The Acrobat
The Circus gongs excite the Throngs in nighttime Never Land -
They swarm to see the destiny of Freaks at their command,
While Acrobats step pitapat above the shifting sands
And Lady Fat sits down to chat and oozes charm unplanned.
The Dwarfs in suits, so small and cute when marching with the Band,
Ask crimson Clowns with frozen frowns, to hold a mutant hand,
While Tamers' whips with withered tips, throughout the winter land,
Lure Cats entranced through hoops enhanced with flames of fires fanned.
White Elephants in big-top tents boast black-tusk contraband
To regiments of Sycophants who overflow the stands,
But No One sees anomalies, and No One understands.
At night's demise, the dither dies, the lonesome Crowd disbands,
Down dead-end streets the Horde retreats, their tattered rags in strands,
And Janes and Joes reweave their woes, for thoughts of change are banned.
To play a part in Three-Ring Art, I thought I'd try my hand -
I mastered skills, I felt the thrills, I breathed and seethed firsthand -
But destiny denied to me to taste a lifetime spanned
With tightrope walks and trapeze chalks... excepting second-hand...
For alcohol provoked a fall, as if a reprimand,
And now, a heap, I sometimes keep the ticket office manned...
poem by Terry O'Leary
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Come Away
(g.bowser/j.jupp)
Published by chappell & co., ltd. - capac
As I walk along the lonely streets
I cant talk to the people that I meet
I see them come, and I see them go
I see them smile, and say hello
Come with me and take my hand
Ooh, fly away to another land, oh yes we will
Come with me and take my hand
Well fly away to another land
Come over here little girl
And Ill show you another world
Where we can be free to do as we want
Live our lives as we please, and say what we like, oh
Come with me and take my hand, ooh
Well fly away to another land
Come with me and take my hand, oh
And fly away to another land
Theres so many things that remain to be done
And no one has thought of a way to begin
So follow me into my life
Come with me and take my hand (and take...)
Fly away to another land (fly away to another land)
Come with me and take my hand (ooh)
Fly away to another land (fly away to another land)
Come with me and take my hand (take my hand)
Fly away to another land (oh yes we will)
Come with me and take my hand (and take my hand, take my hand)
Fly away to another land (yeah)
Come with me and take my hand
Fly away to another land
Come with me and take my hand
Fly away to another land
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Never Land
PREFACE
This yarn is a fabric woven of several earlier warped works, lightly laced together with additional braided tales of human frailty. The looms were purling frantically... Some pearls may be found wonting, hanging loose, dangling free within a fuzzy flight of fancy... These untethered strands may be fastened, or be forgotten, or be hidden by the readers in the corners of their minds... Some may end up in stitches, others all torn up or ripped apart, others may just say ‘made of hole cloth', ‘sew what' or ‘I don't seam to get the needle point'... This wanton web is yours to spin...
Some have said that such strange things ‘have Never happened in our Land', such quaint things ‘could Never happen in our Land'', such murky things ‘will Never happen in our Land''... and this may be true... such is the gossamer that veils the human mind... and thus ensues the title of this Fantasy...
NEVER LAND
An ancient man named Peter Pan, disguised but from the past,
With feathered cap and tunic wrap and sabre's sailed his last.
Though fully grown, on dust he's flown and perched upon a mast
Atop the Walls around the sprawls, unvisited and vast -
And all the while with bitter smile he's watching us aghast.
As day begins, a spindle spins, it weaves a wanton web;
Like puckered prunes, like midday moons, like yesterday's celebs,
We scrape and grope, we seldom hope - he's watching while we ebb:
The organ grinder preaches fine on Sunday afternoons -
He quotes from books but overlooks the Secrets Carved in Runes:
'You've tried and toyed, but can't avoid or shun the pale monsoons,
It's sink or swim as echoed dim in swinging door saloons'.
The laughingstocks are flinging rocks at ball-and-chained baboons.
While ghetto boys are looting toys preparing for their doom
And Mademoiselles are weaving shells on tapestries with looms,
Cathedral cats and rafter rats are peering in the room,
Where ragged strangers stoop for change, for coppers in the gloom,
Whose thoughts are more upon the doors of crypts in Christmas bloom,
And gold doubloons and silver spoons that tempt beyond the tomb.
Mid Uzi shots from vacant lots, that strike and ricochet
A painted girl with flaxen curl (named Wendy) 's on her way
To tantalise with half-clad thighs, to trick again today;
And indiscreet upon the street she gives her pride away
To any guy who's passing by with time and cash to pay.
(In concert halls beyond the Walls, unjaded girls ballet,
With flowered thoughts of Camelot and dreams of cabarets.)
The alley ways within the maze are paved with rats and mice.
Evangelists with moneyed fists collect the sacrifice
From losers scorned and rubes reborn, and promise paradise,
While in the back they cook some crack, inhale, and roll the dice.
A bum called Boe has stubbed his toe, he's stumbled in the gutter;
With broken neck, he looks a wreck, the sparrows all aflutter,
The passers-by, they close an eye, and turn their heads and mutter:
'Let's pray for rains to wash the lanes, to clear away the clutter.'
A river slows neath mountain snows, and leaves begin to shudder.
Though rip-off shops and crooked cops are paid not once but thrice,
The painted girl with flaxen curl is paring down her price
And loosely tempts cold hands unkempt to touch the merchandise.
A crazy guy cries 'where am I', a schizo titters twice,
And double quick a lunatic affects a fight with lice.
The jungle teems, a siren screams, the air is filled with meth.
The Reverent Priest and nuns unleash the Holy Shibboleth.
And Righteous Jane who is insane, as well as Sister Beth,
While telling tales to no avail of everlasting death,
At least imbue Hagg Avenue with whisky on their breath.
The Reverent Priest combats the Beast, they're kneeling down to prey,
To fight the truth with fang and tooth, to toil for yesterday,
To etch their mark within the dark, to paint their résumé
On shrouds and sheets which then completes the devil's dossier.
Old Dan, he's drunk and in a funk, all mired in the mud.
A Monk begins to wash Dan's sins, and asks 'How are you, Bud? '
'I'm feeling pain and crying rain till soon there is a flood.
And no god's there who seems to care I'm always coughing blood.'
The Monk, he turns, Dan's words he spurns and lets the bible thud.
Well, Banjo Boy, he will annoy with jangled rhymes that fray:
'The clanging bells of carousels lead blind men's minds astray
To rings of gold they'll never hold in fingers made of clay.
But crest and crown will crumble down, when withered roots decay.'
Now, Railroad Bob has lost his job, he's got no place for working,
His wife, she cries with desperate eyes, their baby's head's a' jerking.
The union man don't give a damn, Big Brother lies a' lurking,
The boss' in cabs are picking scabs, they count their money, smirking.
A pregnant lass with eyes of glass has never learned to cope.
Once set adrift her fall was swift, she slid a slipp'ry slope -
She casts the Curse, the Holy Verse, and shoots a shot of dope,
And stalks discreet Asylum Street her daily horoscope -
The stray was struck by random truck which was her only hope.
Well, Banjo Boy, with little joy, he strums her life entire:
'The wayward waif was never safe; her stars were dark and dire.
Born midst the rues and avenues where lack and want aspire
Where no one heeds the childish needs that little ones require;
Where faith survives in tempest lives, a swirl within the briar,
Infinity grinds as time unwinds, until the winds expire.
Her last caprice? The final peace that no one could deny her -
Whipped by the flood, stray beads of blood are spattered on the spire;
Though beads of sweat are cool and wet, cold clotted blood is dryer.'
Though broken there, she's fled the snare with dying thoughts serene.
And now she's dead, the rumours spread: her age? a sweet 16,
With child, unwed, her soul dyed red, her body so unclean.
A place is sought where she can rot, avoiding churchyard scenes,
In limey pits, as well befits, behind forbidding screens;
And all the while a dirge is styled on tattered tambourines
Which echo through the human zoo in valleys of the Queens.
Without rejoice, in hissing voice, near soil that's seldom trod
'In pious role, God bless my soul', was mouthed with mitred nod,
Neath scarlet trim with black, and grim, behind a robed facade -
'She'll burn in hell and sulphur smell', spat Priest and man of god.
Well, angels sweet with cloven feet, they sing in girl's attire,
But Banjo Boy, he's playing coy while chanting in the choir:
'The clueless search within the church to find what they desire,
But near the nave or gravelled grave, there is no Rectifier.'
And when he's through, without ado, he stacks some stones nearby her.
A sodden dreg with wooden leg is dancing for a dime,
To sacred psalms and other balms, all ticking with the time.
He's 22, he's almost through, he's melted in his prime,
His bane is firm, the canker worm dissolves his brain to slime.
With slanted scales and twisted jails, his life's his only crime.
The eyes behind the head inclined reflect a universe
Of shanty towns and kings in crowns and parties in a hearse,
Of heaping mounds of coffee grounds and pennies in a purse,
Of heart attacks in shoddy shacks, of motion in reverse,
Of reasons why pale kids must die, quite trite and curtly terse,
Of puppet people at the steeple, kneeling down averse,
Of tinkle tones and megaphones with empty words and worse,
Of life's begin' in utter sin and other things perverse,
Of lewd taboos and residues contained within the Curse,
While poets blind, in gallows' rind, carve epitaphs in verse.
Bob walks the streets and begs for eats or little jobs for trying
'The answer's no, you ought to know, no use for you applying,
And don't be sad, it aint that bad, it's soon your time for dying.'
The air is thick, his baby's sick, the cries are multiplying.
The backyard blight is hid from sight, it's covered up and bland,
The beggar clump beside the dump has pencil box in hand.
With sightless eyes upon the skies he's lying there unmanned,
With no relief and bitter grief too dark to understand.
The backyard blight is hid from sight, it's covered up and bland,
And Robin Hood and Brother Hood lie buried in the sand.
While all night queens carve figurines in gelatine and jade,
Behind a door and on the floor a deal is finally made;
The painted girl with flaxen curl has plied again her trade
And now the care within her stare has turned a darker shade.
Her lack of guile and parting smile are cutting like a blade.
Some boys with cheek play hide and seek within a house condemned
Their faces gaunt reflecting want that's hard to comprehend.
With no excuse an old recluse is waiting to descend.
His eyes despair behind the stair, he's never had a friend
To talk about his hidden doubt of how the world will end -
To die alone on empty throne and other Fates impend.
And soon the boys chase phantom joys and, presto when they're gone,
The old recluse, with nimble noose and facial features drawn,
No longer waits upon the Fates but yawns his final yawn
- Like Tinker Bell, he spins a spell, in fairy dust chiffon -
With twisted brow, he's tranquil now, he's floating like a swan
And as he fades from life's charades, the night awaits the dawn.
A boomerang with ebon fang is soaring through the air
To pierce and breach the heart of each and then is called despair.
And as it grows it will oppose and fester everywhere.
And yet the crop that's at the top will still be unaware.
A lad is stopped by roving cops, who shoot in disregard.
His face is black, he's on his back, a breeze is breathing hard,
He bleeds and dies, his mama cries, the screaming sky is scarred,
The sheriff and his squad at hand are laughing in the yard.
Bob's wife's in town, she's broken down, she's ranting with a fury,
Their baby coughs, the doctor scoffs, the snow is all a' flurry,
Their life of sin has done them in, they skirmish, scrimp and scurry.
It's getting late, Bob's tempting fate, his choices cruel and blurry,
His midnight dreams are filled with screams, he knows he needs to hurry -
He chooses gas, they breathe their last, there's no more cause to worry.
Per protocols near ivied walls arrayed in sage festoons,
The Countess quips, while giving tips, to crimson caped buffoons:
'To rise from mass to upper class, like twirly bird tycoons,
You stretch the treat you always eat, with tiny tablespoons'
A learned leach begins to teach (with songs upon a liar) :
'Within the thrall of Satan's call to yield to dim desire
Lie wicked lies that tantalize the flesh and blood Vampire;
Abiding souls with self-control in everyday Hellfire
Will rest assured, when once interred, in afterlife Empire'.
The words, they weave the make believe, while slugs in salt expire,
Baptised in tears and rampant fears, all mirrored in the mire.
It's getting hot on private yachts, though far from desert plains -
'Well, come to think, we'll have a drink', Sir Captain Hook ordains.
Beyond the blame and pit of shame, outside the Walled domains,
They pet their pups and raise their cups, take sips of pale champagnes
To touch the tips of languid lips with pearls of purple rains.
Well, Gypsy Guy would rather die than hunker down in chains,
Be ridden south with bit in mouth, or heed the hold of reins;
The ones that plot are in a spot, the boss man he complains:
'The gypsy soul, I can't control, my patience wears and wanes;
They will not cede to common greed, one only way remains,
In boxcar bins, with violins we'll freight them out in trains,
And in the bogs, they'll die like dogs, and everybody gains.'
Arrayed in shawls with crystal balls, and gazing at the moons,
Wiled women tease with melodies and spooky loony tunes
While making toasts to holey ghosts on rainy day lagoons:
'Well, here's to you and others too, embedded in the dunes,
Avoid the stares, avoid the snares, avoid the veiled typhoons
And fend your way as every day, 'gainst heavy heeled dragoons.'
The birds of pray are on their way, in every beak the Word
(Of ptomaine tomes by gnarly gnomes) whose meaning is obscured;
They roost aloof on every roof, obscene but always herd,
To tell the tale of Jonah's whale and other rhymes absurd -
With shifty eyes, they're giving whys for living life deferred.
While jackals lean, hyenas mean, and hungry crocodiles
Feast in the lounge and never scrounge, lambs languish in the aisle.
The naive dare to say 'unfair, let's try to reconcile.
We'll all relax and weigh the facts, let justice spin the dial.'
With jaundiced monks and minds pre-shrunk, the jury is compiled.
The Rulers meet, First Ladies greet, the Kings appear in style.
Before the Court, their sins are short, they're swept into a pile;
With diatribes and petty bribes, the jurors are beguiled.
The Herd entreats, the Shepherd bleats the verdict of the trial:
'You have no face. Stay in your place, stay in the Rank and File.
And wait instead, for when you're dead, for riches after while';
Aristocrats add caveats while sailing down the Nile:
'If Minds are mugged or simply drugged with philtres in a vial,
Then few indeed will fail to feed the Pharaoh's Crocodile.'
The wordsmiths spin, the bankers grin and politicians smile,
The riff and raff, they never laugh, they mark a martyred mile.
The rituals are finished, all, here comes the Reverent Priest.
He leads the crowds beneath the clouds, and there the flock is fleeced
With crossing signs and bloody wines and consecrated yeast,
'The last are first, the rich are cursed.' (The leached remain the least.)
His step is gay without dismay before his evening feast;
He thanks the Lord for room and board and bows to Eden East;
He doesn't sigh or wonder why the sins have not decreased.
The sinking sun is now undone, the sky is fading red.
A spider black hides in a crack and spins a silken thread
And babes will soon collapse and swoon, on curbs they call a bed;
With vacant eyes they fantasize and dream of gingerbread,
And then are freed, though still in need, from anguish of the dead.
While midnight bats are gnawing gnats and feasting free unseen,
A toddler's fed from garbage sheds an elegant cuisine.
Along the trails in distant dales a lonesome wolverine
Feigns appetite on fogy nights and days of crystalline.
The circus gongs excite the throngs in nighttime Never Land -
They swarm to see the destiny of Freaks at their command,
While Acrobats step pitapat across the shifting sands
And Lady Fat adores her cat and oozes charm unplanned.
The Dwarfs in suits, so small and cute when marching with the band,
Ask crimson Clowns with painted frowns, to lend a mutant hand,
While Tamers' whips with withered tips, throughout the winter land,
Lure minds entranced through hoops enhanced with flames of fires fanned.
White Elephants in big-top tents sell black tusk contraband
To Sycophants in regiments who overflow the stands,
But No One sees anomalies, and No One understands.
At night's demise, the dither dies, the lonely Crowd disbands,
Down dead-end streets the Horde retreats, their threadbare rags in strands,
And Janes and Joes reweave their woes, for thoughts of change are banned.
The Monk of Mock has fled the flock caught knocking up a tween
(She brought to light the special rite he thought to leave unseen) .
With profaned eyes they agonise, their souls no more serene
And at the shrine the flutes of wine are filled with kerosene
By men unkempt who once had dreamt but now can dream no more
Except when bellowed bellies belch an ever growing roar,
Which churns the seas and stirs a breeze that mercy can't ignore,
And in the night, though filled with fright, they try to end the War.
The slow and quick are hurling bricks and fight with clubs of rage
To break the chains and cleanse the stains of life within a cage,
But yield to stings of armoured things that crush in every age.
At crack of dawn, a broken pawn, in pools of blood and fire,
He washes wounds, in blood festooned - the waves flow nigh and nigher;
The ghetto towns are burning down - the flames grow high and higher -
And in their wake, a golden snake is rising from the pyre,
Her knees are bare, consumed in prayer, applauded by the Friar.
And soon it's clear the end is near - while magpie birds conspire,
The lowly worm is made to squirm while dangling from a wire.
The line was crossed, the battle lost, the losers can't deny,
The residues are far and few, though smoke pervades the sky.
The cool wind's cruel, a cutting tool, the vanquished ask it 'Why? ',
And bittersweet, from Easy Street, the Pashas' puffed reply:
'The rules are set, so don't forget, the rabble will comply;
The grapes of wrath may make you laugh, the day you are to die.'
The down and out, they knock about beneath the barren skies
Where homeward bound, without a sound, a wretched raven flies.
Beyond the Walls, the morning calls the newborn sun to rise,
And Peter Pan, a broken man, he tilts his head and cries.
poem by Terry O'Leary
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hold My Hand
With a little love, and some tenderness
Well walk upon the water
Well rise above this mess
With a little peace, and some harmony
Well take the world together
Well take em by the hand
cause Ive got a hand for you
cause I wanna run with you
Yesterday, I saw you standing there
Your head was down, your eyes were red
No comb had touched your hair
I said get up, and let me see you smile
Well take a walk together
Walk the road awhile, cause
cause Ive got a hand for you
Ive got a hand for you
cause I wanna run with you
Wont you let me run with you? yeah
Hold my hand
Want you to hold my hand
Hold my hand
Ill take you to a place where you can be
Hold my hand
Anything you wanna be because
I wanna love you the best that, the best that I can
See I was wasted, and I was wasting time
till I thought about your problems, I thought about your crimes
Then I stood up, and then I screamed aloud
I dont wanna be part of your problems
Dont wanna be part of your crowd, no
cause Ive got a hand for you
Ive got a hand for you
cause I wanna run with you
Ah, wont you let me run with you?
Hold my hand
Want you to hold my hand
Hold my hand
Ill take you to the promised land
Hold my hand
Maybe we cant change the world but
I wanna love you the best that, the best that I can, yeah
Hold my hand
Want you to hold my hand
Hold my hand
Ill take you to a place where you can be
Hold my hand
Anything you wanna be because
I...oh...no, no, no, no, no
Hold my hand
Want you to hold my hand
Hold my hand
Ill take you to the promised land
Hold my hand
Maybe we cant change the world but
I wanna love you the best that, best that I can
Oh, the best that I can
song performed by by Hootie & The Blowfish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Hand Remains...
i have walked with you..
this lonesome road.
over the hills and
through the valleys deep.
across the plains,
from night unto day.
through storms, harsh winds,
and unforgiving rain....
my hand remains in yours!
we have sought shelter
by the way, underneath the trees.
built small fires, and huddled,
exchanging the words of the soul.
from season unto season,
as the bark grew grey...
my hand remains in yours!
and if there be God,
was this so ordained?
the rise and fall of empires,
the rise and fall of your breasts.
though casualities many,
loss drawn in chalk...
my hand remains in yours!
call it love, or war,
fertility, or desire.
the burning of the cross,
the jeers of the crowd.
or the lonesome caw
of the crows undead...
my hand remains in yours!
and soon we come
to the final fork...
time burned down longing,
to ashe and soot.
and bodies worn,
seek the bed of earth.
but if yours continues,
my soul will follow,
destiny, and pledge...
my hand remains in yours!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pretty Vision
I saw a vision
Little boy
You covered up your own insights
But I may have held your hand
Or seen the ghost you tried to fight
Oh a vision
Little boy
You strayed down to find the clowns
Oh and when I wrote these lines for you
Not, not one of them was found
Blame the circus and the clowns
Before you blame yourself
Cause when your greatest needs go unforgiven
And your gifts go unreceived
Little boy
Man of need
Who could know that the road would fall
Not me not one of us
That surrounds your golden walls
So now blame the circus and the clowns
Before you blame yourself
Cause all your greatest needs go unforgiven
All your gifts go unreceived
Who could know of the fall
Who could slow the speed
Who could hold your hand
We all laughed and thought you were so free
Vision boy
Man of need
Oh do the monkeys get you down
Oh they promise you the dance of life
Complete with laughters crown
Little boy
Man of need
Did you find the freak show and a crowd
I said cut the canvas on the tent
Oh we were all innocent
Blame the circus and the clowns
Before you blame yourself
When your greatest needs go unforgiven
And your gifts go unreceived
Oh your greatest needs go unforgiven
And your gifts they go unreceived
Little boy
Man of need
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Man Band
Writers: leo sayer & david courtney
Well everybody knows down ladbrook grove
You have to leap across the street
You can lose your life under a taxi cab
You gotta have eyes in your feet
You find a nice soft corner and you sit right down
Take up your guitar and play
But then the law man comes says move along
So you move along all day
Well Im a one man band
Nobody knows nor understands
Is there anybody out there wanna lend me a hand
With my one man band
For three days now I havent eaten at all
My my you must be getting so thin
And soon my cap wont be large enough
To drop a half a crown in
So hey there mister dont you look so sad
Dont look so ill at ease
Well I can play you any song you like
To cheer up that life you lead
Well Im a one man band
Nobody knows nor understands
Is there anybody out there wanna lend me a hand
With my one man band
And oh oh oh look at the rain falling
Oh oh oh look at it rain
Oh look at it rain
Well nobody sees the minstrel boy as he sings his tale of woe
Nobody sees him coming
Nobody see him go
So hey there mister dont you look so sad
Dont look so ill at ease
Well I can play you any song you like
To cheer up that life you lead
Well Im a one man band
Nobody knows nor understands
Is there anybody out there wanna lend me a hand
With my one man band
Well Im a one man band
Nobody knows nor understands
Is there anybody out there wanna lend me a hand
With my one man band
Oh Im a one man band
Just a one man band
Oh Im a one man band
song performed by by Leo Sayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Indian Wedding
(orbison)
There once was an indian brave by the name of yellow hand
He fell in love with a maiden know as white sands
They vowed their love would last forever more
Then came the day that they had waited for.
Yellow hand brought her a golden feather
White sands said a prayer for good weather
The ceremonial dance grew loud and strong
Then yellow hand began their wedding song.
Oooooh oooooh oooh ooooh
Ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh, ooh ooh
Tonight, tonight, we will be one
Well walk in the land of the midnight sun
Oh white sands, come hold my lonely hand.
Then they left the warmth of the raging fire
And rode into the hills climbing higher
And suddenly the snow came swirling down
They were lost the trail could not be found.
Oooooh oooooh oooh ooooh
Ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh, ooh ooh
Tonight, tonight we will be one
Well walk in the land of the midnight sun
Oh white sands, come hold my lonely hand.
They never returned from paradise
They went to their places in the sky
And the old ones still say when the snowflakes fly
If youll listen close youll hear him cry:
Oooooh oooooh oooh ooooh
Ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh, ooh ooh
Tonight, tonight we will be one
Well walk in the land of the midnight sun
Oh white sands, come hold my lonely hand.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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August Hands
Destiny's child knows his hour
Treasured as Infinity's hand
Child of the wind sweeps eternal
A gypsy's twirl on the land
A brief respite from the minute
As charted by these hands
Retrieved the king and pawn, forgiven
Humbled by Eternity's hand
Each bequeathed a legacy
Time's anchor in the sand
And infinite love imparts
Hope's echo of the man
As is written in the stars
The vessel is bound to land
Mirrored the return of an image
Your ghost plays Destiny's hand.
poem by Lorraine Margueritte Gasrel Black
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Moving Farther On
No more the angel's outstretched hand,
No more the flames of hell are fanned,
No more my soul in no-man's-land,
No more black clouds as they disband,
No more I thought could I withstand,
Much more myself, I understand.
poem by Greg Costello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Avalanche-the White Death
The land is white
The name of the land brings you
to the land of nothing
The name is white
The white is dead
Sun shines pale, the land shades full of pain
Avalea doesn't bloom and fall in this drain
I'm going back alive again
But no one's crying for the dead
The land is still white
Ice and snow are still the same as yesterday
But the wind is stronger in the sorrow
The land is white
The white is dead
They weep wherever they blow
Forever love, cursed land
Forever goodbye, my lovely land
No more tears falling in this land
Even the sand doesn't know
why he doesn't round to anywhere
The land has frozen like stone
The air is blowed dead
The land is white
The name is white
The land called white is dead
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only Worse
On one hand I count the reasons I could stay with you
And hold you close to me, all night long.
So many lover's games I could play with you
and on that hand I see no reason why it's wrong
Chorus:
But on the other hand, There's a golden band
To remind of someone who would not understand
On one hand I could stay and be your loving man
But the reason I must go is on the other hand
In your arms I feel the passion, I thought had died
When I looked into your eyes
I found myself
When I first kissed your lips I felt so alive
I've got to hand it to you girl, you're something else
Repeat Chorus
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On The Other Hand
On one hand I count the reasons I could stay with you
And hold you close to me, all night long.
So many lover's games I could play with you
and on that hand I see no reason why it's wrong
Chorus:
But on the other hand, There's a golden band
To remind of someone who would not understand
On one hand I could stay and be your loving man
But the reason I must go is on the other hand
In your arms I feel the passion, I thought had died
When I looked into your eyes I found myself
When I first kissed your lips I felt so alive
I've got to hand it to you girl, you're something else
Repeat Chorus
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Star's Destiny
Star's Destiny
Misty night black white cats outside
Hazy on a dead chimney
Dead stove only smokes rising
Hazy singing stars songs
His eyes snowing
Bright small beautiful I am
All wants be like me
Alone alone only darkness inside
Far far from all
Lights only at night
Comes as dreams
Never ever at day
Because love works
In dreams and night's silence
Morning to see
But not stars
Anyhow stars fall in love
With Earth
Whatever the destiny be
poem by Parwin Jadan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wild Billys Circus Story
The machinist climbs his ferris wheel like a brave and the fire-eaters lyin in a pool of sweat victim of the heatwave,
Behind the tent the hired hand tightens his legs on the sword swallowers blade,
Circus towns on the shortwave
Well the runway lies ahead like a great false dawn,
Fat lady, big mama, missy bimbo sits in her chair and yawns,
And the man-beast lies in his cage sniffin popcorn and the midget licks his fingers and suffers missy bimbos scorn
Circus towns been born.
And a press roll drummer go, ballerina to-and-fro cartwheelin up on that tightrope,
With a cannon blast, lightin flash, movin fast through the tent, mars bent,
Hes gonna miss his fall, oh God save the human cannonball.
And the flying zambinis watch marguarita do her neck twist,
And the ringmaster gets the crowd to count along: 95, 96, 97.
A ragged suitcase in his hand, he steals silently away from the circus grounds,
And the highways haunted by the carnival sounds
They dance like a great greasepaint ghost on the wind,
A man in baggy pants, a lonely face, a crazy grin, runnin home to some small ohio town
Jesus, send some sweet women to save all your clowns
And circus boy dances like a monkey on barbed wire, and the barker romances with a junkie, shes got a flat tire,
And now the elephants dance real funky and the band plays like a jungle fire,
Circus towns on the live wire.
And the strong man sampson lifts the midget, little tiny tim, up on his shoulders, way up, and carries him on down the midway past the kids, past the sailors, to his dimly lit trailer,
And the ferris wheel turns and turns like it aint ever gonna stop,
And the circus boss leans over and whispers into the little boys ear, hey son you want to try the big top?
All aboard, nebraskas our next stop.
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Waltz Into Mischief
The latest and greatest
Amazing arrival
No conscience no shame
For the game of survival
Theives and villians
And fraudulent swindlers
Gathered in tribute
With masks of respect
A big hand hooray
Oh come all ye trustful
Let the band play
A waltz into mischief
The chairman is speaking
Instructs the apprentice
All faces are turned
To the wizard of sentence
Years of experience
Fall from his tongue
Like teardops to puddles
They ripple among
A big hand hooray
Oh come all ye trustful
Let the band play
A waltz into mischief
This king of the cowboys
Holds fast his deception
Rides their misgivings
To rapturous reception
Calls on the crowd
Of white pointed heads
To check under carpets
(while were in our beds? )
A big hand hooray
Oh come all ye trustful
Let the band play
A waltz into mischief
A big hand hooray
Oh come all ye trustful
Let the band play
A waltz into mischief
A big hand hooray
Oh come all ye trustful
Let the band play
A waltz into mischief
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Gratitude To My Destiny
had always toyed with
this idea we call destiny
is it some pre-programmed stuff?
is it scripted by me?
i could never decide
whenever i felt myself
an agent of some force
i became a mere toy
in the hands of destiny that
turned me into a spectator and
whenever the agent took back seat
i became the proud architect
of my destiny struttering around in glory
but
...still at times
when i no longer had
the nerve to take
just another wink
i wondered what it would be
if you were with me
and it's at these moments
i clearly see the invisible hand of
destiny waving her hand in victory
and giving me a wry smile at
my utter helplessness
this is how destiny
has charted its course
for me in this life...
is what i would tell myself
unwillingly, though...
no longer in youthful arrogance
i now see
what i'm is
what my destiny
doled out to me
in all its benevolence...
27sep2009
11.18hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Happy Anniversary!
H Here’s to 35 years spanned,
A A lifetime of great memories,
P Preordained by Divine hand,
P Partners always, you and me.
Y Years 35 have quickly flown,
A Anniversary 36 soon to be,
N Nearer, O how we’ve grown,
N Never apart, our destiny.
I Intimacy still thrills, though
V Very different, you and me,
E Entwining yet as one will,
R Rich in joy and unity.
S Sharing all things together,
A Anxious more time to see,
R Ready more to discover,
Y Year 36, just you and me.
To my one true love,
Happy Anniversary!
poem by Loyd C. Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Other Hand...
the black man's hand,
the poor man's hand.
the Muslim hand, the Jewish hand...
the gay man's hand,
the working man's hand,
the ex-convict's hand,
the farmer's hand, the garbage man's hand...
the Christian's hand, the atheist's hand,
the father's hand, the soldier's hand,
the peacemaker's hand,
the healer's hand, the teacher's hand,
the prodigal's hand, even the murderer's hand...
the victim's hand, the broken hand,
the praying hand, the touching hand...
all, when extended,
feel like my other hand!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fire On the Ridge
In the west there is fearsome fire in the hills.
Full of dread, the people watch as flames burn upon the ridge.
Fierce winds fan the fury where the fires singe.
Meanwhile there’s hot air blasting forth from high upon the hill,
Pointless wind aimed at stirring some futile acts of men.
Strong winds fan the flames.
Embers ignite the blaze again.
While homes are lost across the land,
A burning night gives way to the dawn of restless men.
Rhetoric fails to charm while flames move across the land.
Fires burn readily across dry mountaintops.
Drought’s danger seeps down the slopes.
Now the valley too is brown and the pastures parched.
Wherever stray embers fall, fires will catch and burn
Until nowhere can they be stopped.
Will anything escape the flames fanned by these raging relentless winds?
The firemen grow weary,
They know neither sleep nor rest.
All their wisdom and efforts fail to meet the fires growing test.
They seek the help of younger men to aid them in the night,
But none can hear or heed the call; they are ensnared in some other fight.
The chief in command stands out of touch safe on the distant hill.
Insulated from the desperate fight, no fires will he end.
People in the valley see him perched emotionless and still.
If he even has a plan from this distance they can’t tell.
They fear for the safety of those who fight and for their own as well.
They fear the loss of all they love and treasure beyond price.
The fields once waved golden and valleys were lush with finest fruits.
The harvest, which they toiled toward, is in peril of being lost.
Will fires claim the victory and devour all they cherish?
Or will they rise against the blaze, fighting fire with fire, before they perish?
Through night a western ridge stays lit, while across this land no one dare now rest.
poem by Mary Havran
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Gratitude to My Destiny
had always toyed with
this idea we call destiny
is it some pre-programmed stuff?
is it scripted by me?
i could never decide
whenever i felt myself
an agent of some force
i became a mere toy
in the hands of destiny that
turned me into a mere spectator and
whenever the agent took back seat
i became a proud architect
of my destiny struttering around in glory
but
...still at times
when i no longer have
the nerve to take
just another wink
i wonder what it would be
if you were with me
and at times as these
i see the invisible hand of destiny
waving her hand in victory and
giving me a wry smile at
my utter helplessness
this is how destiny
has charted its course
for me in this life...
is what i tell myself unwillingly, though...
no longer in youthful arrogance
i now see
what i'm is
what my destiny
doled out to me
in all its benevolence.
poem by Redscar McOdindo K'Oyuga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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