William Butler Yeats

The Choice

The intellect of man is forced to choose
perfection of the life, or of the work,
And if it take the second must refuse
A heavenly mansion, raging in the dark.
When all that story's finished, what's the news?
In luck or out the toil has left its mark:
That old perplexity an empty purse,
Or the day's vanity, the night's remorse.

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Celebrate The News

Hello
My luck was so bad
I thought I used up all the luck I had
Everytime I thought I'd get it on
Someone put me on
There's been a change
Beautiful and strange
My life's gone through a change
Somehow I know (somehow I know)
Bad luck's in the past
All good things here at last
So now we'll grow
There's been a change
Mmmmm
Bad luck (no more)
No bad luck (no more)
No bad luck (no more)
No bad luck (no more)
I got news for you
There ain't no blues
I got news for you
No bad luck (no more)
No bad luck (no more)
No bad luck (no more)
I got news for you
There ain't no blues
I got news for you
No bad luck (no more)
No bad luck (no more)
No bad luck (no more)
I got news for you
There ain't no blues
I got news for you
No bad luck (no more)
No bad luck (no more)
Listen to the boys loud and clear
Come on folks withstand you fears
Sail away the choice is yours you choose
Celebrate the news
There ain't no blues
Come on, come on, come on

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Work!

Work or no luck
If you don't have work
You get killed sitting still
Work or no luck
If you have too much work
You get killed struggling still
Work or no luck
If you finish fast
You get killed killing time
Work or no luck
If you don't finish on time
You get finished on time
Work or no luck
If you do well
You get recognized well
Work or no luck
If you do not do well
You get the pink paper wall
Work or no luck
If you are organized
You finish it on time
Work or no luck
If you are disorganized
You get finished on time
Work or no luck
If you are interested
Toughest becomes easy
Work or no luck
If you are not interested
Easiest thing becomes toughest
Work or no luck
If you are carving
You keep doing it great
Work or no luck
If you are not carving
You keep doing it a trait
Work or no luck
If you have work
You have luck
Work or no luck
If you have work
Still nothing to do
You have no luck
That's the fate of
Work or luck! ! ! !

poem by Umasree RaghunathReport problemRelated quotes
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The Dead Dont Cry

the dead dont cry,
they weep...
for the undone deeds
of the living...
for the work not finished,
the cup left half-empty,
the song that no one heard.

for the deaf ears,
and the blinded eyes.
for the callous heart,
the spirit left in chains.

for the house half finished,
and the home abandoned.
for the love left holding
the purse, and the scar!

for the holy child
born out of wedlock...
for the table left empty,
the chairs that long and pine.

for the touch that failed,
the quivering lip unseen.
for the pot left empty,
and the fire untended.

for the bodies walking
who have no face...
for the latched door,
and the candle unlit...

the dead dont cry,
they weep...
and the sound of their weeping
shakes the earth!

poem by Eric CockrellReport problemRelated quotes
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Bwtween two

forced to choose between the two,
forced to choose between honesty and dispair,
forced to choose between beauty and destruction,
forced to choose between life and death,
forced to choose between 3 years and 5 years,
forced to choose between who i am friends with,
and still with the choice of both i loose one.

poem by Matthew BoisjolieReport problemRelated quotes
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I Refuse

Everythings heaven sent
Thats what you said and went
Inside your fairy glass
Somethin you think will last
And when they crop you like a clown
You got your smile on upside down
B-baby I refuse
(I do refuse)
Uh, you can pick or choose
(I do refuse)
Find omebody else to use
(I do refuse)
cause I refuse to come along
And everythings on a whim
Thats what you said to him
Lyin in wunderlust
Are feelings you never trust
And when they pamper you with ice
I cant believe you dont think twice
Uh baby I refuse
(I do refuse)
Uh, you can pick or choose
(I do refuse)
Find somebody else to use
(I do refuse)
cause I refuse to come along
And everyone makes the play
With nothing left much to say
Theyre all in an endless line
Waiting for equal time
They keep screaming its the truth
And you keep kneelin in the booth
Oh baby I refuse
(I do refuse)
Uh, you can pick or choose
(I do refuse)
Find somebody else to use
(I do refuse)
cause I refuse to come along
Oh, I do refuse
(I do refuse)
Oh, you got nothin to lose
(I do refuse)
Find somebody else to use
(find somebody else to use)
(I do refuse)
cause I refuse to come along
I refuse
(I do refuse)
Ah, oo-oo
(I do refuse)
(find somebody else to use)
(I do refuse)
cause I refuse to come along
I refuse
(I do refuse)
Oo, oh got nothin to lose
(I do refuse)
(find somebody else to use)
(I do refuse)
[fade]

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The Night Will Soon Be Lost

THE NIGHT WILL SOON BE LOST

The night will soon be lost
Another night of so many already gone
Who knows how many left?
I have seen far more nights
Than I will ever see again
Mostly it’s done
I have some nights left
But not so many
That I should waste it wholly
On frivolity
I’ll try now
To write a poem down
So this night
Will not have been wholly in vain
But who knows
Vanity of vanity of vanity
Perhaps for all nights and all poems- vanity
I am writing this poem down nonetheless
It flows as if it knows it has real life within it
I don’t know now how long this night will last
Or how many nights I have left
I have written a poem
Will G-d save it as if it were not vanity to vanity?
I do not know.

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Oh Vanity

Oh vanity oh vanity
You only like to read
About beauty

Little about pain
Or hateful disdain
Am I so vain

Am I so shallow
To refuse a
Dark place to go

I'll lend a hand
To those in need
I'll give my love

While looking up
Is this not positivity
Not vanity

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Hard Luck Story

Dont ask me to love my neighbour
Cause I dont love the man
Dont ask me for my favours
I wont lend a hand
And if I had real power
Then I could disappear
Wouldnt have to be around you
Id sink into the atmosphere
Then I wouldnt hear
Your hard luck story
Its a hard luck, a hard luck story
Dont ask me to tip the waiter
For he is underhand
I can tell he is a woman hater
And he is a nasty man
Within reach lies all desire
For each and every soul
Stripped bare and stretching higher
You fall into the last balck hole
To end your hard
Hard luck story
Its a hard luck
Hard luck story
Dont ask me to pray to jesus
Ive never met the man
I only meet weekend preachers
Pictures of the promised land
All the new holy saviours
Who pretend to understand
Who do you think will save you
Modern day beggar man
Such a hard luck
Hard luck story
Its a hard luck
Hard luck story
Its such a hard
Hard luck story
Its a hard luck
Hard luck story
Dont ask me to love my neighbour
Dont ask me to tip the waiter
Dont ask me to pray to jesus
He picked his time to leave us
Its a hard luck
Hard luck story
Its a hard luck
Hard luck story
Its a hard luck story
Hard luck story

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Perfection

Perfection is a life-time work,
We try attaining through sheer toil,
And hardly see the peak at all,
But keep sliding down, even fall!

Perfection is akin mirage,
That dupes our senses and our mind,
And drives us crazy, crestfallen,
Like horizon that stays untrue!

Perfection is subjective then,
And differs from issues, moments,
Making man give up halfway through,
And leaving him imperfect still!

Perfection is a ghost-like goal,
That hardly can be half-attained,
Despite our best perseverance,
Defeating us well in the end!

poem by John CelesReport problemRelated quotes
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Dark Southern Skies

faded sign falling down
from an abandoned mill
mailboxes full of
unopened bills
houses with no curtains
old cars up on blocks
all the stores are empty
all the doors are locked

dark southern skies
no one's home anymore
no one hears the cry
no one sweeps the floor
man without work
his woman turns away
dark southern skies
and there's no one left to pray...

empty crib gathers dust
a Bible by the bed
workboots in the corner
with this ring i thee wed
pictures on the wall
dont answer in the night
and empty still looks empty
in the morning light

dark southern skies
no one's home anymore
no one hears the cry
no one sweeps the floor
man without work
his woman turns away
dark southern skies
there's no one left to pray....

poem by Eric CockrellReport problemRelated quotes
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Playboy Mansion

If Coke is a mystery, Michael Jackson History
If beauty is truth, and surgery the fountain of youth
What am I to do?
Have I got the gift to get me through
The gates of that Mansion
If OJ is more than a drink, a Big Mac bigger than you think
If perfume is an Obsession, then talk shows confession
What have we got to lose?
I'll never push my way through
The gates of that mansion
I never bought a Lotto ticket
I never parked in anyone's space
And the banks feel like cathedrals because casinos took their place
Luck, come on down
I wake up, she'll come around
Sex is a kind of religion
We're down for playin' hard luck
I never did see that movie, and I never did read that book
Luck, come on down, let my numbers come around
Don't know if I can hold on
Don't know if I'm that strong
Don't know if I can wait that long
Til the colors come flashing and the lights go on
Then will there be no time for sorrow
Then will there be no time for shame
And though I can't say why
I know I've got to believe
We'll go diving in their pool
It's who you know that gets you through
The gates in the Playboy Mansion
The Playboy Mansion
In the Playboy Mansion
Then will there be no time for sorrow?
Then will there be no time for shame?

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An empty purse, and a finished house, make a man wise, but too late.

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Refuse!

i refuse
to accept the lie
anymore!

i know, beyond a doubt,
that all people are equal,
regardless of color, gender,

religion, financial status, or
political beliefs!
i refuse to believe

that i am all right,
when someone else
is hungry, homeless, or hurting.

i refuse to believe
that i am not responsible,
for i am most responsible

when i turn away!
i refuse to believe
that one person's success

can come at the expense of another!
i refuse to settle!
i choose life, and life means living...

involved!

poem by Eric CockrellReport problemRelated quotes
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Hard Luck

I left the course, and by my side
There walked a ruined tout --
A hungry creature, evil-eyed,
Who poured this story out.
"You see," he said, "there came a swell
To Kensington today,
And, if I picked the winners well,
A crown at least he's pay.

"I picked three winners straight, I did;
I filled his purse with pelf,
And then he gave me half-a-quid
To back one for myself.

"A half-a-quid to me he cast --
I wanted it indeed;
So help me Bob, for two days past
I haven't had a feed.

"But still I thought my luck was in,
I couldn't go astray --
I put it all on Little Min,
And lost it straightaway.

"I haven't got a bite or bed,
I'm absolutely stuck;
So keep this lesson in your head:
Don't over-trust your luck!"

The folks went homeward, near and far,
The tout, oh! where is he?
Ask where the empty boilers are
Beside the Circular Quay.

poem by Andrew Barton PatersonReport problemRelated quotes
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Anti-rule

We
are very
proud of our
reason and logic
but the crux of the
matter is that in fact
there are no such things!
Wisdom is our capital but
it can not run the business
of the baffling life, ever fast
changing historical knowledge
is our power but can not drive the
vehicle unknown which moving fast,
randomly, there is no static truth or the
truth straight but the biggest truth is that
there is no such truth, random changing
is the only rule but more puzzling are
the things when plays havoc the
anti-rules, riddle multiplies
in more complex riddles,
system breaks down
into miracles and
crushing your
vanity of
super intellect, no options are left to you
rather than to bow and awe! The more you
go deep the more you find deeper darkness
bewilderment is the only super king in the
kingdom of perplexity but the happy thing is
that contradiction of life is in full agreement
to disagree amicably till man gets any clue, I
hope we can, no matter whether it's me or you.

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Perfection

Your cold and poor-spirited love
Was like running water upon my hands...
I did for your love, all that I could....
As an imperfect man that I am...
I offered you just possible things...
Warmth when you were cold,
And consolation when you felt hopeless...
You search for perfection
Which you will never find...
Perfect is the rain that falls
In the spring time...
Perfect are the flowers that grow
in a real garden of love....
Perfect is the smile in a child
Who plays with toys...
Perfection is a man
Who had it all
And now is getting tired and old...
Perfection are the memories
In your heart and mind...
Perfection is something
You shall never find
On me or any other man
Since perfection is just
In your dreams and imagination...
Now perfection becomes
Just like a story untold....
How sad it is
That my love you can no longer have
Neither my hands again hold...
o! Woman, wish you good luck
In your new try...


COPY WRITE©2009

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Death of Dusk

The sun resigns,
bleeds out the vestiges –
remnants of the day.

Exsanguination edges into twilight:
red-brown hangs;
upwards darkens:
blue-brown,
blue-black,
death-black,
disquiet – furtive,
like ghoul-ridden fog.

A sombre moon assumes its role,
gushing silver-white lymph upon the muted scape –
a prequel of supernatural undertones
to chill the scene,
ice the spine,
kill the brain –

we have unnerved the very firmament.

But now a shadow closing down the globe:
dinosaurian cloud shrouds the moon glaze,
claims the late hour –
declared in a dying crow caw.


I, the hidden owl
– nemesis of claustrophobic minds –
awake! for mammal flesh –
fresh, jerking out its warmth in dance of death.
Rock-still I perch in sculptured oneness
with my crooked night-tree,
emanating nocturnal allure.

Together we scowl
together we play the dark
upon the land and sky
and mind

while you lie as dead in your box.


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010



dark dark dark dark night dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night dark dark
dark dark dark dark night dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night dark dark
dark dark dark dark night
dark dark dark dark night dark dark dark dark night

poem by Mark R SlaughterReport problemRelated quotes
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Sunday morning

Through a
filth-laden
plate glass
window,
I saw
her standing.
Wearing her
Sunday best.

Her thick black
hands hung down
in front of her
meaty thighs,
each grasping
on to her purse strap.
Patiently waiting
for the bus.

Shining off
of her
ample face,
a sun which
suggested
faith's glowing
promise
in the afterlife.

A beautiful,
too perfect,
blue-skied
Sunday morning,
contrasted the
depressed ghetto
surroundings
and the stench
of the
laundromat
I was cleaning.

Suddenly,
a knife
plunged
in to the side
of her head,
just below her bonnet.
Her thick right hand
covered the wound,
as her left refused
to surrender her purse.


She screamed
and cursed at
her assailant
as he ran off,
empty handed.

Wailing uncontrollably,
her hysterics equaled
the brutal attack
she had endured

Blood continued
to run
down her face,
between her
fingers and
onto her dress.

Her purse was saved.

Her life spared from
the vicious attack.

To the assailant,
the contents of
her purse meant
more than her life.

The ambulance
came soon-after.

She lived.

I wasn't
the only
witness
that morning.
God was
watching too.

She lived.

And her after-life
didn't occur
on that
fate-filled
Sunday morning.

I finished my
bologna sandwich,
sipped my Pepsi...
and went back to
sweeping the floors.


by
Tim Labbe`

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What’s Luck?

Luck is something that comes, not so often;
Luck is an occurrence in life, quite rare;
Luck’s unpredictable phenomenon;
Luck is a devil that is rarely kind!

Luck’s the last thing one should ev’r depend on;
Luck cannot simply come to all always;
Luck can’t work magic without labor hard;
Luck is futile if basic things aren’t done.

Luck is a make-up that needs a good face;
Luck’s a pretty dame with contours and shape;
Luck is an element of great surprise;
Luck is not the usual way, world goes by!

Luck is the decoration on a cake;
Luck’s a factor that clicks for some at times;
Luck isn’t the first thing, we trust any time;
Perseverance is key to success prime.

Copyright by Dr John Celes 11-23-2009

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Mighty Wings

By Harold Faltermeyer, Mark Spiro
It's just a ball of dust
Underneath my feet
It rolls around the sun
Doesn't mean that much to me
I take a chance on the edge of life
Just like all the rest
I look inside and dig it out
Cause there's no points for second best
There's a raging fire in my heart tonight
Growing higher and higher in my soul
There's a raging fire in the sky tonight
I want to ride on the silver dove
Far into the night
(Chorus)
Till I make you take me
On your mighty wings
Make you take me
On your mighty wings across the sky
Take me on your mighty wings
Take me on your mighty wings tonight
With just a little luck
A little cold blue steel
I cut the night like a razor blade
Till I feel the way I want to feel
There's a raging fire in my heart tonight
Growing higher and higher in my soul
There's a raging fire in the sky tonight
I want to ride on the silver dove
Far into the night
(Chorus)
Till I make you take me
On your mighty wings
Make you take me
On your mighty wings across the sky
Take me on your mighty wings
Take me on your mighty wings tonight
Take me on your mighty wings
Take me on your mighty wings

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