A Daisy Through Concrete

Wake up the dying,
Dont wake up the dead
Change what your sayin,
Dont change what youve said
Now that its time that
I got out of bed
When Ill walk myself
Down sycamore street
The sun beats down
No shoes on my feet
And I stumble on
A daisy through concrete
Pink and brown babies
In pink stroller cars,
Know that its good
They dont care where they are
They know that home
Doesnt feel very far
When Ill walk myself
Down sycamore street

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song performed by Eels
Added by Lucian Velea
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God-Speed to the Snow

March is slain; the keen winds fly;
Nothing more is thine to do;
April kisses thee good-bye;
Thou must haste and follow too;
Silent friend that guarded well
Withered things to make us glad,
Shyest friend that could not tell
Half the kindly thought he had.
Haste thee, speed thee, O kind snow;
Down the dripping valleys go,
From the fields and gleaming meadows,
Where the slaying hours behold thee,
From the forests whose slim shadows,
Brown and leafless cannot fold thee,
Through the cedar lands aflame
With gold light that cleaves and quivers,
Songs that winter may not tame,
Drone of pines and laugh of rivers.
May thy passing joyous be
To thy father, the great sea,

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poem by Archibald Lampman
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Despair Is A Mad Man

Your thoughts are not too heavy for your heart
It is only foolery that makes it seem so
You think till you are hot
And then say you are sick
You cry in shameless misery
And lament your fate
Why me becomes a ballad
And you call the tune till tears drop
Despair is a mad man
Yet you befriend him
He goes causing a nuisance
But you seek him
Insanity has no friend they say
Still you go near to become mad as well
You go looking long and hard for gloom
If you are not mad, then you must be a fool
You do not pray
Nor invoke celestial beings
You do not sing
Nor chase dolour from your soul

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poem by Samuel Nze
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Apocalypse (Detroit 1976)

Anderson/Bruford/Howe/Squire)
And you and I climb, crossing the shapes of the morning.
And you and I reach over the sun for the river.
And you and I climb, clearer, towards the movement.
And you and I called over valleys of endless seas.
Siberian Khatru
(Anderson/Howe/Wakeman)
Sing, bird of prey;
Beauty begins at the foot of you. Do you believe the manner?
Gold stainless nail,
Torn through the distance of man
As they regard the summit.
Even Siberia goes through the motions.
Hold out and hold up;
Hold down the window.Outbound, river,
Hold out the morning that comes into view. Bluetail, tailfly.
River running right on over my head.
How does she sing?
Who holds the ring? And ring and you will find me coming.
Cold reigning king,

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song performed by Yes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Apocalypse (Detroit 1976)

Anderson/Bruford/Howe/Squire)
And you and I climb, crossing the shapes of the morning.
And you and I reach over the sun for the river.
And you and I climb, clearer, towards the movement.
And you and I called over valleys of endless seas.
Siberian Khatru
(Anderson/Howe/Wakeman)
Sing, bird of prey;
Beauty begins at the foot of you. Do you believe the manner?
Gold stainless nail,
Torn through the distance of man
As they regard the summit.
Even Siberia goes through the motions.
Hold out and hold up;
Hold down the window.Outbound, river,
Hold out the morning that comes into view. Bluetail, tailfly.
River running right on over my head.
How does she sing?
Who holds the ring? And ring and you will find me coming.
Cold reigning king,

[...] Read more

song performed by Yes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Knowing Innocent Blood Needs Saving

if you woke up one morning
to make a startling discovery
that American liberty dignity
was being stolen by secret
internal agendas seen and unseen
what would you do about it?

if you woke up one morning
to realize might pro American
global empire-ism clawing
would castrate your comment
about bombs drone attacks
in agenda foreign lands calling

what is shamefully wrong right
slaughter of innocent defenceless lambs
what would you do about it?
knowing war mongers blow up babies
to secure investment oil pipelines
knowing price paid political references

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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Insomnia

Now you hear what the house has to say.
Pipes clanking, water running in the dark,
the mortgaged walls shifting in discomfort,
and voices mounting in an endless drone
of small complaints like the sounds of a family
that year by year you've learned how to ignore.

But now you must listen to the things you own,
all that you've worked for these past years,
the murmur of property, of things in disrepair,
the moving parts about to come undone,
and twisting in the sheets remember all
the faces you could not bring yourself to love.

How many voices have escaped you until now,
the venting furnace, the floorboards underfoot,
the steady accusations of the clock
numbering the minutes no one will mark.
The terrible clarity this moment brings,
the useless insight, the unbroken dark.

poem by Dana Gioia
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The Ghost Of Tom Joad

Men walkin long the railroad tracks
Goin someplace theres no goin back
Highway patrol choppers comin up over the bridge
Hot soup on a campfire under the bridge
Shelter line stretchin round the corner
Welcome to the new world order
Families sleepin in their cars in the southwest
No home no job no peace no rest
The highway is alive tonight
But nobodys kiddin nobody about where it goes
Im sittin down here in the campfire light
Searchin for the ghost of tom joad
He pulls a prayer book out of his sleeping bag
Preacher lights up a butt and takes a drag
Waitin for when the last shall be first and the first shall be last
In a cardboard box neath the underpass
Got a one-way ticket to the promised land
You got a hole in your belly and gun in your hand
Sleepin on a pillow of solid rock
Bathin in the city aqueduct

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song performed by Bruce Springsteen
Added by Lucian Velea
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Manicured And Stretched Out Hands

A repeating of facts,
Continues to drone on the deaf ears...
Of those not interested,
For what appears to be for them...
Constant badgering delivered with critique.
People have grown accustomed to their laziness.

No matter how constructive the truth,
Many prefer their realities diluted.
And the ones who can present the best arguments,
For reasons to ignore any mention of discomfort...
May gain an attention given to be followed by complaints.

Those familiar with receiving just hugs and kisses,
Are always heard to wish for those times they reminisce.
When offerings of escapades were theirs in abundance.
But today with protests and persistent demands,
Even the basic entitlements once given are slowly fading away.
With or without those manicured and stretched out hands.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Just Over a Year Ago

The city council decided to demolish
the relatively new centre of education.
The building was way beyond repair
because of dangerous subsidization.

A new housing estate would be built
upon stronger, deeper foundations.
Sited next to the river and park land
the estate would be a prime location.

The contract builders soon moved in
and marked out the entire site.
Services and infrastructure were in place
and the pile drivers worked day and night.

As the houses were being completed
they were sold and families moved in.
The last section of land was made ready
for the pile driving machine to begin.

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poem by Orlando Belo
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Everything Will Flow

[VERSE1:]
Watch the early morning sun
Drip like blood from the day
See the crazy people run
So many games to play
See the blue suburban dream
Under the jet plane sky
Sleep away and dream a dream
Life is just a lullaby

[CHORUS:]
Ah Ah Ah
And everything will flow

[VERSE2:]
Watch the day begin again
Whispering into the night
See the crazy people play
Hurrying under the light
A million cars

song performed by Suede from Head Music
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ghost Of Tom Joad

Men walkin long the railroad tracks
Goin some place, theres no goin back
Highway patrol choppers comin up over the ridge
Hot soup on a campfire under the bridge
Shelter line stretchin round the corner
Welcome to the new world order
Families sieepin in their cars in the southwest
No home, no job, no peace, no rest
The highway is alive tonight
But nobodys kiddin nobody about where it goes
Im sitting down here in the campfire light
Searchin for the ghost of tom joad
He pulls prayer book out of his sleepin bag
Preacher lights up a butt and takes a drag
Waitin for when the last shall be first and the first shall be last
In a cardboard box neath the underpass
Got a one way ticket to the promised land
You got a hole in your belly and a gun in your hand
Sleeping on a pillow of solid rock
Bathing in the city aqueduct

[...] Read more

song performed by Rage Against The Machine
Added by Lucian Velea
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In A Cold Wind

In a cold wind
in a night wind,
under a yellow street-light,
its paleness and the dark night.

Leaves blown past,
down the wind, cast
onto the silent roadway,
or in heaps, on the footway.

The houses that rise
into grey skies,
windows with drawn curtains,
facing onto pale gardens.

Slow in the sky,
the clouds moving by;
on the ground, the shadows blurred,
the whistling wind heard.

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poem by Rory Hudson
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Who Can Stand In The Way

Well oh well I feel Im in decay
John laws is on the air again
Its heavy traffic, jacarandas, eye in the sky and foot on ground
I see a million sand speckd ants in mortal combat hand to hand
And I feel that i
Yes I feel that i
Seem to live this life long distance
Gaze at the things surround me
People rolling in and out
Those circles and tides confound me
And theres just one thing
Yes theres just one thing
Who can stand in the way
When theres a dollar to be made?
I was hanging round off dobroyd point
When the first fleet chain sailed in
Looked into the clearest blue
The scurvy smell, the convicts cry
And we just carried on,
Yes we just carried on

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song performed by Midnight Oil
Added by Lucian Velea
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I am born to win

I am born to be the President
of my village where my caste dominates.
I have men to plan ahead and delete
the names of dissidents from the voters’ list.
If the people of minor castes seem to vote for me,
their names will be found in the corrected list
or else they will vanish. Thanks to the VAO.
Some hamlets denying votes to me will be added
to the Voters’ list of the nearby Panchayat.

I am fit to be an MLA
for I have loyal workers
to throw stones on the processions,
of my rivals in politics
and bribe the reporters to write
that people chased away my rival everywhere.
My hooligans will hack the volunteers
of my opponent who dare to defy me.
They will set ablaze the huts
which refuse to hang my photo on the wall.

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poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Mulatto Children

How loudly the quietus barks,
Diana: Liquored up, lighting up the woods,
Our four legged body decorated by
Penumbra-
So far away the holocaust lamps of another sea,
These words I use,
Young goddess, one breasted, leaping at the
Form,
Airplanes bowing beneath her:
I see her sometimes as I am coming out of the gym,
Or when I am vacationing onto the
West part of Florida.
Archaeologists are gathering around her like kids
In daycare,
Undressing her splendiferous hip,
Speculating,
Speculating: Luscious bride of all the colors and
Elements,
Sometimes water and sometimes greening wood;
And now the cars are passing, streams of little girls:

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poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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Common Courtesy

What does my heart feel like now;
But it feels like a long poem wanting more the
Poisons of my muses of putrescent Janus;
Looking both ways from the doorways of these
Awful purple valves,
While there are little keyholes of vision,
Then the crickets and golf balls, and the wickedness
Of water-breathing reptiles in the tall grasses of
Head-shaven cannibals:
I awakened this day of my third decade and asked a
Girl out for the first time,
And she said she couldn’t because she said she was
Not mine;
I asked a girl out for the first and for the last time,
And the candles melted under the pillow of unanswered
Virgins,
And I slouched off to the sea alone in my diesel truck
With the amphibian airplanes leaping above the ankles of
These almost vanished Titans;
And I thought of my muses, but paid to be laid by a little

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poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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Amelia Earharts Last Fligh

Just a ship out on the ocean, a speck against the sky,
Amelia earhart flying that sad day;
With her partner, captain noonan, on the second of july
Her plane fell in the ocean, far away.
Theres a beautiful, beautiful field
Far away-ay-ay in a land that is fair.
Happy landings to you, amelia earhart,
Farewell, first lady of the air.
Half an hour later her sos was heard,
Her signals weak, but still her voice was brave.
In shark-infested waters her aeroplane went down that night
In the blue pacific to a watery grave.
Theres a beautiful, beautiful field
Far away-ay-ay in a land that is fair.
Happy landings to you, amelia earhart,
Farewell, first lady of the air.
Now you heard my story bout this awful tragedy,
We all pray shell fly home safe again.
In years to come, though others blaze a trail across the sea,
Well neer forget amelia and her plane.

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song performed by Kinky Friedman
Added by Lucian Velea
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Minor Breathing

If only you could see.
What lies behind these fragile eyes.
The knowledge of these tears.
The reason I seem malign.

See, I was never prideful.
And forever, I felt scorned.
One's silence may seem frightful.
When he bows his head forlorn.

Knowing I've never fully triumphed.
Any chaos I have fought.
I cracked my blade in battle.
A repair that can't be bought.

Not pessimistic, nor of naught.
I just see things as they are.
That's probably why I can't believe.
How I've made it this far.

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poem by Aaron Lynn
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The Pallid Cuckoo

Dolefully and drearily
Come I with the spring;
Wearily and cerily
My threnody I sing.
Hear my drear, discordant note
Sobbing, sobbing in my throat,
Weaving, wailing thro' the wattles
Where the builders are a-wing.

Outcast and ostracized,
Miserable me!
By the feathered world despised,
Chased from tree to tree.
Nought to do the summer thro',
My woeful weird a dree;
Singing, 'Pity, ah, pity,
Miserable me!'

I'm the menace and the warning,
Loafing, labour-shy.

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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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