The Night awaits the Dawn
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.
poem by Terry O'Leary
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
I Know What Boys Like
Boys, boys
He you wanna know something?
Boys, boys
Boys like girls
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
I've got what boys want
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I seem them looking (looking)
I make them want me
I like to tease them
And they want to touch me
I never let them
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
Boys like, boys like me
I got my cat moves
That so upsets them
Zippers and buttons
Fun to frustrate them
They get so angry
Like pouty children
Denied their candy
I laugh right at them
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
I've got what boys want
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh
I know what boys like
I got what boys want
I know what boys like
Boys like, boys like, boys like me
I think you're special
I might let you
You're so much different
I might let you
There's no one like you
I might let you
Or would you like that?
I might let you
Sucker!
Boys, b-b-boys
Boys, b-b-b-boys
G-g-g-g-got what boys want
G-g-g-got
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
I've got what boys want
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh
I know what boys like
I got what boys want
I know what boys like
Boys like, boys like, boys like me
I know what boys like
I got what boys want
I know what boys like
Boys like, boys like, boys like me
Yeah, I know what boys like
Come on girls, you know what they like
It ain't no secret
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
I've got what boys want
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh
song performed by by Vitamin C
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Night Talk
Boys watch from windows tonight
Im not surpriesed to see you waiting here
You keep them in business just supplying you
Get in the car Ive something to say
Stay in bed why waste my time
Open your eyes but only if you can
Office in a sidestreet is no place for you
Night talk and romance like beat the clock.
Boys like me arent supposed to cry
But its so easy to do
Boys like me arent supposed to cry
But just look at you
Night talk.
Take things slow you can crack
Like your face I dont understand
How you smile and pretend its fun
Do you laugh when the rats come round to play?
Boys like me arent supposed to cry
But its so easy to do
Boys like me arent supposed to cry
But just look at you
Night talk.
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To a social recluse
He has been all by himself
She has been all by herself
Desperate, alone, miserable and insecure
Both thought that love would be their only cure
To a social recluse
The word ‘socialising’
Is hardly ever ‘tantalising’
In their world to use
Each night, each day she is amused
By this so called man born a social recluse
Her arms are now tattooed with isolation
Washed and shampooed in entire alienation
Once she was bright-eyed in a healthy situation
To a social recluse
The emotional mood
Is that which airs off as being rude!
And shyness is always seen as an excuse
In her search for love has come desperation
And his charms will lead her to a land of no nations
There are always signs but she refuses to take heed
So she will harvest with weed to feed her own needs
And one day she will cry the tears of her own deed
To a social recluse
With lack of interest, quietness is introduced
With friends and family you instantly lose
That is the very effect a recluse produces
To a social recluse
This dark conspicuous personality
Will creep slowly and tear apart friendly cordial unity
Your families and friends will slowly become diffused
Presently she is too blind to see
Her loving hero is a lone ranger
Slowly she will become everything but free
And to herself she will turn a total stranger
Copyright 2009 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Strange Charm
I dont know
I dont know
The dream was everything
I dont know
I dont know
If its all falling down.
I lose connection as they let me down
What you gonna think?
What you gonna do?
What you gonna say?
Are you gonna scream oh no?
What you gonna think?
What you gonna do?
What you gonna say?
I just dont like this thing, at all.
(strange charm)
Let the boys out
Let the boys out
And let the fun begin
Let the boys out
Let the boys out
And let the night come in.
We dont like it
We dont like it
Were from the factory and weve come to play.
Let the boys out.
You push too hard
You push too hard
Come closer and talk to me
You push too hard
You push too hard
Dyou get the picture now?
You wont like it
You wont like it
We get impatient as the time runs out.
Let the boys out.
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Boys Will Be Boys
Ooh (2x)
Boys will be boys (2x)
You've got something
So incredible in my eyes
My heart starts pumpin
Whenever you're around
My whole world's upside down
Baby
But I try to get closer
And you always push me away
You tell me it's much too soon
But I just can't help it
I always gotta make a play
Chorus:
Ooh (2x)
Boys will be boys
(Hey)
Ooh (2x)
Baby
Boys will be boys
All my senses
Go right into overdrive
Ooh my defenses
Are never gonna hold
Always gotta lose control
An I hear you sayin
That you think we should wait
And I can't hold on anymore
My body's callin for you
So please don't hesitate
Ooh (2x)
Boys will be boys
You outta know by now baby
Ooh (2x)
Boys will be boys (2x)
I gotta do what I gotta do baby
Naaa
song performed by by Backstreet Boys from Backstreet Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tommy's Dead
YOU may give over plough, boys,
You may take the gear to the stead,
All the sweat o' your brow, boys,
Will never get beer and bread.
The seed's waste, I know, boys,
There's not a blade will grow, boys,
'Tis cropped out, I trow, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
Send the colt to fair, boys,
He's going blind, as I said,
My old eyes can't bear, boys,
To see him in the shed;
The cow's dry and spare, boys,
She's neither here nor there, boys,
I doubt she's badly bread;
Stop the mill to-morn, boys,
There'll be no more corn, boys,
Neither white nor red;
There's no sign of grass, boys,
You may sell the goat and the ass, boys,
The land's not what it was, boys,
And the beasts must be fed:
You may turn Peg away, boys,
You may pay off old Ned,
We've had a dull day, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
Move my chair on the floor, boys,
Let me turn my head:
She's standing there in the door, boys,
Your sister Winifred!
Take her away from me, boys,
Your sister Winifred!
Move me round in my place, boys,
Let me turn my head,
Take her away from me, boys,
As she lay on here death-bed,
The bones of her thin face, boys,
As she lay on her death-bed!
I don't know how it be, boys,
When all's done and said,
But I see her looking at me, boys,
Whenever I turn my head;
Out of the big oak tree, boys,
Out of the garden-bed,
And the lily as pale as she, boys,
And the rose that used to be red.
There's something not right, boys,
But I think it's not in my head,
I've kept my precious sight, boys, --
The Lord be hallowéd!
Outside and in
The ground is cold to my tread,
The hills are wizen and thin,
The sky is shrivelled and shred,
The hedges down by the loan
I can count them bone by bone,
The leaves are open and spread,
But I see the teeth of the land,
And hands like a dead man's hand,
And the eyes of a dead man's head.
There's nothing but cinders and sand,
The rat and the mouse have fed,
And the summer's empty and cold;
Over valley and wold
Wherever I turn my head
There's a mildew and a mould,
The sun's going out overhead,
And I'm very old,
And Tommy's dead.
What am I staying for, boys,
You're all born and bred,
'Tis fifty years and more, boys,
Since wife and I were wed,
And she'd gone before, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
She was always sweet, boys,
Upon his curly head,
She knew she'd never see't, boys,
And she stole off to bed;
I've been siting up alone, boys,
For he'd come home, he said,
But it's time I was gone boys,
For Tommy's dead.
Put the shutters up, boys,
Bring out the beer and bread,
Make haste and sup, boys,
For my eyes are heavy as lead:
There's something wrong i' the cup, boys,
There's something ill wi' the bread,
I don't care to sup, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
I'm not right, I doubt, boys,
I've such a sleepy head,
I shall nevermore be stout, boys,
You may carry me to bed.
What are you about, boys?
The prayers are all said,
The fire's raked out, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
The stairs are too steep, boys,
You may carry me to the head,
The night's dark and deep, boys,
Your mother's long in bed,
'Tis time to go to sleep, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
I'm not used to a kiss, boys,
You may shake my hand instead.
All things go amiss, boys,
You may lay me where she is, boys,
And I'll rest my old head:
'Tis a poor world, this, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life In The West.
Ho! brothers--come hither and list to my story--
Merry and brief will the narrative be.
Here, like a monarch, I reign in my glory--
Master am I, boys, of all that I see!
Where once frowned a forest, a garden is smiling--
The meadow and moorland are marshes no more;
And there curls the smoke of my cottage, beguiling
The children who cluster like grapes round my door.
Then enter, boys; cheerly, boys, enter and rest;
The land of the heart is the land of the West!
Oho, boys!--oho, boys!--oho!
Talk not of the town, boys--give me the broad prairie,
Where man, like the wind, roams impulsive and free:
Behold how its beautiful colors all vary,
Like those of the clouds, or the deep-rolling sea!
A life in the woods, boys, is even as changing;
With proud independence we season our cheer,
And those who the world are for happiness ranging,
Won't find it at all if they don't find it here.
Then enter, boys; cheerly, boys, enter and rest!
I'll show you the life, boys, we live in the West!
Oho, boys!--oho, boys!--oho!
Here, brothers, secure from all turmoil and danger,
We reap what we sow, for the soil is our own;
We spread hospitality's board for the stranger,
And care not a jot for the king on his throne.
We never know want, for we live by our labor,
And in it contentment and happiness find;
We do what we can for a friend or a neighbor,
And die, boys, in peace and good-will to mankind.
Then enter, boys; cheerly, boys, enter and rest;
You know how we live, boys, and die in the West!
Oho, boys!--oho, boys!--oho!
poem by George Pope Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Editions Of You
Well I'm here looking thru' an old picture frame
Just waiting for the perfect view
I hope something special will step into my life
Another fine edition of you
A pin up done in shades of blue
Some don't play yourself for a fool
Too much cheesecake too soon
And don't let this happen to you
Sometimes you find you're yearning for the quiet life
The country air and all of its joys
But badgers couldn't compensate at twice the price
For just another night with the boys
And boys will be boys will be boys
They say love's a gamble hard to win easy to lose
And while sun shines you'd better make hay
So if life is your table and fate is the wheel
Then let the chips fall where they may
In modern times the modern way
And as I was drifting past the lorelei
I heard those slinky sirens wail (ooo)
So look out sailor when you hear them croon
You'll never be the same again oh no
Their crazy music drives you insane this way
So love me leave me do what you will
... who knows what tomorrow might bring
Learn from your mistakes is my only advice
And stay cool is the main rule
Don't play yourself for a fool
Too much cheesecake too soon
Old money's better than new
No mention in the latest tribune
And don't let this happen to you
song performed by by Men Without Hats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wild Boys
Wild boys, wild boys, wild boys
Wild boys
Wild! (wild)
Boys! (boys)
The wild boys are calling on their way back from the fire
In august moons surrender to a dust cloud on the rise
Wild boys fallen far from glory, reckless and so hungered
On the razors edge you trail because theres murder (murder)
By the roadside in a sore afraid new world
They tried to break us, looks like theyll try again
Wild boys.. never lose it
Wild boys.. never chose this way
Wild boys.. never close your eyes
Wild boys.. always shine
You got sirens for a welcome, theres bloodstain for your pain
And your telephone been ringing while youre dancing in the rain
Wild boys wonder where is glory where is all you angels
Now the figureheads have fell?
And lovers war with arrows over secrets they could tell
They tried to tame you, looks like theyll try again
(chorus)
-
(chorus) (chorus) (chorus)
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Song Of Faries
Flitter flutter here and there
Flying high up in the air
Fairy dust is just so fragile
And the fairies flying are all so agile
And sparkles in the sun
Oh looking for fairies is so much fun
Under some rocks or under a pot
Flying around a twisted vine knot
Under the tree is where the fun begins
all of our faces bearing grins
That’s me and my fairy friends
They lead me to the river they lead me to its spring
The lead to their castle to see the fairy king
Its pearly white with lots of land
Wow this place is very grand
I hop inside to take a peek
Me and the fairies play hide and seek
That night I share a bedroom with a little girl called sky
I like her lots ‘cause she’s my friend even if she’s shy
The sun shines through my window bright as bright can be
I hop out of bed with a big sigh of glee
Because today’s the day when I go home
To where I live back in Italy, Rome
I wave goodbye to my fairy friends
And tie together all loose ends
So goodbye fairies I’ll visit you soon
In the dead of night under the misty moon
Chloe White, age 13
poem by Chloe White
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Living A Boys Adventure Tale
(pal waaktaar/morten harket)
Ive fixed my dwelling for the night
Lights in pairs come passing by
Where I hide
I need some time now on my own
Leave my loneliness alone
To lick my wounds
Night has found me just in time
To help me close my eyes
One more time
Living a boys adventure tale
In so many ways
Living a boys adventure tale
For so many days
Im living a boys adventure tale
Cant escape, if I wanted to
Living a boys adventure tale
I may be dreaming but I feel awake
Ive been lost in so many places
Seeked love in so many faces
A change of weather,
The rain pours down
My head in hands,
Pressed to the ground
And where am I supposed to go now
Living a boys adventure tale
In so many ways
Living a boys adventure tale (aah)
Living a boys adventure tale
A voice I hear
Living a boys adventure tale
Singing a lullaby for me
Living a boys adventure tale
Because of you
Living a boys adventure
Oh you know its true
Living a boys adventure tale
In so many ways (aah)
For so many days
I love you. I love you
So many ways
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Women Raising Their Boys
Women raising their boys,
And alone.
Do it with the expectation,
A teaching them to be fathers...
Will be different,
From the ones they've known.
But can a women teach a boy,
To become the best man he can?
And within his mind,
Will that boy comprehend...
What it takes to treat a woman.
With a respectful understanding?
And this to a boy from a woman,
Is taught as a lesson to become understood?
Women raising their boys,
And alone.
Without a father around...
Can be beneficial,
If those lessons are solid and sound.
If women raising their boys,
And alone..
Seek to find more men around to be found,
Will their raising of boys to become men...
And not boys to be fathers,
Develop more men being fathers...
To their fatherless boys
And,
Will someday...
When those boys become men,
Will this make more women proud of them?
Will these boys grow into becoming,
Accountable men?
Understand it takes more,
Than just the act...
Than to produce the fathering of children?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Hidden Sun
In dreams...
eyes Willing
to look upon
the green tattoo
The sun on thy head.
I have named you
with blind faith
my hearts desire.
This sun I seek
Remains hidden
by night's black hair.
Unfortunate my journey...
Unending dream
Waiting
longing...
Just a single gust of wind
come blow thy blacken hair
and show the sun...
Now comes the true sun
and my eyes are open...
And that I greatly desired
One look upon that sun
will be forever hidden
in the clouds of my dreams.
poem by Afzal Shauq from Twist of Fates, translated by Alley Boling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh I Use to Be That Goose to Cook
I use to be that goose to cook.
One taken for granted...
Because I had been out and open.
Making the chase easy to take.
As I healed from a mending...
Comprised of negativity and heartbreak.
And today that I no longer care,
Who is there to play hard to get...
In a game of hide and seek.
My presence is not readily available.
To anyone I thought was there to care.
With a sweeping off my feet in the air.
And this is no longer a challenge sought.
With a hope to make myself easily caught.
A sitting goose or a duck I am not.
Waiting from dawn until dusk to be fawned.
I've moved on to correct those things I felt wrong.
I don't do the snapping,
With the quick quips quacked back.
And if anyone comes believing,
I can be strung along?
I tell them immediately I am booked.
'Oh, I use to be that goose to cook.'
But now I recognize myself to be a swan.
Living on the other side,
Of a more diverse...
And populated pond.
To strut and not waddle as I proceed in song.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Lost Boy's
Urban concrete jungle
In the twilight hours
This is where the lost boys are.
Kaleidoscope eyes,
Discordant vowels
These are the marks the lost boys make.
Electronic beats,
Songs of angst
These are the sounds the lost boys need.
Sad panda eyes,
Downward faces
The war paint of the lost boys.
Drum boogie,
Anti fashion,
This is what the lost boys wear.
Rejected by society,
Reminders of youth since lost
This is who the lost boys are.
Two o'clock shadows
Artificial mist provides cover
As the lost boys slip home.
On the dance floor,
By the bar
This is where the lost boys are.
poem by Amos Greig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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American Boys, Hello!
Oh! we love all the French, and we speak in French
As along through France we go.
But the moments to us that are keen and sweet
Are the ones when our khaki boys we meet,
Stalwart and handsome and trim and neat;
And we call to them-'Boys, hello!'
'Hello, American boys,
Luck to you, and life's best joys!
American boys, hello!'
We couldn't do that if we were at home-
It never would do you know!
For there you must wait till you're told who's who,
And to meet in the way that nice folks do.
Though you knew his name, and your name he knew-
You never would say 'Hello, hello, American boy!'
But here it's just a joy,
As we pass along in the stranger throng,
To call out, 'Boys, hello!'
For each is a brother away from home;
And this we are sure is so,
There's a lonesome spot in his heart somewhere,
And we want him to feel there are friends
right there
In this foreign land, and so we dare
To call out 'Boys, hello!'
'Hello, American boys,
Luck to you, and life's best joys!
American boys, hello!'
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Editions Of You
(ferry)
Well im here looking through an old picture frame
Just waiting for the perfect view
I hope something special will step in to my life
Another fine edition of you
A pin-up done in shades of blue
Sometimes you find a yearning for the quiet life
The country air and all its joys
But badgers couldnt compensate at twice the price
For just another night with the boys oh yeah
And boys will be boys, will be boys
They say loves a gamble, hard to win, easy lose
And while sun shines youd better make hay
So if life is your table and fate is the wheel
Then let the chips fall where they may
In modern times the modern way
And as I was drifting past the lorelei
I heard those slinky sirens wail - whooo
So look out sailor when you hear them croon
Youll never been the same again oh no
Their crazy music drives you insane - this way
So love, leave me. do what you will
-who knows what tomorrow might bring?
Learn from your mistakes is my only advice
And stay cool is still the main rule
Dont play yourself for a fool
Too much cheesecake too soon
Old moneys better than new
No mention in the latest tribune
And dont let this happen to you
song performed by by Roxy Music
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My if world
Escaping to the if world, where everything is possible
Changing my reality and live the impossible
Waving my magic stick so every wish come true
Sprinkling the fairy dust, believing this magic will do
Smelling vanilla scent, I reach imagination land
Here with my illusion beyond what you understand
In if world where puppets come to life
Where nymphs on rivers waiting to take a dive
Through this new frame of vision where everything is bright
I see smiles all around shinning in the light
Through this rose coloured glass lens where everything shines and glows
I see boys and girls waiting thier turns in the long adventure rows
In this blue horizon where all the ground is green
That's only seperated by the quiet water streams
I wave my magic stick and sprinkle the fairy dust
To spread the white hope, , that in here is a must
I wipe away all tears from the crying faces
Healing all the broken promises that were once taken
In the if world, wearing your skin alone makes you complete
Everything in here you own, there is nothing else you need
Where all the boys are kings and all the girls are queens
Wearing purple gowns, daring the time stream
If you ever needed me just call out my name
In imagination land you will find me on a task of building a way
That will connect the fantasy world to reality where you live
Reality that can be changed with the power of the word if
poem by Manar Mostafa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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