The Banished Bejant
from the unpublished remains of Edgar Allan Poe
In the oldest of our alleys,
By good bejants tenanted,
Once a man whose name was Wallace—
William Wallace—reared his head.
Rowdy Bejant in the college
He was styled:
Never had these halls of knowledge
Welcomed waster half so wild!
Tassel blue and long and silken
From his cap did float and flow
(This was cast into the Swilcan
Two months ago);
And every gentle air that sported
With his red gown,
Displayed a suit of clothes, reported
The most alarming in the town.
Wanderers in that ancient alley
Through his luminous window saw
Spirits come continually
From a case well packed with straw,
Just behind the chair where, sitting
With air serene,
And in a blazer loosely fitting,
The owner of the bunk was seen.
And all with cards and counters straying
Was the place littered o'er,
With which sat playing, playing, playing,
And wrangling evermore,
A group of fellows, whose chief function
Was to proclaim,
In voices of surpassing unction,
Their luck and losses in the game.
But stately things, in robes of learning,
Discussed one day the bejant's fate:
Ah, let us mourn him unreturning,
For they resolved to rusticate!
And now the glory he inherits,
Thus dished and doomed,
Is largely founded on the merits
Of the Old Tom consumed.
And wanderers, now, within that alley
Through the half-open shutters see,
Old crones, that talk continually
In a discordant minor key:
While, with a kind of nervous shiver,
Past the front door,
His former set go by for ever,
But knock—or ring—no more.
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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Related quotes
The Haunted Palace
In the greenest of our valleys
By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace-
Radiant palace- reared its head.
In the monarch Thought's dominion-
It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
Over fabric half so fair!
Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
On its roof did float and flow,
(This- all this- was in the olden
Time long ago,)
And every gentle air that dallied,
In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
A winged odor went away.
Wanderers in that happy valley,
Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically,
To a lute's well-tuned law,
Round about a throne where, sitting
(Porphyrogene!)
In state his glory well-befitting,
The ruler of the realm was seen.
And all with pearl and ruby glowing
Was the fair palace door,
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing,
And sparkling evermore,
A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty
Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,
The wit and wisdom of their king.
But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed the monarch's high estate.
(Ah, let us mourn!- for never morrow
Shall dawn upon him desolate!)
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
And travellers, now, within that valley,
Through the red-litten windows see
Vast forms, that move fantastically
To a discordant melody,
While, like a ghastly rapid river,
Through the pale door
A hideous throng rush out forever
And laugh- but smile no more.
-THE END-
.
poem by Edgar Allan Poe
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In the Greenest of our Valleys
I.
In the greenest of our valleys,
By good angels tenanted,
Once fair and stately palace --
Radiant palace --reared its head.
In the monarch Thought's dominion --
It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
Over fabric half so fair.
II.
Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
On its roof did float and flow;
(This --all this --was in the olden
Time long ago)
And every gentle air that dallied,
In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
A winged odour went away.
III.
Wanderers in that happy valley
Through two luminous windows saw
Spirits moving musically
To a lute's well-tuned law,
Round about a throne, where sitting
(Porphyrogene!)
In state his glory well befitting,
The ruler of the realm was seen.
IV.
And all with pearl and ruby glowing
Was the fair palace door,
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing
And sparkling evermore,
A troop of Echoes whose sweet duty
Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,
The wit and wisdom of their king.
V.
But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed the monarch's high estate;
(Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow
Shall dawn upon him, desolate!)
And, round about his home, the glory
That blushed and bloomed
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
VI.
And travellers now within that valley,
Through the red-litten windows, see
Vast forms that move fantastically
To a discordant melody;
While, like a rapid ghastly river,
Through the pale door,
A hideous throng rush out forever,
And laugh --but smile no more.
poem by Edgar Allan Poe
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Alley Oop
Hey hey hey
Da da da
Thats what I say
Da da da
Theres a man in the funny papers we all know
Alley oop oop, oop oop oop
He lived way back a long time ago
Alley oop oop, oop oop oop
Well he dont eat nothin but bearcat stew
Alley oop oop, oop oop oop
Oh well this cats name is a-alley oop
Alley oop oop, oop oop oop
Hes the toughest man there is alive
Alley oop
Wears clothes from a wildcats hide
Alley oop
Hes the king of the jungle jive
Look at that caveman go!
Hes got a chauffeur thats a genuine dinosaur
Alley oop oop, oop oop oop
And he can knuckle your head before you count to four
Alley oop oop, oop oop oop
Hes got a big ugly club and a headful of hair
Alley oop oop, oop oop oop
Hes oohhhh eatin grizzly bear
(*laughter*)
Alley oop oop, oop oop oop
Forgot the words!
Hes the toughest man there is alive
Alley oop
Wears clothes from a wildcats hide
Alley oop
Hes the king of the jungle jive
Look at that caveman go!
(*scream*)
He rides through the jungle tearin limbs offa trees
(*scream*)
Alley oop oop, oop oop oop
And knocking great big monsters dead on their knees
Alley oop oop, oop oop oop
Other cats dont bug him cos they know better
Alley oop oop, oop oop oop
cos hes a mean motor scooter and a bad go-getter
Alley oop oop, oop oop oop
Well, uh, hes the toughest man there is alive
Alley oop
Wears clothes from a wildcats hide
Alley oop
Hes a hully gully king of jive
(*laugh*)
Well look at that caveman go!
(*scream*)
There he goes
(there he goes.)
Alley oop oop, oop oop oop
Look at that caveman go
Alley oop oop, oop oop oop
Ride, daddy, ride
Alley oop oop, oop oop oop
Heigh-ho, dinosaur
Alley oop oop, oop oop oop
Oh my goodness, what a big brute he is! hm!
Alley oop oop, oop oop oop
Oh, how would you like a dinosaur like that, for your own? mm!
(*laughter*)
Alley oop oop, oop oop oop
Alley oop oop, oop oop oop
(g minor. d7.)
(what now? what now? )
(just give me a minute.)
(brian, I need a b flat [...]. you know I cant read.)
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Call It Evil (demo)
I've been around watching little late shows
Drink a lot of beer
Like playing cards with my friends
Call it evil
Call it pain
It goes knock, knock, knock-knock-knock-knock, on my door
It goes knock, knock, knock-knock-knock-knock, on my door
That rock and rock, yeah, call it evil
That rock and rock, yeah, call it evil
Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, on my door, Yeah!
Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, on my door
Going to get as my babe.
It goes knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, on my door
Playing sopwith in the back of my head
What you trying to be crazy?
People look at me, they look at me, but you're dead
Call it evil
Call it pain
It goes knock, knock, knock-knock-knock-knock, on my door
It goes knock, knock, knock-knock-knock-knock, come on
Knock-knock-knock-knock, one more
Knock-knock-knock-knock
That rock and rock, yeah, call it evil
That rock and rock, yeah, call it evil
Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, on my door
Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, on my door
Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, on my door
Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, on my door
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Playing With The Boys
Id say it was the right time
To walk away
When dreaming takes you nowhere
Its time to play
Bodies working overtime
Your money dont matter
The clock keeps ticking
When someones on your mind
Im moving in slow motion
Feels so good
Its a strange anticipation
Knock, knock, knocking on wood
Bodies working overtime
Man against man
And all that ever matters
Is baby whos ahead in the game
Funny but its always the same
Playing, playing with the boys
Playing, playing with the boys
After chasing sunsets
One of lifes simple joys
Is playing with the boys
Said it was the wrong thing
For me to do
I said its just a boys game
Girls play too
My heart is working overtime
In this kind of game
People get hurt
Im afraid that someone is me
If you want to find me, Ill be
Playing, playing with the boys
Staying, playing with the boys
After chasing sunsets
One of lifes simple joys
I dont want to be the moth around your fire
I dont want to be obsessed by my desire
Im ready, Im leaving
Ive seen enough
...with the boys
Ive seen enough
You play too rough
Playing, playing with the boys
Ill be staying, playing with the boys
After chasing sunsets
One of lifes simple joys
Is playing with the boys
Playing with the boys
Playing
Playing
Playing
Playing
song performed by by Kenny Loggins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Down In The Alley
(words & music by j. stone & the clovers)
Janie, janie, janie, janie, jane jane
Janie, janie, janie, janie, jane jane
Down in the alley, just you and me
Were going bowlin till half past three
Just rockin and reelin, well get that feelin
Down in the alley, oh baby gee
I wake you now and dig you later
cause youre a fine sweet potato
Well have a ball and that aint all
Down in the alley, just you and me
The clock is striking a mournful sound
This time of evening my love comes down
Thats when Im missin your kind of kissin
Down in the alley, thats where Ill be
Down in the alley, we sure have fun
We just get started bout half past one
So if youre round just come on down
Down in the alley and you will see
Janie, janie, janie, janie, jane jane
Janie, janie, janie, janie, jane jane
Janie, janie, janie, janie, jane jane
Janie, janie, janie, janie, jane
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Solitair, a teacher
Solitaire is a card game
Developed for playing
By self with no opponent
The fact is you are
Playing your own self
This is what
Solitaire teaches you
You shuffle cards
You distribute them
Upside down
Over eight or ten rows
Not knowing which card
Lays where and in what order
Keeping only the top layer open
You start arranging
Cards in descending order
As you move an open card
The card immediately under
Opens up
The card opening up may or may ot be
Matching your requirements
While opening up card
Depends on your luck
Card moving is totally
Left to you and
A lot depends on your skill
But you keep playing
Till the time either you win
By accumulating suits in order
Or when you get stuck
With no more moving of cards possible
And you lose the game
Life is like that only
And as in solitaire you play it alone
Though you seemingly have partners
And you must know that
You are all alone playing your game
You act on visible opportunities
And as you act upon this
New venues opening up
One by one
Either to your surprise or shock
Still you keep playing the game of life
Expecting each time when you act
There will be favourable changes
And with further scopes for gaining
The only difference is that
You quit the game in solitaire
But in life the game leaves you
At its discretion
Leaving you to wonder
Whether you are a winner or loser
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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If I displayed this cup, I might look at it once or twice a week. By using it, I get pleasure from it continually.
quote by Lila Acheson Wallace
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Motown Song
(larry john mcnally)
Bring over some of your old motown records
Well put the speakers in the window and well go
On the roof and listen to the miracles
Echo to the alley down below
Lets dance together just for the night
Lets dont worry about the future or nothin else
cause just like the musics sayin you gotta take chances
Go ahead just do it and trust yourself
Theres a soul in the city
Watching over us tonight
Theres a soul in the city
Saying everythings gonna be all right
So bring over some of your old motown records
Well put the speakers in the window and well go
On the roof and listen to the miracles
Echo to the alley down below
They wish us luck
But they think were just dreaming
Lets prove them wrong baby
cause you know what luck is
Luck is believing youre lucky
Thats all and showing just a little bit of faith
Theres a soul in the city
Watching over us I swear
Theres a soul in the city
Theres a whole world waiting out there
Listen
I got plans for us
Playing like a skip on a record
Through my head all night long
But when we walk that darkened stairway
And step out on the roof
I know what were feeling cant be wrong
Bring over some of your old motown records
Well put the speakers in the window and well go
On the roof and listen to the miracles
Echo to the alley down below
Bring over some of your old motown records
Well put the speakers in the window and well go
On the roof and listen to the miracles
Echo to the alley down below
let the temptations sing it one time
Bring over some of you old motown records
Well put the speakers in the window and well go
On the roof and listen to the miracles
Echo to the alley down below
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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America In 1904
(Europe Conquers America.)
Strong for the strong and in his own conceit;
Half-boy, half-madman, playing with the fire;
Usurper, hoodlum, wed to his desire;
Loud in the hunt--afraid albeit to beat
The wolves which reared him--always with swift feet,
Booted and spurred to huddle in the mire
The malcontents, though Freedom die--no higher
Launching his truncheon; only to the street
Thundering at millionaires; unlearned, though read,
In human agony--surrendered up
To glory, war--of empty pomp the chief--
Europa, thou hast conquered! with bowed head
For Freedom slain (who prayed might pass the cup)
We pray, in faith, thy triumph may be brief!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Our Town Ghost
Five of us were playing cards
while outside someone was banging
as if, they were constructing something.
I got up to see who it was,
but there was no one there.
I scratched my head and returned
to the hand I was playing.
About a half an hour later,
we heard someone walking about.
With torch in hand, I went again to investigate.
Again, there was no one there.
I shone the torch up and down the street.
The footsteps had stopped by now.
We could only guess it was the ghost,
which roams around our little town.
It hurts no one and no one is afraid of it.
Some say it our old friend Jock.
Other say it is someone else.
Unless one of us sees it, we will never be sure.
Whoever it is we wish
they would show themselves occasionally,
so we would then know whom to say goodnight to.
5 February 2009
Authors Note:
I belong to a small Western re-enactment town called Deadwood.
The town is haunted by an arrangement of ghosts, none of them harmful. A number us have witnessed several unusual things. The poem recounts an incident, which happened one night a few years ago when five of us were playing card in the back of one the building at gone midnight.
poem by David Harris
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Blue Sky Memories (In Answer To O Ingrid Jonker, For Daleen)
Blue sky memories continually comes to me
of a day under a bright summer sun
as if a part of you stays lingering,
when I love you even more (if I could)
while continually you are snared in my remembering.
Even when times of bad weather want to come
there is an unbreakable bond between us,
while continually I am astounded by our love.
Blue sky memories continually lingers in my thoughts
when I forget all of my previous heartaches,
when continually I am lost in you
and I always know about the depth of our love.
The sparkling sun continuously brings new hope,
when we walk days, months and years together on a road.
poem by Gert Strydom
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One Night
The room was penurious and common,
Hidden over a disreputable tavern,
The alley could be seen from the window,
Unclean and narrow. From below
Came the voices of a few workmen
Who were playing cards and having a good time.
There on the vulgar on the humble bed
I had the body of love, I had the lips,
The sensuous, the rosy lips of wine,
Rosy with such a wine, that even now
Here as I write, after so many years,
In my solitary house, I am drunk again.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Paradise Alley
Come on in, have a look around
Hang your hat and find a chair
The pretty women smile at you
The partys just beginning
Theres music everywhere
Paradise alley
Paradise alley
Paradise alley
Brothers got to stick together here
Fight with one, you fight with three
The family blood is thick as mud
Day to day the world keeps spinning
Paradise alley
Paradise alley
Paradise alley
It reminds you of who you used to be
And who you are, and who youll always be
It finds you in pursuit of dreams
And hopeless schemes
Life is richer than it seems
Nothing like being in a womans arms
The one you love, the one you want
Theres one small problem, who can she be
I feel like winning her in paradise alley
Paradise alley
Paradise alley
Im gonna take you there
Paradise alley
Paradise alley
Im gonna take you there
Take you to the paradise
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In A Room Of So Many
In this room I am one with myself,
I sit alone, away from them, from the people,
I sit in the chair in the back, with only myself,
None notices me except the two people next to me.
They sit around me laughing with friends, playing their games,
They are all happy, all together, with one another,
But thats what it is to them, a game,
They don't need more people they don; t need another.
The girl on my right sits, lost, in her book,
Maybe she's there with the characters, in the past, or maybe the futrue,
She looks from word to word page to page within her book.
This is her pasttime, her fantsy, she is lost to know the books future.
To my left a boy sits facing the wall, music playing,
Both thumbs pressed against the small arrow keys,
POKeMON is what he sits and plays;
The small animals battleing growing, and looking for keys.
And here, in the middle of them of all the others, I sit alone,
At the tabble in my bubble of scilence, the aloness of being non-social,
In my green chair I write, alone.
If only I could talk to them, if only I were social.
So many people playing so many things,
UNO, rummy, conect four, cards and sharades,
These are only a few of the things,
Yet they don't notice me, my longing to know them, my own sharades.
This room is filled with every feeling, everything good,
So few differences, yet so many,
I feel apart from them, yet in a way watching feels good.,
Sitill I sit and I write, I am alone, I am one, in the room of so many.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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It's always been too slow for me. Playing. The pace of things. I'm a fast sprinter. The trouble was, after playing in the group for a few months, I couldn't reach that point.
quote by Syd Barrett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Victim of The Unseen Corner of Life
everyday i used to see her,
sitting on the sand,
playing with the dust of dreams..
her loneliness is growing up with her..
the other kids are playing on th field..
her eyes are following them as they run, jump and share fun..
her sad look falls down on the ground..
days went by..
none is there..
next the door..
they are still playing but she.. she.. she is.. where?
my little poor girl!
they hide her
in a tight room,
with her epilepsy,
with that monster
c
r
y
i
n
g
in silence..
12 years old
and the story of her cold
had been told
but they just said (her fate)
NO..!
it's not a fate
to live alone
in that pain...
it's not a fate
to feel nothing
except the four walls...
it's not a fate
to lose her happinness
next that door...
it's not a fate
to have none
by her side...
it's not a fate
to be frightened
in her little age...
it's not a fate
to be different
from the others
to see the future
as mirage...
It Is Not A Fate..!
it's not...!
there is a story behind
this fate;
it's their fault..
their own fault...
as once they killed her peace
before 8 dark scary years...!
poem by True Little Angel
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Spent My Youth in an Alley
Went back this weekend out of town
For a family birthday party
To where I spent
Some of my youth
Backing my sister in-law's car
Out of her garage
Into the alley behind her house
Brought back some memories
Drove slowly as I bumped along
Over old potholes
Who's supposed to fill them now
Heavy brush and blackberries on both sides
Ahead of me was a young boy on his bike
He had a bouncing empty wagon forced to follow
Tied with a frayed piece of scrap rope
To the seat post of the bike
Another boy was following
As fast as he could on foot
This was only a couple of blocks
From the alley where I used to play
Alleys are great
Protected from traffic and parent's eyes
Old man Mitchell's dogs would warn us
If anyone was coming
Back then my alley
Had fresh oil and gravel
If the city truck didn't come in time
My grandfather kept the potholes filled
Brought the fill home from work
In the bed of his pickup
Sometimes I'd get to help him shovel
I asked him why he did it
'I'm not paying to get
Your grandmother's car realigned again
How in the hell
Does she find every new pothole? '
Once we were done
I'd get to wash his truck
Sit behind the steering wheel
And pretend
Nothing disappointing when the alley was young
Fresh oil and gravel
All the wild blackberries you could eat
What more could you want
When I took my sister in-law's car back
The boys were gone
Without them playing in the alley
It's just a dusty shadow-ridden place
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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Gasoline Alley Bred
Woman, get your head out of curlers.
Time get your butt out of bed.
Get down your hats and baggage, my child.
Going back home,
going back to the homestead.
I'm a-gonna heat me some water,
and put a shine upon my shoes.
Telephone my ma,
Keep the room above Joe's
'Cause we're coming back,
coming back to the homestead.
Everything is packed,
getting back to the homestead.
This time, this time we'll stay.
I know that we could have made it;
we had ideas in our heads.
And I wish somehow
we could have saved it
but we're Gasoline Alley bred.
Yet the years haven't really been wasted,
and I know it in my head.
We did good for the life that we've tasted
'cause we're Gasoline Alley, Gasoline Alley bred
Woman, you can really believe it,
I did everything a man could do.
Breaking my back just to make us a dime.
That won't mean a damn
when no one wants to know you.
Woman, I know how you're feeling.
I've seen the hurt upon your face.
How many time do you think that I've cried?
Knowing every day that your heart was getting broken,
holdin' back your pride til you were nearly chokin'
Oh let's get away.
chorus
Gasoline Alley, Gasoline Alley Bred
Gasoline Alley, Gasoline Alley Bred
Gasoline Alley, Gasoline Alley Bred
Gasoline Alley, Gasoline Alley Bred
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Golf-Slow Torture by Handicap
Golf is such a silly game
The less you play it-The greater the fame
But not alas for your average punter
Who stalks the long grass, more like a hunter.
He really isn't playing at all
Half the time he's looking for his ball.
Head always moving(if not hanging in shame)
The ball stays still, so the players to blame.
As more and more strokes we amass
Mainly playing from the longest grass
Temper flaming and words quite blue!
Are you sure this is the game for you?
The just one shot, that you do not thin
And look! Your nearest the pin
Bringing the fame that you seek
Ensuring your return, and the dream
That you will do better - next week!!!
poem by Keith Oldrey
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