0361 Over My Dead Body..
The central aisle – more, an asphalted roadway –
of Brompton Cemetery would be hard to beat.
It’s no Forest Lawns, Pere Lachaise, but great
for passing trade, of all peculiar sorts – a
constant stream of cyclists,
rollerskaters, boardies, headphoned joggers, even
snowboards briefly – tourists,
lovers, quaintly; and all, as in
John Donne’s verse or Stanley Spencer’s paintings,
shoulderbone to shoulderbone
desperately calling for our attention
to that which we least wish to
attend to right now, while there is
a now.
And since the undergrowth
between the aisles grows
like the fireweed of desire,
it’s Dangerous Liaison Central
fit to make some of these turn in their graves.
On that central Park Lane, Wienerstrasse,
Broadway, of departed spirits,
the black marble, gold-lettered plot
of Richard Tauber, heart-throb tenor
of years gone by (I do a great imitation,
forgive me, Vienna mine…) is never
without fresh flowers. He must have
touched some hearts; or got around.
A last message to the world.
Gold letters on black marble?
appropriate perhaps for
the theatrical; yet on
the other hand, if deep engraved,
if not so gravely,
‘Where was I when I needed me? ’
(the title of a Broadway memoir
which cheers me mindless, frequently)
might make some passers-by to pause; a
last laugh and a longest testament.
(Inspired by Spike Milligan’s tombstone)
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Halley's Comet
Halley's Comet, I-said-a Halley's Comet
How could you know that I lived in a desperate world?
How could you dream that we were all made out of stone?
What is the truth, what is the faithful lasting proof?
What is the central theme to this everlasting spoof?
Knock on my windows, link up the chains
It's gotta be easy, no splinters no pain
It's Cadillac rainbows and lots of spaghetti
And I love meatballs so you better be ready
I'm going down to the central part of town
I'm going down to the central part of town
Central part of town, I'm going down
I'm going down to the central part of town
["Halley's Comet" over doo-wop]
What did I do?
And don't be blamin' eat my cashew
For everything I do to get the story
And everything I do to pull me in
And everything I say to get the title
But when they use it on me I reject it
What would you do if you ate my daddy's shoes?
What would you say if it was naturally for you?
How would you feel if it rained on ???
How would you like to have your thick strawberry goo?
I'm sinking down, it's a glorious feeling
To make a big difference, my body is reeling
Even Carl Sagan can't shine my shoes
'Cause I know deep inside it's got to ???
(mighty fine something)
I'm going down to the central part of town
I'm going down to the central part of town
I'm going down to the central part of town
I'm going down to the central part of town
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh Sing Us Of Central Victoria
Oh sing us of central Victoria of places like Daylesford, Maryborough and Castlemaine
To that flat and open brown country that welcomes every dropp of rain
Where gold miners flocked to in their thousands a century and a half ago
And where some even amassed great fortunes in the goldfields of old Bendigo.
Oh sing us of Central Victoria the brown lands I fancy I see
Far Inland and away from suburbia some say it is God's own country
Where Indigenous black tribes once hunted in an ancient land as old as time
The ballad singers sing about it and the bards by it inspired to rhyme.
Oh sing us of Central Victoria of Maldon and Hepburn Springs
Where in the cool months of the Winter the dark bird the currawong sings,
The young man lives and works in the city but he often visualize
The beautiful song of the magpie away from the traffic and noise.
Oh sing us of Central Victoria if you feel like singing a song
Of those ancient brown lands of Victoria the God of the black tribes belong
Away from polluted suburbia where welcome swallow chirp and fly
And butcherbird's clear pleasant fluting echo to the still morning sky.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Heartache Central Time
Thought you were one who wouldnt run
Who wouldnt do me wrong
But the song that you were singing
Was the same old heartache song
You treat me fine and you wined and dined
And I believed you when you said
I love you babe, but your only aim
Was to get me in your bed
Now I dont even like you no more
But I cant get you off of my mind
Baby youve got me livin in
Heartache central time
Heartache central
Heartache central
Heartache central time
Anytime is a hurting time
With a hurting heart like mine
God knows Id get over you
If only I could find
A way to get my hurtin heart
Off heartache central time
Remember last september
When you looked into my eyes
I should have known that the love youd shown
Was nothing more than lies
I fell for you and I know its true
That I should have stopped myself
But my lonely heart was too alone
To hurt all by itself
Now I dont even like you no more
But I cant get you off of my mind
Baby youve got me livin in
Heartache central time
Heartache central
Heartache central
Heartache central time
Anytime is a hurting time
With a hurting heart like mine
God knows Id get over you
If only I could find
A way to get this hurtin heart
Off heartache central time
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Proponents of the Central America Free Trade Agreement have conveniently ignored this fundamental fact: the effect of trade on incomes in Central America and how to alleviate the adverse consequences of trade liberalization on the poor.
quote by Stephen F. Lynch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Central Park N West
(ian hunter)
The gulf and western garbage
Just aint the prettiest smell
When youre sleeping on the 4th floor up
Its like a living hell
New yorks finest rounding up the bums
The firemen get no rest,
And ambulances signal death, on central park n west.
Now there aint no sheets upon my bed,
Just a mattress and some wine.
The rain is pouring through the night
And Im glad my life is mine.
When frank carillo plays guitar
Trying to get it off his chest.
He gets the words he needs tonight
On central park n west.
And I think, I think, I think, I think, I think its the best,
When Im locked in the middle of new york city on central park n west
And I know, I know, I know, I know, I know its a mess,
But youve got to be crazy to live in the city, and new york citys the best.
And we all want just someone just like me
In the city we call home.
She leaves me sometimes when I write,
cause I write better on my own.
Bag ladies take my dollars)
Put my conscience to the test.
But waitresses give me coffee free
On central park n west.
So sing soul woman, sing the songs)
Its time to sing them now.
Im getting more than high from hearin em
Dont sing them quiet, sing them loud.
For you sang with the best of them
But now youre just a guest.
I tell you well get a hotel room
On central park n west.
cause I think, I think, I think, I think, I think its the best,
When Im locked in the middle of new york city on central park n west
And I know, I know, I know, I know, I know its a mess,
But youve got to be crazy to live in the city, and new york citys the best.
I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, oh yeah.
I think, I think, I think, I think, I think its the best,
When Im locked in the middle of new york city on central park n west.
I know, I know, I know, I know, I know its a mess,
But youve got to be crazy to live in the city, and new york citys the best.
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Big Candy Apple
New York City is hoppin'
The Big Apple is Candy-Red
Times Square is quite an affair
Never mind the thoughts slinking outta our heads;
The lights of broadway are neon flashin'
The Rocketts are doin' their dance-
New York City is hoppin'
All glamour-all glitz-all romance;
Forgive me if i miss ya
'Cause i've got so much here to do
The Big Apple has called out to me
And i'm busy takin' in the view;
The Statue of Liberty she beckons
Central Park is bidding me to come as well
So much to do and so little time left
And riding the subways can be h-! ;
But in the end its really all worth it
The Big Candy Apple is great
Check it out and learn what its all about
I'll meet you on Broadway at half past eight;
Dedicated to New York-Then-Now-and Forever.
To The Movie: Sex in The City 2- Soon to Be Released.
Sarah Jessica Parker-actress-producer-New Head of Halston-etc.
To Carla Cravens-Soul daughter-Interior Designer..movie maker
To Katie-My cuz
To Nancy Grace who is every victims Angel
May 10,2010
poem by Theodora Onken
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It's funny because I think a lot of it is simply... We've never considered ourselves satirists, but because we're on Comedy Central and because we're South Park on Comedy Central, we can do any topic we want.
quote by Trey Parker
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Further study of central nervous action, however, finds central inhibition too extensive and ubiquitous to make it likely that it is confined solely to the taxis of antagonistic muscles.
quote by Charles Scott Sherrington
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Broadway
(barry mann/cynthia weil/mike stoller/jerry leiber)
They say the neon lights are bright
On broadway
They say theres always magic in the air
But when youre walkin down that street
And you aint got enough to eat
The glitter rubs right off and youre nowhere
They say the chicks are somethin else
On broadway
But lookin at them just gives me the blues
cause how ya gonna make some time
When all you got is one thin dime
And one thin dime wont even shine your shoes
They say that I wont last too long
On broadway
Ill catch a greyhound bus for home they all say
But theyre dead wrong, I know they are
cause I can play this here guitar
And I wont quit till Im a star
On broadway
But theyre dead wrong, I know they are
cause I can play this here guitar
And I wont quit till Im a star
On broadway
On broadway
Im gonna make it, yeah
On broadway
Ill be a big, big man
On broadway
Ill have my name in lights
On broadway
Everybody gonna know me
On broadway
All up and down broadway
On broadway
song performed by by Eric Carmen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Broadway
They say the neon lights are bright
On Broadway
They say there's always magic
In the air
But when you're walkin' down the street
And you ain't had enough to eat
The glitter rubs right off
And you're nowhere
They say the women treat you fine
On Broadway
But lookin' at them
Just gives me the blues
How ya gonna make some time
When all you got is one thin dime
And one thin dime won't even
Shine your shoes
See [they say?] that I won't last too long
On Broadway
I'll catch a Greyhound bus for home
They all say
But they're dead wrong
I know they are
'Cause I can play this here guitar
I won't quit till I'm a star
On Broadway
On Broadway
On Broadway
Give me that crack
Give me some of that crack
Give me that crack
Ahhhhh
Broadway
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A hymn to God, the Father.
Will you forgive the sin
That I have done before,
That through which I have run
And that I could not avoid?
Will you forgive the sin
That I led others to do?
Will you forgive the sin
That I did without knowing?
To doubt if you forgive
Itself is a sin that I make.
Punish me if you want
But assure me salvation.
[Inspired by the poem under the same title by John Donne 1572-1631]
2910.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Leap In The Dark
All I know is that I am leaping in the dark
All the way to the central park
I know I have to shoot in the dark
Sun will rise late tonight from the ark
The vicious dogs chose to bark
As I take my routine leap in the dark
I know well if I turn back
I might loose as well
Not taking any such possibility of chances
I choose to walk straight through avalanches
A leap in the dark
All that way to the central park…
Xainub Nasir
poem by Xainub Nasir
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But it seemed to me that as soon as you have computer storage you could put every point you wanted in - make the ones that are less relevant to your central topic, further away or allow the central topic to move as the reader proceeded.
quote by Ted Nelson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Macleay Street and Red Rock Lane
Macleay Street looks to Mosman,
Across the other side,
With brave asphalted pavements
And roadway clean and wide.
Macleay Street hath its mansions,
Its grounds and greenery;
Macleay Street hath its terraces
As terraces should be.
Red Rock Lane looks to nowhere,
With pockets into hell;
Red Rock Lane is a horror
Of heat and dirt and smell.
Red Rock Lane hath its brothels,
Of houses one in three;
Red Rock Lane hath its corner pubs
As fourth-rate pubs should be.
Macleay Street, cool and quiet,
Is marked off from the town,
And standing in the centre
The tall arc lamps look down.
The jealous closed cabs vanish
That stole from out the row,
Fair women stroll bareheaded,
And theatre parties go.
Red Rock Lane, hot with riot,
Hides things that none should know;
The furtive couples vanish
Through doorways dark and low.
Lust, thievery, drink and madness
In one infernal stew—
And Mrs Johnson, raving,
Walks out—bareheaded too.
Macleay Street hath its swindles,
But on a public scale;
Macleay Street hath its razzles
Until the night grows pale.
Macleay Street hath its scandals,
But—only this is plain,
That nothing is a scandal
Down there in Red Rock Lane.
Macleay Street looks to Mosman
In morning’s rosy glow,
And freshly to the city
The summer-suited go
While wild-eyed, foul and shaking,
Red Rock Lane wakes again.
This morning at the Central
They’re fining Red Rock Lane.
The Central says “the risin’”,
“Seven days”, or what you will;
Macleay Street says, “Drive slowly”
When any one is ill.
The law sends Black Maria
When Red Rock Lane is dead.
But doctors come in motor cars
When Macleay Street’s got a head.
The grey-faced, weedy parents
Sunk in Red Rock Lane holes—
They worry, pinch, and perish
To save their children’s souls.
The fairy of Macleay Street
Shall never soil her hands—
Her Pa is independent,
Or high up in “the Lands”.
And—well, there seems no moral,
And nothing more to tell,
But because of that fierce sympathy
Of souls to souls in hell;
And because of that wild kindness
To souls in sordid pain,
My soul I’d rather venture
With some in Red Rock Lane.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Broadway
(ian hunter)
Green lights on broadway
All the magic seems to say
Come and ride with me baby you know
Its got to be the greatest show on broadway
Out here on the streets they say
You can see your life in one day
I long I long I long I long I long to hear every single street singer
Oh what a mood that feeling brings
You can capture life in a jar
Chances are that youll find out on broadway
Who you really are
Sitting in a lonely room
Staring through the evening gloom
Shell never make the grade on broadway
Shell never spend exciting nights
Surrounded by a maze of lights
And stars that line the streets on broadway
Broadway
When the neon lights are shining bright
She knows shes going to make it someday
Broadway
You can hear the music of the night
She knows that she will
Broadway
When the neon lights are shining bright
Oh I know shes going to make it some day
Broadway
You can hear the music of the night
I know that she will
I said
Broadway
Oh how I love you how I love you
Broadway
How I love you how I love you
Broadway
Its your show I know I know
But chances are youll find out on broadway
Who you really are
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I thought he was an interesting central figure, central character, one who is definitely not your typical central character figure in a film, who's easy to like. He's not easy to like. It forces you to involve yourself with what's going on.
quote by Patrick Warburton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Single Black Rose
A single Black Rose to turn the tide
A single Black Rose to make one die
A single Black Rose to ensnare the soul
A single Black Rose to widen that hole
A single Black Rose to melt the heart
A single Black Rose to force a start
A single Black Rose to entwine the bodies
A single Black Rose to dictate the deaths of these
A single Black Rose to lie upon her breast
A single Black Rose to stop the tears from soaking his vest
A single Black Rose to mourn this memory
A single Black Rose to become a plot in this cemetery
A single Black Rose to take a life
A single Black Rose to end his strife.
(8/21/2007)
poem by Michael Koelliker
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On Broadway
About me young careless feet
Linger along the garish street;
Above, a hundred shouting signs
Shed down their bright fantastic glow
Upon the merry crowd and lines
Of moving carriages below.
Oh wonderful is Broadway -- only
My heart, my heart is lonely.
Desire naked, linked with Passion,
Goes trutting by in brazen fashion;
From playhouse, cabaret and inn
The rainbow lights of Broadway blaze
All gay without, all glad within;
As in a dream I stand and gaze
At Broadway, shining Broadway -- only
My heart, my heart is lonely.
poem by Claude McKay
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Central Station
The lady with the faint moustache
She's out of face from smoking hash
She says she's on the game for cash
She tells it to lads yesterday
Both liked it the normal way
And tells me of a usual pay
Down in central station
Waiting on my friend
The girl who works at Casey Jones
She's making meat from broken bones
And answers all the telephones
The old boy who's been on the wine
He reads aloud his broken lines
And tells me that his sun don't shine
Down in central station
Waiting on my friend
Down in central station
This day will never end
The lady's off to pay her rent
And bitch about the government
With every hour that heaven sent
Casey Jones has closed its doors
They've cleaned the tables
Bleached the floors
And the old boy's off to drink some more
Down in central station
Waiting on my friend
Down in central station
This day will never end
This day will never end
song performed by by Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0211 It Takes All Sorts
It takes all sorts to make a world, they say
(how do 'they' know anyway?) :
but it certainly looks like that here this sunny day:
some just want to be as ordinary as they can be.
don't want to stand out in a crowd.
some don't want to be noticed at all.
some are the opposite - pompous, arrogant, reckon they've made it..
some have fallen flat on their face - as happens.
some get fresh flowers every week from secret admirers.
some are only smartened up once a year when their distant relations come to look them up.
some would like us to know that they know Latin or Greek or both.
some have a ready biblical text on their lips. Or a favourite hymn.
some are war heroes but are truly modest about it.
some are genuinely famous and want you to know it - or their relatives do.
some are unashamedly sentimental.
some are at the mercy of relatives who know what one should do.
The tombstones in Brompton Cemetery are a shoulder-to-shoulder lot;
too many to take in or care individually about
unless you check the one you've been sunbathing beside.
But as you rollerblade down the broad main avenue
in your sunglasses
with your sweater around your waist,
an ice-cream in one hand
and a small paper bag from the chemist in the other,
you may have missed that
every tombstone has a cheerful soul sitting on it
all looking about 35 years old, curiously,
swinging their feet in the sun and chatting with each other
and commenting lightly as you pass
with your doctor's prescription from the chemist,
wondering what you'll make of your life. Or have done so far....
You should listen to them one day.
They're pretty good judges of character by now.
But not everybody notices them.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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