In the Workshop
ONCE in the Workshop, ages ago,
The clay was wet and the fire was low.
And He who was bent on fashioning man
Moulded a shape from a clod,
And put the loyal heart therein;
While another stood watching by.
‘What’s that?' said Beelzebub.
‘A lover,’ said God.
And Beelzebub frowned, for he knew that kind.
And then God fashioned a fellow shape
As lithe as a willow rod,
And gave it the merry roving eye
And the range of the open road.
‘What’s that?' said Beelzebub.
‘A vagrant,’ said God.
And Beelzebub smiled, for he knew that kind.
And last of all God fashioned a form,
And gave it, what was odd,
The loyal heart, and the roving eye;
And he whistled, light of care.
‘What’s that?' said Beelzebub.
‘A poet,’ said God.
And Beelzebub frowned, for he did not know.
poem by Bliss Carman
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Related quotes
Mummers play script, for the new year
-Enter father Beelzebub and Jack Vinney.
-Jack Vinney:
Old father Beelzebub my friend,
Will you aid one new to this land?
-Father Beelzebub:
On me you can always depend,
Show the man to my helping hand,
-Enter the Turkish Knight.
-Turkish Knight:
I've travelled far to reach this isle,
Seeking brave St. George to empale,
I have searched now for quite a while,
And it has been to no avail,
-Father Beelzebub:
It is my pleasure to reveal,
St. George shall be coming for tea,
His valour told in tales is real,
Wait a moment and that you'll see,
-Enter St. George.
-St. George:
Just now I met some Turkish men,
In what became a bloody scene,
They shall not bother me again,
I killed them for the king and queen,
-Turkish Knight:
I must know those spoken about,
It offends me St. George should gloat,
He and I shall now have it out,
In vengeance I will slit his throat,
-St. George:
You underestimate me sir,
Few if any to me compare.
You've committed a fatal err,
And for it badly you shall fare,
-Jack Vinney:
The poor Turkish knight met his match,
And has suffered for it as such,
-Enter Molly.
-Molly:
He's the man I'm trying to catch,
He swindled what to me was much,
-St. George:
I doubt you'll see what it is he does owe,
His time is coming to a close,
He was a respectable foe,
But his fate is the one he chose,
-Father Beelzebub:
This man must answer for his crime,
Is there a way to revive him?
-Jack Vinney:
If a doctor got here in time,
His man's end need not be so grim,
-Enter Dr. Good
-Dr. Good:
I shall fix this bloody mishap,
I've knowledge of unequalled scope,
Let me attend to this poor chap,
And for him again there is hope,
-The Turkish Knight is revived.
-Father Beelzebub:
Most noble St. George watch your back,
For I would not trust that Turk,
-St. George is cut down.
-Dr. Good:
He made a cowardly attack,
Now I must again get to work,
-Jack Vinney:
Such cowardice I cannot permit,
I will kill him for what he did,
May he have a restless spirit,
And his afterlife be wretched,
-Jack Vinney stabs the Turk.
-Molly:
Thanks to the wound left by your knife,
Now I cannot question the thief,
-Dr. Good:
I shall bring both men back to life,
As my skill is beyond belief,
-The Turk and St. George are revived.
-Father Beelzebub:
St. George has returned to the living,
The Doctor has righted the wrong,
It's such a miraculous thing,
Let us join together in song,
-Everyone:
All is good and well at long last,
Let's give thanks for being so blessed,
Our troubles are now of the past,
Everything worked out for the best,
Dwelling on the past makes no sense,
Why not give a fresh start a chance,
So now let the good times commence,
And come and join us in a dance.
poem by Christian Lacdael
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song of the Stygian Naiades
Proserpine may pull her flowers,
Wet with dew or wet with tears,
Red with anger, pale with fears;
Is it any fault of ours,
If Pluto be an amorous king
And come home nightly, laden
Under his broad bat-wing
With a gentle earthly maiden?
Is it so, Wind, is it so?
All that I and you do know
Is that we saw fly and fix
'Mongst the flowers and reeds of Styx,
Yesterday,
Where the Furies made their hay
For a bed of tiger cubs,
A great fly of Beelzebub's,
The bee of hearts, which mortals name
Cupid, Love, and Fie for shame.
Proserpine may weep in rage,
But ere I and you have done
Kissing, bathing in the sun,
What I have in yonder cage,
She shall guess and ask in vain,
Bird or serpent, wild or tame;
But if Pluto does 't again,
It shall sing out loud his shame.
What hast caught then? What hast caught?
Nothing but a poet's thought,
Which so light did fall and fix
'Mongst the flowers and reeds of Styx,
Yesterday,
Where the Furies made their hay
For a bed of tiger cubs,
A great fly of Beelzebub's,
The bee of hearts, which mortals name
Cupid, Love, and Fie for shame.
poem by Thomas Lovell Beddoes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Goes God
Whatll I tell him
When he comes to me for absolution
Wouldnt you know it
Hope I dont make a bad decision
cos Id like to believe
That there is a god
Why sinful angels
Suffer for love
Id like to believe
In the terrible truth
In the beautiful lie
Like to know you
But in this town I cant get arrested
If you know me
Why dont you tell me what Im thinking
Hey dont look now
But there goes god
In his sexy pants
And his sausage dog
And he cant stand
Beelzebub
cos he looks so good in black, in black
song performed by by Crowded House
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Flies
Say, sire of insects, mighty Sol,
(A fly upon the chariot-pole
Cries out) What blue-bottle alive
Did ever with such fury drive?
Tell Beelzebub, great Father, tell,
(Says th' other perch'd upon the wheel)
Did ever any mortal fly
Raise such a cloud of dust as I?
My judgement turn'd the whole debate;
My valour sayed the sinking state.
To talk two idle buzzing things,
Toss up their heads, and stretch their wings.
But let the truth to light be brought,
This neither spoke nor th' other fought;
No merit in their own behaviour;
Both raised but by their party's favour.
poem by Matthew Prior
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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R e v e l a t i o n {Alliteration Format}
.....Seven Seals sans silver steeds: Satans surreptition;
.....Beleaguers, bedraggles belates by bilious Beast;
.....Causes caustic carpetbagger cancered catharsis;
.....Hells horned hookworm, hails Heavens Holy heist?
.....Wrong! ...War wages, wending with wretched wrath;
.....Regardless, Revelation rears resolute rapture
.....Battle bleeds Beelzebub black, blue, bare...beaten;
.....Ruefully retreats, realising Resurrections Rules!
.....Contemptuous coward, coo's, capitulates Christ!
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Evil
NOT Beelzebub, but white archangel, I
Turn the dim glass and shift the sands again,
And touch the eyelids of the sons of men
Lest they forget—forget and drowsy lie
In Fate’s unfurrowed fallow till they die—
As seed that quickens not for dawns that leap
From out the dark of immemorial years,
With kiss of wind and sun and wizard tears
Of fugitive clouds to wake them from their sleep.
With milestones I have set the crumbling sod
Of human judgement that they stray not wide,
Nor languish lost in labyrinths alway;
And smile in pity when I hear them pray
That Wrong’s rude whips from them be turned aside,
Who call me Evil—not discerning God.
poem by Marie E J Pitt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Bloody Stain
I looked and saw a bloody stain as if it came from me
It was thick and red and seemed to ooze out from my own belly
Then another spot upon one leg and another on my chest
I was climbing up a stairway and just couldn’t find my breath
The red! The red was all around and had me slipping on the stairs
And now it felt like raining and was running down my hair
I then looked up and then I saw the strangest sight I’d seen
Blood droplets on the ceiling falling in a steady stream
I knew it could not be my blood but it was raining down so fast
Not gentle like the rain itself but sticky and – aghast -
I saw a sluice of redness come sweeping down on me
And then I turned a corner and that blood was blinding me
I was swimming in some entrails that I could not even name
It was like being in a butcher’s or in some suicidal game
I then stood straight and shouted – I shouted right out loud
‘I will not retreat just for fear for I am strong and proud’
I no longer climbed all frightened – an answer I did crave
And at that the top of those red steps I did find my mother’s grave
Beelzebub looked in the mirror and then he turned a page
He was now fearful for himself and of my incessant rage
I slayed him on those foot steps so he couldn’t rise at all
And with his death all of that blood did vanish from the floor.
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Lizard Wizard
Known as “Devil, Satan, Beelzebub”
By all world religions far n’ wide
Totems are the goat, owl n’ scarab
His specialties are war n’ genocide
Works black magic behind a curtain
Whilst the unsuspecting romp n’ play
He wants their souls, that’s for certain
First he must lead their minds astray
He bribes weak-minded folks with money
Knows where n’ when to press your buttons
He makes grand promises of milk n’ honey
Whilst minions heat up sooty cauldrons
*“So don't be tempted by the shiny apple
Don't you eat of a bitter fruit
Hunger only for a taste of justice
Hunger only for a world of truth
'Cause all that you have is your soul”
(ROTMS/Lyrics by Tracy Chapman)
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life giving kiss from God
'Let us make man in our image, ' the angels heard God say
and watched in silence as He fashioned man from the clay.
Kneeling down God gathered all of the dust into a mound
and like a potter formed the shape of Adam on the ground.
Lovingly knitting the atoms of man together there
He moulded the first man with such tender loving care.
Then wonder of all wonders the Almighty's lips met his
and that man of clay became a living soul by God's kiss.
The same life giving kiss that God gave to Adam that day
God has still extended to the whole of mankind today.
For justice and mercy kissed on that Cross at Calvary
when the Son of God laid down His life for both you and me.
Master And The Pleader
O master, whitewashed,
We believe your shape and light,
Cunning, knavish and deceptive, quite,
Frightening the masses with might bright,
Hold back wise and crown the fools.
Lover of hemlock, skim milk and cream,
Misleading the world and laughing at their dream,
Upon our father’s ashes,
Make us kiss sacrilege
In this poverty and hunger are your riches.
Hark! You speak no right.
I make empires on pyres,
Doing many wonders at nights,
Covering darkness with blankets dark,
And make rogue and duffers delight.
I deliver luck in bowl and make world fool,
Loves hatred, jealousy, tricks,
Hates love and masses smile,
Promotes infidelity and plays truant,
Laden, Saddam, Lenin, and Stalin dear.
Creator of racism, quotas, fanaticism and fascism,
Preserver of poverty, hunger, rags and slum dogs,
Destroyer of equality, merit, harmony and happiness,
Sick of justice, human right,
Co lour red dear to me.
Destroyer of dreams,
Worships Satan, Lucifer and Beelzebub,
And plants Dracula s to nation groan,
I am a wolf in whites,
Hidden in secularism and justice social.
FROM:
DR. YOGESH SHARMA
poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flyswatter
Little field mice
Living under the house
Never eating much
Tough life for a mouse
And if you think youre gonna be spared youre wrong
Field mice, head lice
Spiders in the kitchen
Dont think twice bout
Whatever keeps you itchin
Ice water, flyswatter
Gonna get you trough
The day
Heat is rolling in like
Hells red rug
Stinking like the breath of beelzebub
And if you think you wont walk on coals you will
Field mice, head lice
Spiders in the kitchen
Dont think twice bout
Whatever keeps you itchin
Ice water, flyswatter
Gonna get you trough
The day
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kite
Come up and be a kite
Beelzebub is aching in my belly-o.
My feet are heavy and Im rooted in my wellios.
And I want to get away and go
From all these mirror windows.
I look at eye level, it isnt good enough.
And then I find it out when I take a good look up.
Theres a hole in the sky with a big eyeball
Calling me:
Come up and be a kite,
On a diamond flight!
A diamond kite, a diamond kite.
Ooh, what a diamond!
A diamond kite
On a diamond flight.
Over the lights, under the moon.
Over the lights, under the moon.
Over the moon, over the moon!
I feel a rush along my body, like a bullet.
Im 2-d after a push-and-pull feeling.
And I want to get back to safe home:
I love the homeland dome.*
I got no limbs, Im like a feather on the wind.
Well, Im not sure if I want to be up here, at all.
And Id like to be back on the ground,
But I dont know how to get down--down--down!
Come up and be a kite,
On a diamond flight!
A diamond kite, a diamond kite.
Ooh, what a diamond!
A diamond kite
On a diamond flight.
Over the lights, under the moon.
Over the lights, under the moon.
Over the moon, over the moon!
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nimmo
Since you remember Nimmo, and arrive
At such a false and florid and far drawn
Confusion of odd nonsense, I connive
No longer, though I may have led you on.
So much is told and heard and told again,
So many with his legend are engrossed,
That I, more sorry now than I was then,
May live on to be sorry for his ghost.
You knew him, and you must have known his eyes,—
How deep they were, and what a velvet light
Came out of them when anger or surprise,
Or laughter, or Francesca, made them bright.
No, you will not forget such eyes, I think,—
And you say nothing of them. Very well.
I wonder if all history’s worth a wink,
Sometimes, or if my tale be one to tell.
For they began to lose their velvet light;
Their fire grew dead without and small within;
And many of you deplored the needless fight
That somewhere in the dark there must have been.
All fights are needless, when they’re not our own,
But Nimmo and Francesca never fought.
Remember that; and when you are alone,
Remember me—and think what I have thought.
Now, mind you, I say nothing of what was,
Or never was, or could or could not be:
Bring not suspicion’s candle to the glass
That mirrors a friend’s face to memory.
Of what you see, see all,—but see no more;
For what I show you here will not be there.
The devil has had his way with paint before,
And he’s an artist,—and you needn’t stare.
There was a painter and he painted well:
He’d paint you Daniel in the lion’s den,
Beelzebub, Elaine, or William Tell.
I’m coming back to Nimmo’s eyes again.
The painter put the devil in those eyes,
Unless the devil did, and there he stayed;
And then the lady fled from paradise,
And there’s your fact. The lady was afraid.
She must have been afraid, or may have been,
Of evil in their velvet all the while;
But sure as I’m a sinner with a skin,
I’ll trust the man as long as he can smile.
I trust him who can smile and then may live
In my heart’s house, where Nimmo is today.
God knows if I have more than men forgive
To tell him; but I played, and I shall pay.
I knew him then, and if I know him yet,
I know in him, defeated and estranged,
The calm of men forbidden to forget
The calm of women who have loved and changed.
But there are ways that are beyond our ways,
Or he would not be calm and she be mute,
As one by one their lost and empty days
Pass without even the warmth of a dispute.
God help us all when women think they see;
God save us when they do. I’m fair; but though
I know him only as he looks to me,
I know him,—and I tell Francesca so.
And what of Nimmo? Little would you ask
Of him, could you but see him as I can,
At his bewildered and unfruitful task
Of being what he was born to be—a man.
Better forget that I said anything
Of what your tortured memory may disclose;
I know him, and your worst remembering
Would count as much as nothing, I suppose.
Meanwhile, I trust him; and I know his way
Of trusting me, and always in his youth.
I’m painting here a better man, you say,
Than I, the painter; and you say the truth.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In High Life
Sir Impycu Lackland, from over the sea,
Has led to the altar Miss Bloatie Bondee.
The wedding took place at the Church of St. Blare;
The fashion, the rank and the wealth were all there
No person was absent of all whom one meets.
Lord Mammon himself bowed them into their seats,
While good Sir John Satan attended the door
And Sexton Beelzebub managed the floor,
Respectfully keeping each dog to its rug,
Preserving the peace between poodle and pug.
Twelve bridesmaids escorted the bride up the aisle
To blush in her blush and to smile in her smile;
Twelve groomsmen supported the eminent groom
To scowl in his scowl and to gloom in his gloom.
The rites were performed by the hand and the lip
Of his Grace the Diocesan, Billingham Pip,
Assisted by three able-bodied divines.
He prayed and they grunted, he read, they made signs.
Such fashion, such beauty, such dressing, such grace
Were ne'er before seen in that heavenly place!
That night, full of gin, and all blazing inside,
Sir Impycu blackened the eyes of his bride.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Evil Woman
Arrived at the right place but at the wrong time
Brandishing your tenderness like organized crime
Affection towards me as pleasing as caustic lime
Could be, it was the right time but at the wrong place
Being with you is akin to the War Between the States
At least like movie scenes from Arsenic and Old Lace
Stuck between the Devil and the deep blue sea
Even offered you a branch from an olive tree
Your rebuttal stung like an African Killer Bee
Maybe it was between a rock and a hard place
Your kisses are like getting showered with mace
Succubus! I hope to never again see your face
I've often heard the early bird gets the worm
After all is said and done, I'll be standing firm
Washing my hands of you like I would a germ
However, it is the second mouse that gets the cheese
You routinely slung hate and discontent with expertise
Sayonara. Au revoir. Auf Wiedersehen. Call me 'the breeze'
It's been written that revenge is a dish best served cold
Satan laughed the day he bought you for some fool's gold
Go torment someone else, because it's really getting old
But we all know that a leopard can't change its spots
For Beelzebub uses evil women like you as his mascots
Don't forget 'Whit's fur ye'll no go past ye' say the Scots
poem by Charles Hancock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When The Lovelight Starts Shining Through His Eyes
(holland / dozier / holland)
He gave me the eye
But I just passed him by
I treated him unkind
But he didnt seem to mind
I told him be on his way
Not a word did he say
He just stood there kind of bored
What am I acting for?
When the lovelight starts shining through his eyes
Made me realise I should apologise
And when he placed a kiss upon my face
Then I knew, oh baby I knew
That hed won my heart
So I quickly apologised
Hopin he hadnt changed his mind
Not a word did he say
So I turned to walk away
When the lovelight starts shining through his eyes
Made me realise all he felt inside
And when he placed a kiss upon my lips
Then I knew, oh baby I knew
That hed won my heart, oh yeah
Then he asked could he walk my way
I hoped sweet things hed say
Then he smiled a-kind of nice
As he held my hand kind of tight
When the lovelight starts shining through his eyes
Made me realise all he felt inside
And when he placed a kiss upon my face
Then I knew, oh baby I knew
A-that hed won my heart, oh yeah
When the lovelight starts shining through his eyes
Made me realise all I felt inside
And when he placed a kiss upon my face
Then I knew, oh, baby, I knew
A-that hed won my heart, oh yeah
That hed won my heart
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bohemian Rhapsody
Mama just killed a man, Put a gun against his head,
pulled my trigger, now he's dead.
Mama, life had just begun,
But now I've gone and thrown it all away.
Mama, ooh, Didn't mean to make you cry,
If I'm not back again this time tomorrow,
carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters.
Too late, my time has come,
Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time.
Goodbye, ev'rybody, I've got to go,
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth.
Mama, ooh, I don't want to die,
I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all.
I see a little silhouetto of a man,
Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango.
Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very fright'ning me.
(Galileo.) Galileo. (Galileo.) Galileo, Galileo figaro
Magnifico. I'm just a poor boy and nobody loves me.
He's just a poor boy from a poor family,
Spare him his life from this monstrosity.
Easy come, easy go, will you let me go.
Bismillah! No, we will not let you go.
(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go.
(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go.
(Let me go.) Will not let you go.
(Let me go.) Will not let you go. (Let me go.) Ah.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
(Oh mama mia, mama mia.) Mama mia, let me go.
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me.
So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye.
So you think you can love me and leave me to die.
Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby,
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here.
Nothing really matters, Anyone can see,
Nothing really matters,
Nothing really matters to me.
Any way the wind blows.
song performed by by Guns N' Roses
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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IT's True
Habibti queen of queens…
You were never created to be abused…
God said so in the beginning…
When kicking Beelzebub out of paradise…
Along with you and Adam…
Because Satan had abused…Adams…queen…
You…
By way of the seven sins…
First that action motivated by anger…
Satan's anger…wrath…man's toy…
Then that selfish desire for more then just one…
Greed…take heed…it's just a woman…
I am Satan…man says…("I am man") …
Then the laziness of being in paradise…
Sloth-task-tic…
Which filled him with pride and envy…
Sure abuse tools pass down to man…
Satan became a guttonologist…
That really made God pissed…
Satan teaching man how to abuse…
Women as to there liking… Lustfully …
But my Habibti you have complete control…
You have the gold…
You are WOMAN…and need not bow to any…
Of the seven sins…
Not of your liking…
You have the main last word…
You are still that forbidden fruit…
Today… as yesterday…just say no…
You word… is the word…it's true…
That kitty kyat belongs to… you…YOURSssssss
Habibti…Arabic
(حبيبتي)
Grammar: word; feminine;
When a person wishes to say 'my dear' or 'my beloved' to a woman,
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bohemian Polka
Is this the real life
Is this just fantasy
Caught in a landslide
No escape from reality
Open your eyes
Look up to the skies and see
Im just a poor boy, I need no sympathy
cause Im easy come, easy go
Little high, little low
Anyway the wind blows, doesnt really matter to me
To me
Mama, just killed a man
Put a gun against his head
Pulled my trigger, now hes dead
Mama, life had just begun
But now Ive gone and thrown it all away
Mama, ooo
Didnt mean to make you cry
If Im not back again this time tomorrow
Carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters
Too late, my time has come
Sends shivers down my spine
Bodys aching all the time
Goodbye everybody - Ive got to go
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth
Mama, ooo
I dont want to die
I sometimes wish Id never been born at all
I see a little silhouetto of a mam
Scaramouch, scaramouch, will you do the fandango
Thunderbolt and lightning - very, very frightening me
Galileo, galileo
Galileo, galileo
Galileo figaro - magnifico... hey! hey! hey!
Im just a poor boy, nobody loves me
Hes just a poor boy from a poor family
Spare him his life from this monstrosity
Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?
Bismillah! no, we will not let you go - let him go
Bismillah! we will not let you go - let him go
Bismillah! we will not let you go - let him go
Will not let you go - let him go
Will not let you go - let him go
No, no, no, no, no no no no no!
Oh mama mia, mama mia, mama mia let me go
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me
For me
So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye
So you think you can love me and leave me to die
Oh, baby - cant do this to me, baby
Just gotta get out - just gotta get right outta here
Nothing really matters
Anyone can see
Nothing really matters
Nothing really matters to me anyway the wind blows - hey!
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We'll go No More A-Roving
We'll go no more a-roving by the light of the moon.
November glooms are barren beside the dusk of June.
The summer flowers are faded, the summer thoughts are sere.
We'll go no more a-roving, lest worse befall, my dear.
We'll go no more a-roving by the light of the moon.
The song we sang rings hollow, and heavy runs the tune.
Glad ways and words remembered would shame the wretched year.
We'll go no more a-roving, nor dream we did, my dear.
We'll go no more a-roving by the light of the moon.
If yet we walk together, we need not shun the noon.
No sweet thing left to savour, no sad thing left to fear,
We'll go no more a-roving, but weep at home, my dear.
poem by William Ernest Henley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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