Dianne, Mercy And John
i do not know how to describe this
since i am not a fashion designer
neither am i a make up artist or a
director of a cabaret show, but let me try
let me say, i do not know them in person
so i do not know their names
i got this picture somewhere and i claim
no knowledge about who and what
but let us pretend that the one in heavy makeup
is Mercy: thick red lips like red strawberries
i could have said apples, a huge neck like that
of a lioness, giraffe is sexier,
the cape is gray and silky so i will not say
that it is more of a sail for a boat
the breasts looks more like a chest
perhaps to make it appear buxomy
air is exhaled.
the one at the middle looks like a man to
me with a diminishing hairline, white polo shirt
with gray marks and a black undershirt
i think i once met him in the ship going to
the big city but i can't really remember him
completely. Was he the one who constructed a
dark yellow building in the town? Is he the
postmaster of Chicago? I am sure he is Filipino.
the third one is wearing grays stocking, a gray skirt
and lone hair. I sense it is a wig. The arm has muscles
and the neck has Adam's apple.
They are all smiling. Mercy calls this a cross-over
Dianne says this is it. And John says this is fun
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Picture of a 23-year-old Youth Painted by His Friend of the Same Age, an Amature
He finished the painting yesterday noon. Now
he studies it in detail. He has painted him in a
gray unbuttoned coat, a deep gray; without
any vest or any tie. With a rose-colored shirt;
open at the collar, so something might be seen
also of the beauty of his chest, of his neck.
The right temple is almost entirely
covered by his hair, his beautiful hair
(parted in the manner he perfers it this year).
There is the completely voluptuous tone
he wanted to put into it when he was doing the eyes,
when he was doing the lips.... His mouth, the lips
that are made for consummation, for choice love-making.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Shades Of Gray (Master Backing Track Take 98)
When the world and I were young, just yesterday
Life was such a simple game a child could play
It was easy then to tell right from wrong
Easy then to tell weak from strong
When a man should stand and fight
Or just go along
But today, there is no day or night
Today, there is no dark or light
Today, there is no black or white
Only shades of gray
I remember when the answer seemed so clear
We had never lived with doubt, or tasted fear
It was easy then to tell truth from lies
Selling out from compromise
Who to love and who to hate
The foolish from the wise
But today, there is no day or night
Today, there is no dark or light
Today, there is no black or white
Only shades of gray
It was easy then to know what was fair
When to keep and when to share
How much to protect your heart
And how much to care
But today, there is no day or night
Today, there is no dark or light
Today, there is no black or white
Only shades of gray
Only shades of gray
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Serene
A sea of cloth on an early morning
A wooden boat afloat
The cloth of blue and gray clouds
Still touching
Hands and Lips
A man wearing a straw hat
A woman on green skirt watching
Him sail back,
A child cradled on her arms
Serene in sleep
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Horse Head Fiddle
i look for him in everywhere
in everywhere i found him not
exhausted i sleep in steppe
in the dream my gray horse spoke to me
find me neath the killing cliff
find me neath the killing cliff
hang my skull on the old larch tree
carve from its wood a two string fiddle
cover over with the skin of my face
string my hair down the neck in place
weave together anger and grief
bow down bow down and sing
i will return through you
strong and gray on mountain high
his black and white faces go running by
strong and gray on mountain high
he come with herd black faces wild
song performed by by 16 Horsepower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shades Of Gray
By barry mann and cyntha weil
When the world and I were young,
Just yesterday.
Live was such a simple game,
A child could play.
It was easy then to tell right from wrong.
Easy then to tell weak from strong.
When a man should stand and fight,
Or just go along.
But today there is no day or night
Today there is no dark or light.
Today there is no black or white,
Only shades of gray.
I remember when the answers seemed so clear
We had never lived with doubt or tasted fear.
It was easy then to tell truth from lies
Selling out from compromise
Who to love and who to hate,
The foolish from the wise.
But today there is no day or night
Today there is no dark or light.
Today there is no black or white,
Only shades of gray.
[instumental interlude]
It was easy then to know what was fair
When to keep and when to share.
How much to protect your heart
And how much to care.
But today there is no day or night
Today there is no dark or light.
Today there is no black or white,
Only shades of gray.
Only shades of gray.
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ducks of Equality
Dark brown-black ducks
splish-splash and
pitter-patter on
gently rocking waves
of glee
When a light gray-white duck
tip-taps and
tip-toes
shyly shivering
'May I join? ' quacks he.
The dark brown-black ducks
easily accept
the light gray-white duck
as one of their own
and joyfully they swim and play
In chilly water
'til they're freezing to the bone
And I wonder:
Why can't America be
more like the
dark brown-black ducks
and the
light gray-white duck
floating on the waves
of acceptance and equality?
poem by Charlotte Riddle
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Black N White (Cloak N Dagger Poem)
I've always been a man who treasures black and white.
One either is still breating or one must be dead,
all cats are gray due to the colour of the darkest night
so black and white is king and that is what I said.
Be flexible said he whose bow was made of pine,
there came a point when nothing could extend it more,
the splinter took his eye, he fell into the vat of wine
his ship was lost at sea and never did return to shore.
A friend named Malcolm Williams, Nigger though to me
was quite ashamed of being black, me being white,
went through Chicago after curfew, it was hard to see
I figured it could be an asset to be dark without the light.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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So I Have Become The Middle Man
So I have become the middle man
In this world
And I have so much gray hair on my head
That I don't like at all
I love blond hair
And I find it to be so attractive in men
But the truth is that I have that ugly gray hair
That God gave me
For a reason
poem by Aldo Kraas
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0004 M i n d
and mind might ask,
why then are brain cells gray? Is it
because the world is just
so wonderful, that they, stunned
and amazed, cannot decide
which colour to praise first?
(Mix all the colours of the paints,
and the result is gray.)
or is it because they feel themselves
so dull in comparison
with the miracle which is creation,
the miracle they (miracles themselves) , faithful, serve?
(Mix all the colours of the spectrum,
and the result is white.)
or is it, because they know
their work lies between ultimates
such as (do they themselves
call them this?) black,
and white? do they know
their work is equity –
to balance all things, so that gray is not gray
as we use gray for worldly metaphor; but
the gray of lakes at peace;
of silver that lives in itself,
needing no sun but its own innerness;
mercury that is moved but longs
to be united in a perfect sphere;
gray of clouds that know
the blessings that they hold;
and, the shining gray of mind -
for which gray hair is living metaphor,
the wisdom which life holds in store for you -
as how many poets, this moment round the world,
are joining new electric paths of thought between
these tiny, great gray worm-like cells which hide, compact,
their vast and inner space which spins out eager words
of metaphor, for that so nameless,
boundless, dazzling spectrum,
the radiant space of self?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Somewhere In Between
(phil vassar, julie wood)
Sometimes I forget, then I remember
Sometimes I hold on, then I let go
Sometimes I fight, then I surrender
Losing yous been harder than youll ever know
Im just caught here halfway there
Im hangin in mid-air
Somewhere in between in the middle
Of the darkness and the light
All I can see is the hazy gray
Between the black and white
Im not laughin - Im not cryin
Im not livin - Im not dyin - Im not flyin
And Im not down on my knees
Until Im over you Im gonna be stuck
Somewhere in between
The funny thing about your memory
Is how it takes me by surprise
How suddenly it sneaks up on me
Comes around and cuts me down to size
Theres a crossroad up ahead
Im just not there yet im
Somewhere in between in the middle
Of the darkness and the light
All I can see is the hazy gray
Between the black and white
Im not laughin - Im not cryin
Im not livin - Im not dyin - Im not flyin
And Im not down on my knees
Until Im over you Im gonna be stuck
Somewhere in between
Im just not there yet im
Somewhere in between in the middle
Of the darkness and the light
All I can see is the hazy gray
Between the black and white
Im not laughin - Im not cryin
Im not livin - Im not dyin - Im not flyin
And Im not down on my knees
Until Im over you Im gonna be stuck
Somewhere in between
Somewhere in between
song performed by by Phil Vassar
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Gray Choice
We assume the world is black & white,
But what about blue & yellow?
What about when the fork in the road has 3 spikes
And we assume the world won’t end
Even if we make the gray choice
But what if we make the gray choice,
The one in between?
What happens when you dare to dream,
Dare to make the center choice?
If you dare to ask this question,
It doesn’t hurt to try again
And if no one will answer you,
Then dare to dream and make that choice
La lyra es, telemann, suite
You were wearing a polka dot one piece
Got your pic
From that white sand beach
You look smaller this time
The sadness is not visible
On your face smiling at the
Digital camera
Got your pic
My own pick
Is the sound of the lyre
On polka dot
On a polka dot one piece
Hiding the bruises
In your breasts
There is really no sense
There is really no sense
White sand as hideaway
A smiling face
And a piece of polka dot
Bikini
Can be more accurately revealing
The bruises
On your hips
The bruises
On your breasts
Junk him you pride a kind of your own story
I never believe you, you make no sense to me.
Polka dots, white sand and bruises do not
A true picture make, my dear.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Shades Of Grey
If you start here late no one will know what you did
No the streets are straight its the soul thats crooked
Ive been treated fine Ive been treated elegantly
But Im not one for bathing in the waters of plenty
East is east west is west
And bowery is screaming while delancey rests
Well Im south of the skating but Im north of the cash
I could sure use the money but Im ashamed to ask
The traffic has buried all of last nights rain
The words are all different but the accent is the same
The sun is white and the moon is gray
And the river is black blue and green
The young are young and the old are old
And there are no shades of gray in between
Theres at least ten different strains of smoke in the air
And my prints are on them all to prove I was there
And I love the curses but Im not one for the trenches
And I do love the walking but thank God for the benches
Its hard to tell where green begins and the city gray stops
I guess the trees all bought their armor at second hand shops
My second had is working but the minute hand is broke again
I know time will pass but I dont know when
The sun is white and the moon is gray
And the river is black blue and green
The young are young and the old are old
And there are no shades of gray in between
And there are no shades of gray in between
I know the great ones have been here but where I cant tell
Theres dreams here a plenty but theyre being withheld
And Im more impressed with the closed doors than the ones that are open
The whole place tells time by a tower clock thats broken
The pigeons are ravens and the gulls are vultures
And trash is art and cash is culture
The sun is white and the moon is gray
And the river is black blue and green
The young are young and the old are old
And there are no shades of gray in between
There are no shades of gray in between
There are no shades of gray in between
song performed by by Eagle Eye Cherry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thank You For The Picture You Sent Me
i received it yesterday the picture of two persons
(lovers as you term it)
on top of a hill
you and her
she wears her dark sunglasses and her hat while you
were proud of your thick black glossy hair
a not so receding hairline but
looking still young and
manageable
she looks younger and happy
her hands are holding the rails
a little distant from your lean muscular body
you hide something too in those covered eyes
the usual thick tinted sunglasses
she said
nothing happened between you and her
but you claim otherwise
i look at the picture again scrutinizing the element of closeness
searching for the innate marks of intimacy
the evidence for that usual terms of endearments
at all angles and noting carefully the colors and shapes of your smile
and her poise
and then i jumped into a conclusion
whatever it is, i keep it to myself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Green And Gray
I'm in a room full of people, hanging on one person's breath. We would all vote him most likely to be loved to death. I hope he still wants it, but it might remind him of when, he aimed for the bulls eye and hit it nine times out of ten. That one time his hand slipped, and I saw the dart sail away. I don't know where it landed, but I'm guessing between green and gray. We thought nothing of it, but it still haunts him like a ghost. With all eyes upon him, except two that matter the most.
He says "Green is the color everyone sees al around me. Gray is the color I see around her, and she's just a blur." The more the corwd cheers, the less I can hear and they don't really care what I play. It might be for her. But for now it's between green and gray.
We paid and we cheered. Now we're gone and to us that feels right. But for him every one of those evenings turns into a night. With another hotel room where he lays awake to pretend that he's doing fine with his notebook and discman for friends.
He says "Green is the color everyone sees al around me. Gray is the color I see around her, and she's just a blur." Night after night what I hear, what I write fills the room and my head starts to sway. It might be for her, but for now it's between green and gray.
I want you to love me, he whispers, unable to speak. And he wonders aloud why feelings so strong make the body so weak. Then he awoke. Now he's scared to death somebody heard. If it was you, and you know her, please don't say a word.
song performed by by Nickel Creek
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dead Ship Of Harpswell
What flecks the outer gray beyond
The sundown's golden trail?
The white flash of a sea-bird's wing,
Or gleam of slanting sail?
Let young eyes watch from Neck and Point,
And sea-worn elders pray,--
The ghost of what was once a ship
Is sailing up the bay.
From gray sea-fog, from icy drift,
From peril and from pain,
The home-bound fisher greets thy lights,
O hundred-harbored Maine!
But many a keel shall seaward turn,
And many a sail outstand,
When, tall and white, the Dead Ship looms
Against the dusk of land.
She rounds the headland's bristling pines;
She threads the isle-set bay;
No spur of breeze can speed her on,
Nor ebb of tide delay.
Old men still walk the Isle of Orr
Who tell her date and name,
Old shipwrights sit in Freeport yards
Who hewed her oaken frame.
What weary doom of baffled quest,
Thou sad sea-ghost, is thine?
What makes thee in the haunts of home
A wonder and a sign?
No foot is on thy silent deck,
Upon thy helm no hand;
No ripple hath the soundless wind
That smites thee from the land!
For never comes the ship to port,
Howe'er the breeze may be;
Just when she nears the waiting shore
She drifts again to sea.
No tack of sail, nor turn of helm,
Nor sheer of veering side;
Stern-fore she drives to sea and night,
Against the wind and tide.
In vain o'er Harpswell Neck the star
Of evening guides her in;
In vain for her the lamps are lit
Within thy tower, Seguin!
In vain the harbor-boat shall hail,
In vain the pilot call;
No hand shall reef her spectral sail,
Or let her anchor fall.
Shake, brown old wives, with dreary joy,
Your gray-head hints of ill;
And, over sick-beds whispering low,
Your prophecies fulfil.
Some home amid yon birchen trees
Shall drape its door with woe;
And slowly where the Dead Ship sails,
The burial boat shall row!
From Wolf Neck and from Flying Point,
From island and from main,
From sheltered cove and tided creek,
Shall glide the funeral train.
The dead-boat with the bearers four,
The mourners at her stern,--
And one shall go the silent way
Who shall no more return!
And men shall sigh, and women weep,
Whose dear ones pale and pine,
And sadly over sunset seas
Await the ghostly sign.
They know not that its sails are filled
By pity's tender breath,
Nor see the Angel at the helm
Who steers the Ship of Death!
. . . . .
'Chill as a down-east breeze should be,'
The Book-man said. 'A ghostly touch
The legend has. I'm glad to see
Your flying Yankee beat the Dutch.'
'Well, here is something of the sort
Which one midsummer day I caught
In Narragansett Bay, for lack of fish.'
'We wait,' the Traveller said;
'serve hot or cold your dish.'
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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I've tried doing so, for it was never my intention to paint only with gray. But in the course of my work I have eliminated one color after another, and what has remained is gray, gray, gray!
quote by Alberto Giacometti
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shades Of The Past
Verse 1:
Red as the roses come
My love it never was
Dark as the evening sky
We let love pass us by
I was caught in the middle
Somewhere in the gray
Now its time to leave that all behind
My uncertain yesterdays
Chorus:
Now its black or white
Now its wrong or right
I cant live without you here
Shades of the past are long gone
Ive got one thing on my mind...
Theres a choice to make
Therell be no mistake
The time has come around
Im leaving no middle ground
...let my heart be the only sound
Verse 2:
Pink is not red or white
But you brought me pink roses tonight
And I got to thinking to myself
Oh the time is right
A promise is stronger
Than a whisper
So I say goodbye to our yesterdays
And leave behind those shades of gray
Chorus
Chorus
Chorus
...let my heart be the only, only sound
(black or white, wrong or right)
Oh theres a choice to make
Therell be no mistake
The time has come around
Im leaving no middle ground
...let my heart be the only (only) sound
song performed by by Debbie Gibson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heaven Smiling Down On Me
I feel like heaven is smiling
Down on me,
The dark gray clouds is moving
Upon me,
I feel like heaven is smiling
Down on me.
Lord will my mother know me
Once I come through heaven
Light..
This whole world is changing on
Me..
That old hour glass keep pouring
All the memories down from me
I am getting tried of
Running from this dark gray cloud
That moving upon me..
I feel I have lost my place here in this
Old world..
Heaven is smiling down on me
Will you remember my name?
I want to walk around in heaven
Will you remember me once I walk
Through heaven doors...
poem by Carolyn Sears
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Faithless Nelly Gray
A Pathetic Ballad
Ben Battle was a soldier bold,
And used to war's alarms;
But a cannon-ball took off his legs,
So he laid down his arms.
Now as they bore him off the field,
Said he, 'Let others shoot;
For here I leave my second leg,
And the Forty-second Foot.'
The army-surgeons made him limbs:
Said he, 'They're only pegs;
But there's as wooden members quite,
As represent my legs.'
Now Ben he loved a pretty maid, --
Her name was Nelly Gray;
So he went to pay her his devours,
When he devoured his pay.
But when he called on Nelly Gray,
She made him quite a scoff;
And when she saw his wooden legs,
Began to take them off.
'O Nelly Gray! O Nelly Gray!'
Is this your love so warm?
The love that loves a scarlet coat
Should be a little more uniform.
Said she, ' I loved a soldier once,
For he was blithe and brave;
But I will never have a man
With both legs in the grave
'Before you had those timber toes
Your love I did allow;
But then, you know, you stand upon
Another footing now.'
'O Nelly Gray! O Nelly Gray!
For all your jeering speeches,
At duty's call I left my legs
In Badajos's breaches.'
'Why, then,' said she, 'you've lost the feet
Of legs in war's alarms,
And now you cannot wear your shoes
Upon your feats of arms!'
'O false and fickle Nelly Gray!
I know why you refuse:
Though I've no feet, some other man
Is standing in my shoes.
'I wish I ne'er had seen your face;
But, now, a long farewell!
For you will be my death' -- alas!
You will not be my Nell!'
Now when he went from Nelly Gray
His heart so heavy got,
And life was such a burden grown,
It made him take a knot.
So round his melancholy neck
A rope he did intwine,
And, for his second time in life,
Enlisted in the Line.
One end he tied around a beam,
And then removed his pegs;
And, as his legs were off -- of course
He soon was off his legs.
And there he hung till he was dead
As any nail in town;
For, though distress had cut him up,
It could not cut him down.
A dozen men sat on his corpse,
To find out why he died, --
And they buried Ben in four cross-roads
With a stake in his inside.
poem by Thomas Hood
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