alone which, meddled with, will burn us.
The Law is mirror-like in its precision
and its simplicity needs no revision;
that Good breeds Good
and Evil has its price;
that Virtue is its own reward.
And so is Vice.
That all things pass away,
from butterflies to stars,
and though the World’s a prison
it’s the Mind that makes the bars.
poem by Brian Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Day's Plans Go Awry
It's wet out there, the rain rolls in,
The day's plans go awry,
It's wet out there, the rain rolls in,
The tears that God must cry.
'Hey Mom, what's rain, what makes it fall? '
Asked Zachary, sincere.
'When will it stop, will it at all?
I can't be stuck in here.'
It's wet out there, the rain rolls in,
The day's plans go awry,
It's wet out there, the rain rolls in,
As God begins to cry.
'It's God's tears, my son, he must weep,
For all of us on earth.
The pain we feel, we cannot keep,
Ourselves alone from birth.'
It's wet out there, the rain rolls in,
The day's plans go awry,
It's wet out there, the rain rolls in,
For our pain God must cry.
'But Mom, God's cried, every day,
He must be getting weak.
Tell him to laugh, that's what I'd say,
And try that for a week.'
It's wet out there, the rain rolls in,
The day's plans go awry,
It's wet out there, the rain rolls in,
Why do we make him cry?
'But ah, my son, you do not know,
How much hurt God has felt.
So our Father, he has to show,
Us what our pain has dealt.'
It's wet out there, the rain rolls in,
The day's plans go awry.
It's wet out there, the rain rolls in,
God doesn't want to cry.
'So Mom, then why, do we hurt God?
How can we be so bad?
Why do we hurt each other too?
We know it makes him sad.'
It's wet out there, the rain rolls in,
The day's plans go awry,
It's wet out there, the rain rolls in,
The tears that God must cry.
poem by Steven Rodgers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the midst of vice we are in virtue, and vice versa.
quote by Samuel Butler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I sing a new song
I sing a new song,
I hate to be wrong
I often do fall
but I rise and
sometimes crawl
I sing a new song
I climb a high wall
even when I fall
I sing a new song
about rising after
each and every fall
I sing a new song
poem by Warrior Writes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Weary
Aw, I'm sick o' the whole darn human race,
An' I'm sick o' this mundane ball;
I'm sick o' the sight o' me brother's face,
An' his works an' talk an' all;
I'm sick o' the silly sounds I hear,
I'm sick o' the sights I see;
Ole Omar K. he knew good cheer,
An' it's much the same with me.
Gimme a bit o' a bough to sit
Beneath, an' a book of rhyme,
An' a cuddlemsome girl that sings a bit,
But don't sing all the time:
That's all I ask, an' it's only just;
For it's all that I hold dear
A bough an' a book an' a girl an' a crust;
That, an' a jug o' beer.
Then I'll cuddle me girl an' I'll quaff me ale
As we sit on the leafy floor;
An' when the book an' the beer jug fail,
I'll cuddle me girl some more.
For jugs give out an' books get slow.
But you can take my tip for square
Tho' the bough an' the book an' the beer jug go,
The girl, she's always there.
For I'm sick o' the sight o' me brother's face,
An' the world's a sight too slow;
An' I'm sick o' tryin' to go the pace,
When there ain't no pace to go;
I'm sick o' the 'gilded halls of vice,'
An' I'm sick o' the 'sainted shrine,'
I'm sick o' me own an' me friends' advice,
An' the gold that won't be mine.
I'm sick o' the sound o' me fellow's voice,
I'm sick o' his schemes an' shams;
O' trying to choose when there ain't no choice,
An' of damin' several dams;
So, gimme a girl that ain't too slow,
You can keep your book of rhyme,
An' you bough an' bread an' your beer. Wot O!
An' I'll cuddle her all the time.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Over-Virtue
Over-virtue is dangerous,
Unlike over-vice, which has
Conscience as its watch dog.
Over-virtue might do more harm.
(04.02.2011)
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Climb
Step by step
I've come closer to reaching the top
Every step must be placed so that I don't fall off
Looking down to see about how much higher I am
Another cool wind comes through and brushes my skin
The harder I push the tension does grow
I gather my thoughts the further and further I go
With some luck I just might keep on climbing
So better to climb than to face a fall
So high the climb
Can't turn back now
Must keep on climbing up to the clouds
So high the climb Can't turn back now
Must keep on climbing up to the clouds
Pulling myself up by a rope
I better my view
The only thing in sight is what I must do
As I turned I could see myself falling
Which in return save me strength for the climb
So high the climb
Can't turn back now
Must keep on climbing up to the clouds
So high the climb
Can't turn back now
Must keep on climbing up to the clouds
Although many failed I must now prevail with no question
Have no time to stop
Onward to the top of the mountain
And I can't turn back now
Its so very high but I can't turn back now
If I keep it up
song performed by by No Doubt from Tragic Kingdom
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sunbed Song
I woke up, baby
To find you gone - long gone
Now I wake up, baby
Turn my sunbed on - turn it on
Oh I really love your mind though I cant forget your body
I really love your mind though I cant forget your body
I really love your mind though I cant forget your body
I think about it all night long
Late september
Summers over
Cant remember
Where the love has gone
See you later alligator
Dont forget - turn your sunbed on
We broke up, baby
Seems the die was cast - too fast
Now I break up, baby
When I re-live the past - free at last
Well it started as a virtue but it soon became a vice
It started as a virtue but it soon became a vice
I never meant to hurt you but Im cold as ice
I heard you crying all night long
Late september
Summers over
Cant remember
Where the love has gone
See you later alligator
Dont forget - turn your sunbed on
All by myself it runs so deep
I cry myself to restless sleep
A dream surreal, a new game to play
These things I feel in such an artificial way
I woke up, baby
Found the summers gone - long gone
Now I wake up, baby
Turn my sunbed on - turn it on
And I wont even try to justify my sunglasses
Wont even try to justify my sunglasses
Wont even try to justify my sunglasses
Youll hear me crying all day long
Late september
Summers over
Cant remember
Where the love has gone
See you later alligator
Dont forget - turn your sunbed on
Yeah
Turn it on
Whenever you can
Turn it on
You know that you can
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Im sick
im sick of not knowing,
im sick of not showing,
im sick of all the starring
im sick of not caring
im sick of being labled bad
im sick of always looking sad
im sick of feeling locked in bars
im sick of all the painful scars
im sick of all the thugs
im sick of all the drugs
im sick of asking myself why
im sick of telling myself i want to die
im sick of feeling like i always want to cry
im sick of living a lie
im sick of not having a dream
im sick of lifes borring theme
but thares only one was out...
so what does that mean?
poem by Malorie Genoff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So Sick
im sick of not knowing,
im sick of not showing,
im sick of all the starring
im sick of not caring
im sick of being labled bad
im sick of always looking sad
im sick of feeling locked in bars
im sick of all the painful scars
im sick of all the thugs
im sick of all the drugs
im sick of asking myself why
im sick of telling myself i want to die
im sick of feeling like i always want to cry
im sick of living a lie
im sick of not having a dream
im sick of lifes borring theme
but thares only one was out...
so what does that mean?
poem by Ricky Baker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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