Thieves' Kitchen
GOOD roaring pistol-boys, brave lads of gold,
Good roistering easy maids, blown cock-a-hoop
On floods of tavern-steam, I greet you! Drunk
With wild Canary, drowned in wines of old,
I'll swear your round, red faces dive and swim
Like clouds of fire-fish in a waxen tide,
And these are seas of smoke we thieves behold.
Yet I've a mind I know what arms enchain
With flesh my shoulders . . . aye, and what warm legs
Wind quickly into mine . . . 'tis no pale mermaid,
No water-wench that floats in a smoky main
Betwixt the tankard and my knees . . . in faith,
I know thee, Joan, and by the beard of God,
I'll prove to-night thy mortal parts again!
Leap, leap, fair vagabonds, your lives are short . . .
Dance firelit in your cauldron-fumes, O thieves,
Ram full your bellies with spiced food, gulp deep
Those goblets of thick ale—yea, feast and sport,
Ye Cyprian maids—lie with great, drunken rogues,
Jump by the fire—soon, soon your flesh must crawl
And Tyburn flap with birds, long-necked and swart!
poem by Kenneth Slessor
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Related quotes
Oh, For a Bowl of Fat Canary
Oh, for a bowl of fat Canary,
Rich Palermo, sparkling Sherry,
Some nectar else, from Juno's dairy;
Oh, these draughts would make us merry!
Oh, for a wench (I deal in faces,
And in other daintier things);
Tickled am I with her embraces,
Fine dancing in such fairy rings.
Oh, for a plump fat leg of mutton,
Veal, lamb, capon, pig, and coney;
None is happy but a glutton,
None an ass but who want money.
Wines indeed and girls are good,
But brave victuals feast the blood;
For wenches, wine, and lusty cheer,
Jove would leap down to surfeit here.
The Role Of The Flesh When The Mind Breaks Away...
one does not have to condemn the flesh
it too serves some purpose,
when the mind goes beyond our fences
when we cannot take the pressure anymore
there the flesh waits for temporary reliefs
it gives you warmth
the pleasures at hand
when the intellect abandons you
in the middle of your
miseries.
the flesh beats us to a dance of life
like wine it can make us drunk and we become wild
there is that fire in the heart
that the flesh can easily so provide
there is the laughter and the ecstasy
that the flesh only knows
when the storm is over, when the night breaks into dusk
when light comes again in our eyes
the flesh is there beside us
it is there, when the mind breaks
it is patient to all our desires.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Vine
I dreamed this mortal part of mine
Was metamorphosed to a vine,
Which, crawling one and every way,
Enthralled my dainty Lucia.
Methought, her long small legs and thighs
I with my tendrils did surprise:
Her belley, buttocks, and her waist
By my soft nervelets were embraced
About her head I writhing hung
And with rich clusters (hid Amoung
The leaves) her temples i behung,
So that my Lucia seemed to me
Young Bacchus ravished by his tree.
My curls about her neck did crawl,
ANd arms and hands they did enthrall,
So that she could not freely stir
( All parts there made one prisoner).
But when I crept with leaves to hide
Those parts which maids keep unespied,
Such fleeting pleasures there I took
That with the fancy i awoke,
And found (ah me!) this flesh of mine
More like a stock than like a vine.
poem by Robert Herrick
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The Seeker
GOOD People, by your fires to-night
Sit close and praise the red, red wood!
The wind is cold, the moon is white;
With me who wander 'tis not well; it is not well, but God is good.
'Fore birth I was foredoomed to roam,
To keep my soul and self apart,
An alien without hearth and home —
With me who wander 'tis not well; there is no warmth of fire or heart.
I mate with all the wandering winds
That roam across the wintry earth;
What time behind your close-drawn blinds
Your firelit faces smile and smile, I would that I might share their
mirth.
But if I entered I should sit
A wordless dreamer at your fire;
With heart unwarmed and eyes unlit,
I should be like a spectre there, shut off from you and your desire.
And yet, I would that I might warm
My heart and hands at your fire-glow;
But headlong seas and shouting storm
They thrill my blood, they fill my eyes, they call me forth, and I must
go.
Good People, maids and dames and sires,
Ye have your little woe and mirth;
Ye dream no dream; but there are spires
That point to stars, and still point on in spite of this dark, drawing
earth.
It is not well with me to-night,
And I by that strange shore would be
Where, 'twist day's last grey gleam and night,
A Wonder wanes that I alone of all the world must seek and see.
What cliffs they be, what sea rolls there,
I do not know; but, spirit-chained,
Lost visions fill me with despair,
And all the washed grey foreland speaks of some strange Wonder that
has waned.
Good People, bread and wine are good,
And all your visions goodly be.
But some may crave for other food,
And some are seekers from their birth, and dream of lights they shall
not see.
And there is he who fain would find
A Wonder by an alien shore:
Athwart the seas he speeds his mind,
But on the instant fades a light, and lo, the Wonder is no more.
poem by Roderic Quinn
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Bones of a Bad girl
Flesh to flesh
Thoughts to thoughts
Bad girl, bad thoughts
Bad girl wants to touch flesh
But bad man slaps hand away
Bad deeds, good thoughts
No flesh for bad girl
Girls do not touch, thoughts unwelcome
Boys touch flesh, no bad boys
Friends who hold hands, bad girls
Boys who touch girl, good thoughts, warm flesh
Girls crave flesh, bad bad girl
Flesh turns cold, bad thoughts
No way out, big trouble
Flesh is melted, distorted, explored
Thoughts revere, devilish girl
Boys do deeds, good thoughts
Girl slapped on the wrist, more bad
Boys given treats, deeds undone
Girls have bad thoughts, naught arms purple
Flesh dark circles, sketches, screams
Bad wirls with thoughts and deeds, girl want flesh
No flesh is for free, girls still scream
poem by Kelsey Wallace
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Fishees Underwater
Fish have many pretty colors, they live beneath the waves
Some fish seem to swim in schools while others live in caves
Some are short and some are small and some are stringy thin
Some of them are wide and tall and some just dig right in.
There's not much light beneath the waves of all our great big seas,
But all the fish don't seem to mind, they somehow still can see
Plants live down there, under water and make things seem so nice,
That all the fishes dance around and always check things twice.
Some fish swim deep down there, others they just won't
Some of them seem unafraid, but most of them just don't
Some fish have large shiny teeth, some have none at all
Some of them swim hastily, while others only crawl.
Of all the fish and animals my favorite is a star fish
If I find one on the beach, I stop and make a wish
I pick them up and throw them back, far out into the ocean
And hope they learn to not return, or repeat that silly notion.
poem by Daniel Lloyd Kennedy
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Down the River
I’VE done with joys an’ misery,
An’ why should I repine?
There’s no one knows the past but me
An’ that ol’ dog o’ mine.
We camp an’ walk an’ camp an’ walk,
An’ find it fairly good;
He can do anything but talk,
An’ he wouldn’t if he could.
We sits an’ thinks beside the fire,
With all the stars a-shine,
An’ no one knows our thoughts but me
An’ that there dog o’ mine.
We has our Johnny-cake an’ “scrag,”
An’ finds ’em fairly good;
He can do anything but talk,
An’ he wouldn’t if he could.
He gets a ’possum now an’ then,
I cooks it on the fire;
He has his water, me my tea—
What more could we desire?
He gets a rabbit when he likes,
We finds it pretty good;
He can do anything but talk,
An’ he wouldn’t if he could.
I has me smoke, he has his rest,
When sunset’s gettin’ dim;
An’ if I do get drunk at times,
It’s all the same to him.
So long’s he’s got me swag to mind,
He thinks that times is good;
He can do anything but talk,
An’ he wouldn’t if he could.
He gets his tucker from the cook,
For cook is good to him,
An’ when I sobers up a bit,
He goes an’ has a swim.
He likes the rivers where I fish,
An’ all the world is good;
He can do anything but talk,
An’ he wouldn’t if he could.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Bible Bob
Bible Bob in his bib overalls
and his mid-chest beard
his bible and flag
went to preach to the prospectors of gold
he rode on the shoulders of a giant named Jerimiah
who with one arm conquered all arms at Petaluma
and Bible Bob scolded the gold diggers
the lillies who passed through the field
with short skirts and too much make-up
for which they were sure to hell damned
and through the megaphone crisply
his fire and brim stone drew laughter
as the giant let him down to earth
for as he rode on the shoulders of a giant
his union flap remained insecure
and one full buttock of Bob's
was exposed to the crowd he had drawn
and Jerimiah held the megaphone
while Bible Bob buttoned his flap
poem by George Murdock
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Leap Of Faith
Words and music by michelle branch
One less call to answer,
Feeling full of despair,
Dont think I can get through it,
Just one last prayer.
*and its a leap of faith,
When you believe theres someone out there,
Its a leap of faith when you believe that someone cares, oh,
And when I call out to you,
Will you be right there,
Right there.
Searching for the answer,
Nobody seems to care,
Oh how I wish that you were here,
Beside me,
To wipe away my tears.
*and its a leap of faith,
When you believe theres someone out there,
Its a leap of faith when you believe that someone cares, oh,
And when I call out to you,
Will you be right there,
Right there.
Waiting for the answer,
Remembering times we would share,
Somehow I feel you here beside me,
Even though your not there.
*and its a leap of faith,
When you believe theres someone out there,
Its a leap of faith when you believe that someone cares, oh,
And when I call out to you,
Will you be right there-
Bridge:
Right there---
And Ill be waiting by the window for your smile to come through,
And Ill be waiting in the darkness when I call out to you,
And Ill remember when you told me,
I could trust in you-
*and its a leap of faith,
When you believe theres someone out there,
Its a leap of faith when you believe that someone cares, oh,
And when I call out to you,
Will you be right there-
Its a leap of faith,
And I believe that you are out there,
Its a leap of faith and I believe you truly care, oh,
And when I call out to you,
I know youll be right there,
Right there,
And its a leap of faith.
song performed by by Michelle Branch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mishmash! Wish-wash! A LONELY FISH Washes Away in Troubled life Seas!
Among twinkling stars – blue, red, yellow, I am blue with lonely flu!
Among the glossy stars, I am a dark space, a black hole, a black dwarf;
My life sucks for lonely bucks, everything sucks by lonely heat blue,
Squashed inside, packed outside by lonely gravity sucks – it kicks me off!
Mishmash! Wish-wash! A lonely fish washes away in troubled life seas.
Cock-a-hoop! Cock a snook! Oh my god! Lonely fish weeps in sleep!
Night has started, brain is heated – a lonely man repeated word ‘awful’;
I read lonely book full, It can be harmful, and it can be dreadful;
My heart is filled with empty space, my mind killed in the rat race!
Life dies inside me; hope dies outside as no one is beside my face;
Mishmash! Wish-wash! A lonely fish washes away in troubled life seas.
Cock-a-hoop! Cock a snook! Oh my god! Lonely fish weeps in sleep!
Alone I am in blowing wind as I stood in dark ravine of lonely ground!
Alone I am, I heard a baying sound – a tiny translucent gray cloud;
Alone I am, it is the loudest noise in the silence – a howling cry!
Alone I am, it echoes everywhere – I can’t explain any more – I’m dry;
Mishmash! Wish-wash! A lonely fish washes away in troubled life seas.
Cock-a-hoop! Cock a snook! Oh my god! Lonely fish weeps in sleep!
Alone I am wherever I go; alone I am whatever I do, I’m a lonely flower;
Alone I am in depression, alone I am in frustration – oh lonely sparrow!
Alone I am in today, alone I am tomorrow – all the time in sorrow....
Alone I am – lift me up, alone I am – help me out of the lonely river.
Mishmash! Wish-wash! A lonely fish washes away in troubled life seas.
Cock-a-hoop! Cock a snook! Oh my god! Lonely fish weeps in sleep!
poem by Harindhar Reddy
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Take The Leap
Take the leap
Fly with me if you're ready
Allow me to lead
Dance with me, sway with me
Could you let me in?
I want to take the leap
I truly wish to fly
You can lead, I will let you
I will allow you in
I'm just scared
You won't come to harm
I will hold you close
In a tight embrace
We can try to fly
Prove that you trust me
I trust you, I do
It's a fear of the leap
Of the effort, the goals
What if we don't make it?
I don't wish to die
We won't die, I promise
Come into my arms
We will dance and sway
Together
Forever
Just take the leap, mon chérie
Pour je t'aime
I love you
I will care for you
In life and death
Ma cœur
Then let us fly through the night
Two birds of a feather
Our wings trace circles through the sky
We fly as high as we may, or ‘til there is a barrier
For I love you too, my dear
poem by Gwenevere Cornwell
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Fire On The Hills
The deer were bounding like blown leaves
Under the smoke in front the roaring wave of the brush-fire;
I thought of the smaller lives that were caught.
Beauty is not always lovely; the fire was beautiful, the terror
Of the deer was beautiful; and when I returned
Down the back slopes after the fire had gone by, an eagle
Was perched on the jag of a burnt pine,
Insolent and gorged, cloaked in the folded storms of his shoulders
He had come from far off for the good hunting
With fire for his beater to drive the game; the sky was merciless
Blue, and the hills merciless black,
The sombre-feathered great bird sleepily merciless between them.
I thought, painfully, but the whole mind,
The destruction that brings an eagle from heaven is better than mercy.
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Siren Of Fire
Fire:
When the water turns to mist
And the flames are rising high
I'll appear to you my darling
To wipe the tears from your eyes
I'll dance around the fire pit
Running wild with the flames
But as soon as the fire is out
I'll leave you without so much as my name
Water:
When water extinguishes the flame
It will also extinguish me
I will leave you to yourself
To soak in memory
When the land is watered down
And you stand beside the sea
Look for the bonfires
For that is where you'll find me
Burned:
Don't play with fire dearest
You know you will be burned
Leave the flames to me my love
They remind me of how I've yearned
For the sensation of my fire
That keeps our passions hot
I'll stay with you until the tide comes in
But after, I cannot
Drowned:
They douse the flames with water
Putting out the light
I drown with the flames
That ensnared you all night
I cannot stay with you now
My flames have been drowned out
But remember whenever you need me
Fire will bring me about
poem by Tatianna Rei Moonshadow
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Taw Shi
The desert wind
From the East
Binding us together
Oh...oh...oh...oh...
Dance for me Taw Shi
The day has come to prove
To prove your love
Forever
Oh...oh...oh...oh...
Dance for me Taw Shi
Among the two
I prefer you
I want to see you
Set fire to the night
Among the two
You must come through
Oh let me see you
Set fire to the night
Oh...oh...oh...oh...
Dance for me this dance
Oh...oh...oh...oh...
Chant with me this chant
So follow me
Across the sand
To where the music's playing
Oh...oh...oh...oh...
Dance for me Taw Shi
The sands will blow
A thousand years
The rythm still remains
Oh...oh...oh...oh...
Dance for me Taw Shi
Among the two
I prefer you
I want to see you
Set fire to the night
Among the two
You must come through
Oh let me see you
Set fire to the night
Oh...oh...oh...oh...
Dance for me this dance
Oh...oh...oh...oh...
Chant with me this chant
Oh, oh YAH YAH
TAW SHI WA NADAR
Oh, oh YAH YAH
TAW SHI - YA YA YA
TAW SHI - YA YA YA
I want to see you
Set fire to the night
TAW SHI - YA YA YA
TAW SHI - YA YA YA
Oh let me see you
Set fire to the night
TAW SHI - YA YA YA
TAW SHI - YA YA YA
I want to see you
Set fire to the night
Oh, oh YA YA YA!...
song performed by by Ofra Haza
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hanover Winter Song
Ho, a song by the fire;
Pass the pipes, pass the bowl.
Ho, a song by the fire
With a skoal, with a skoal.
Ho, a song by the fire;
Pass the pipes with a skoal,
For the wolf-wind is wailing at the doorways,
And the snow drifts deep along the road,
And the ice gnomes are marching from their Norways,
And the great white cold walks abroad.
But, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here, we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows;
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship.
Oh, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha, we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows.
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship,
Of fellowship
Pile the logs on the fire;
Fill the pipes, pass the bowl.
Pile the logs on the fire
With a skoal, with a skoal.
Pile the logs on the fire;
Fill the pipes with a skoal,
For the fire goblins flicker on the ceiling,
And the wine witch glitters in the glass,
And the smoke wraiths are drifting, curling, reeling,
And the sleigh bells jingle as they pass.
But, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here, we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows;
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship.
Oh, here by the fire, we defy frost and storm;
Ha, ha, we are warm, and we have our heart's desire.
For here we're good fellows, and the beechwood and the bellows.
And the cup is at the lip in the pledge of fellowship,
Of fellowship
Oh, a God is the fire;
Pull the pipes, drain the bowl.
Oh, a God is the fire
With a skoal, with a skoal.
Oh, a God is the fire;
Pull the pipes with a skoal,
For the room has a spirit in the embers,
Tis a God and our fathers knew his name,
And they worship'd him in long-forgot Decembers,
And their hearts leap'd high with the flame.
poem by Richard Hovey
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Ignoto
I love thee not for sacred chastity.
Who loves for that? nor for thy sprightly wit:
I love thee not for thy sweet modesty,
Which makes thee in perfection's throne to sit.
I love thee not for thy enchanting eye,
Thy beauty, ravishing perfection:
I love thee not for that my soul doth dance,
And leap with pleasure when those lips of thine,
Give musical and graceful utterance,
To some (by thee made happy) poet's line.
I love thee not for voice or slender small,
But wilt thou know wherefore? Fair sweet, for all.
'Faith, wench! I cannot court thy sprightly eyes,
With the base viol placed between my thighs:
I cannot lisp, nor to some fiddle sing,
Nor run upon a high stretching minikin.
I cannot whine in puling elegies.
Entombing Cupid with sad obsequies:
I am not fashioned for these amorous times,
To court thy beauty with lascivious rhymes:
I cannot dally, caper, dance and sing,
Oiling my saint with supple sonneting:
I cannot cross my arms, or sigh 'Ah me,'
'Ah me forlorn!' egregious foppery!
I cannot buss thy fill, play with thy hair,
Swearing by Jove, 'Thou art most debonnaire!'
Not I, by cock! but I shall tell thee roundly,
Hark in thine ear, zounds I can ____ thee soundly.
Sweet wench, I love thee; yet I will not sue,
Or show my love as musky courtiers do;
I'll not carouse a health to honour thee,
In this same bezzling drunken courtesy:
And when all's quaffed, eat up my bousinglass,
In glory that I am thy servile ass.
Nor will I wear a rotten Bourbon lock,
As some sworn peasant to a female mock.
Well-featured lass, thou know'st I love thee dear,
Yet for thy sake I will not bore mine ear,
To hang thy dirty silken shoe-tires there:
Not for thy love will I once gnash a brick,
Or some pied colours in my bonnet stick.
But by the chaps of hell, to do thee good,
I'll freely spend my thrice decocted blood.
poem by Christopher Marlowe
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African Touch and Russian Cure
Do you have sense my dear wench?
You shouldn't reach me soon to drench
in destitute situations dire.
A leap off Africa from mire
isn't fair the old man's hands to clench.
The pedicurists my heart wrench!
your touch pushes me in a trench
and kisses me to fall in fire.
Do you have sense my dear?
A manicurist to retrench
from her land yearns, and to avenge
poverty, likes me to hire.
Tattooists too, to me wire.
The maids mail me my thirst to quench.
Do you have sense my dear?
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Poor thieves in halters we behold; And great thieves in their chains of gold.
Psalm 104
Hope and majesty surround you
You are covered by impenetrable light
You stretch out the heavens like a curtain
And you separate the day from the night
You ride upon chariots of fire
On the clouds that cover the sky
You walk upon the wings of the wind
We exalt you oh Lord on high
The seas flee away at your presence
And the mountains fall down at your feet
The valley's they dance to see such things
And your enemies all suffer defeat
The birds all sing in the branches
Of the God who feeds them each day
The lions are fed and the mountain goats leap
The great fish of the deep they do play
The moon lights up the sky at night
And by day the sun warms the earth
You hold these things in the palm of your hand
And all these things you preserve
Hide your face and the whole world is troubled
Hold your breath and we crumble and die
Look away and the world falls to pieces
We are lost without our Lord on high
I will sing to the Lord as long as I live
I'll tell the story, not the half but the whole
Of my glorious Father in heaven above
Bless the Lord oh my soul
poem by Frank McEleny
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Glorious Majesty
Hope and majesty surround you
You are covered by impenetrable light
You stretch out the heavens like a curtain
And you separate the day from the night
You ride upon chariots of fire
On the clouds that cover the sky
You walk upon the wings of the wind
We exalt you oh Lord on high
The seas flee away at your presence
And the mountains fall down at your feet
The valley's they dance to see such things
And your enemies all suffer defeat
The birds all sing in the branches
Of the God who feeds them each day
The lions are fed and the mountain goats leap
The great fish of the deep they do play
The moon lights up the sky at night
And by day the sun warms the earth
You hold these things in the palm of your hand
And all these things you preserve
Hide your face and the whole world is troubled
Hold your breath and we crumble and die
Look away and the world falls to pieces
We are lost without our Lord on high
I will sing to the Lord as long as I live
I'll tell the story, not the half but the whole
Of my glorious Father in heaven above
Bless the Lord oh my soul
poem by Frank McEleny
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