Questions

Whos that man with the potion
Dressed in velvet and gloves
Causing grief and commotion
Talking bout love
Talking bout love
What on earth is he thinking
Where on earth has he been
Why do I feel like Im sinking
What does it mean
What does it mean
Lets walk through the jungle
Put your arm in my arm
And should this ground start to crumble
Well come to no harm, come to no harm
I once had a coat I was proud of
I wore that coat a long time
Just when the music got loudest
I left it behind
Left it behind
I could pretend that Im dreaming

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song performed by Waterboys
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Army Mules

Oh the airman's game is a showman's game, for we all of us watch him go
With his roaring soaring aeroplane and his bombs for the blokes below,
Over the railways and over the dumps, over the Hun and the Turk,
You'll hear him mutter, "What ho, she bumps," when the Archies get to work.
But not of him is the song I sing, though he follow the eagle's flight,
And with shrapnel holes in his splintered wing comes home to his roost at night.
He may silver his wings on the shining stars, he may look from the throne on high,
He may follow the flight of the wheeling kite in the blue Egyptian sky,
But he's only a hero built to plan, turned out by the Army schools,
And I sing of the rankless, thankless man who hustles the Army mules.
Now where he comes from and where he lives is a mystery dark and dim,
And it's rarely indeed that the General gives a D.S.O. to him.
The stolid infantry digs its way like a mole in a ruined wall;
The cavalry lends a tone, they say, to what were else but a brawl;
The Brigadier of the Mounted Fut like a cavalry Colonel swanks
When he goeth abroad like a gilded nut to receive the General's thanks;
The Ordnance man is a son of a gun and his lists are a standing joke;
You order, "Choke arti Jerusalem one" for Jerusalem artichoke.
The Medicals shine with a number nine, and the men of the great R.E.,
Their Colonels are Methodist, married or mad, and some of them all the three;

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poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Wish You Were Here

This song appears on three albums, and was first released on the flower that shattered the stone album, and has also been released on the stonehaven sunrise and the john denver collection - caly
Lbums.
Dear friend of mine, the weather's fine
Today i saw some ruins of the roman world' decline
And i climbed all those spanish steps, you've heard of them no doubt
But rome has lost its glory, i don't know what it's about
I wish you were here
(when the shadows fall and all the rushing traffic stills)
I wish you were here
(and the bells are ringing on the seven hills)
I make my way to a small cafe
I wonder what you did today
Wish you were here
Dear one at home, i just flew in from rome
And paris is a postcard all decked in color chrome
And so i climbed the eiffel tower and prayed at notre dame
But i just can't find the romance and i wonder why i came
I wish you were here
(on the champs elysees, lovers walking hand in hand)
I wish you were here

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song performed by John Denver
Added by Lucian Velea
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Early Mornin Rain

In the early mornin rain
With a dollar in my hand
With an achin in my heart
And my pockets full of sand
Im a long way from home
And I missed my loved on so
In the early mornin rain
And no place to go
Out on runway number nine
Big seven-o-seven set to go
Well, Im stuck here on the ground
Where the cold winds blow
The liquor tasted good
And the women all were fast
There she goes, my friend
Shes a rollin down at last
Here the mighty engines roar
See the silver bird on high
Shes away in westward bound
Far above the clouds shell fly

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song performed by Bob Dylan
Added by Lucian Velea
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If my car could run on pure water

IF MY CAR could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would wander thousands of kilometers in the day,
Driving at roaring speeds through the broad highway streets; drowned in waves of tremendous euphoria.

If my car could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would stop contemplating the cost of expensive gasoline,
Explore every nook and cranny of the gigantic globe; would prefer to drive; every time I was overpowered with the incorrigible urge to walk.

If my car could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would evacuate the monsoon rivers of their liquid,
Storing it surreptitiously in my colossal tank; pilfer every droplet of the solvent dribbling from the mountain springs.

If my car could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would relinquish to travel by the most extravagant of aircraft,
Thoroughly utilizing my incredulous contraption; to transport me wherever I wanted; without the slightest pinch to my pocket.

If my car could run on pure water instead of petrol; I would never feel uncouth pangs of thirst reverberate in my vocal chords,
As I would devour frugal mouthfuls of the liquid stashed in my fuel jacket; at intermittent intervals while traversing through the streets.

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poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Early Mornin Rain

(words & music by gordon lightfoot)
In the early mornin rain
With a dollar in my hand
And an aching in my heart
And my -pockets full of sand
Im a long ways from home
And I missed my loved one so
In the early mornin rain
With no place to go
Out on runway number nine
Big 707 set to go
Well Im out here on the grass
Where the pavement never grows
Where the liquor tasted good
And the women all were fast
There she goes my friend
Shes rolling out at last
Hear the mighty engines roar
See the silver wing on high
Shes away and westward bound

[...] Read more

song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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California Winter

It is winter in California, and outside
Is like the interior of a florist shop:
A chilled and moisture-laden crop
Of pink camellias lines the path; and what
Rare roses for a banquet or a bride,
So multitudinous that they seem a glut!

A line of snails crosses the golf-green lawn
From the rosebushes to the ivy bed;
An arsenic compound is distributed
For them. The gardener will rake up the shells
And leave in a corner of the patio
The little mound of empty shells, like skulls.

By noon the fog is burnt off by the sun
And the world's immensest sky opens a page
For the exercise of a future age;
Now jet planes draw straight lines, parabolas,
And x's, which the wind, before they're done,
Erases leisurely or pulls to fuzz.

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poem by Karl Shapiro
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Bullets And Kisses

My bullets are kisses.
Let me send them to everyone of you.
Let them poison the very essence of your soul.
Let me claim another victim.
Let me dig another grave of the forgotten.
Memories dead, stale, and rotten.

Heat seeking missile are only sent destroy.
Man less drones are deployed.
Books to a religion burned.
Peace will be destroyed.
It is impossible to avoid.
Unrest on steroids.

My bullets are kisses.
Let me send them to everyone of you.
Let them poison the very essence of your soul.
Let me claim another victim.
Let me dig another grave of the forgotten.
Memories dead, stale, and rotten.

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poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Youre A Big Girl Now

Our conversation was short and sweet
It nearly swept me off-a my feet.
And Im back in the rain, oh, oh,
And you are on dry land.
You made it there somehow
Youre a big girl now.
Bird on the horizon, sittin on a fence,
Hes singin his song for me at his own expense.
And Im just like that bird, oh, oh,
Singin just for you.
I hope that you can hear,
Hear me singin through these tears.
Time is a jet plane, it moves too fast
Oh, but what a shame if all weve shared cant last.
I can change, I swear, oh, oh,
See what you can do.
I can make it through,
You can make it too.
Love is so simple, to quote a phrase,
Youve known it all the time, Im learnin it these days.

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song performed by Bob Dylan
Added by Lucian Velea
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3rd Of June

This is the 3rd of june, 1988
A highly unimportant day
Some airplane gliding into one of the bigger clouds over manhattan
In a downtown far away, mr. toomy, our face in a crowd
The city was slow and tired
The wall street boys wearing their ties around their neck
Like boxers towels after a fight
Mr. toomy stopped his pinstripe suit outside a barber shop
Looked at his face, took off his jacket and stepped on it
Whos that, whats that, what do you mean
Ill never know where I lost my dream
Whos that, whats that, gimme your name
3rd of june, end of game
No looking to the right
No looking to the left
Lenny is a target and always on track
Lenny is a target and nobody shoots
Lenny is a target lost the route
Ruins of a childs old fantasy
Ruins of a child was [? ]

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song performed by Yello
Added by Lucian Velea
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3rd Of June

This is the 3rd of june, 1988
A highly unimportant day
Some airplane gliding into one of the bigger clouds over manhattan
In a downtown far away, mr. toomy, our face in a crowd
The city was slow and tired
The wall street boys wearing their ties around their neck
Like boxers towels after a fight
Mr. toomy stopped his pinstripe suit outside a barber shop
Looked at his face, took off his jacket and stepped on it
Whos that, whats that, what do you mean
Ill never know where I lost my dream
Whos that, whats that, gimme your name
3rd of june, end of game
No looking to the right
No looking to the left
Lenny is a target and always on track
Lenny is a target and nobody shoots
Lenny is a target lost the route
Ruins of a childs old fantasy
Ruins of a child was [? ]

[...] Read more

song performed by Yello
Added by Lucian Velea
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Still (Rough Edit)

Folks Still blindly trust in all aspects of the government
Not knowin their best friends could be under cover men
for the establishment
Still feeds those with a lot of cheese
And the ones who can’t afford it can continue saying please
Tactics for control Still taken outta history
They worked then as they do now and yet it’s Still a mystery
Still very few witnesses who don’t value their lives
But to find questions for answers, they jeopardize their wives
Husbands, cousins, sisters and mothers
Brothers in arms with intent to discover
We're all Still equal, some Still more so than others

You Still buzz in everyday an unappreciated drone
Money can buy happiness, it’s just never your own
New blood grows old blood Still gets fired so
Still getting told with no sign of pretense though
You’ll always have a place here like the old Nintendo
Pretend? No, trust us with your dividends
Blindly work hard and you’ll be a model citizen

[...] Read more

poem by P.R. Prosper
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Brooding Sunset Before The Storm

Brooding sunset before the storm. Over ripe apricot
left out in the sun too long. Heat brain
boiling its thoughts in their own womb.
The clouds lumber like thundering Diplodoci
Slowly and in herds. Continental rifts in Pangaea.
Black outs and the lightning roots
of unknown blossoms sticking out their tongues
like petals to taste the first drops of rain.
The air menacing, thick, humid as lipstick
foreshadowing climactic things to come.

Sky bound i.e.d.s, and the pigeons scattering
for cover under the eves from overhead drones
that have been circling all afternoon
with the turkey vultures looking for road kill.
The windows set up like easels for the show.
Action paintings of still life with blitzkrieg.
The crackling of glass that layered black over white.
Oleaceous vapours of asphalt on roofs and roads.
I can smell the late Jurassic in rut from here

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poem by Patrick White
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Random things about my Mother

My mother whose eyes were strained
By a sadness that stained her eyes
With grey and blue hue

My mother who never blew
Out candles on a birthday cake

My mother who never knew
The thrills of flying in an airplane

My mother who forever threw
Her pearls to swine

My mother who knew
No contentment in living

My who mother never lived
To be even seventy two

My mother who it is true

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poem by Fleurette Elaine Harris
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Going To California

Spent my days with a woman unkind,
Smoked my stuff and drank all my wine.
Made up my mind to make a new start,
Going to california with an aching in my heart.
Someone told me theres a girl out there
With love in her eyes and flowers in her hair.
Took my chances on a big jet plane,
Never let them tell you that theyre all the same.
The sea was red and the sky was grey,
Wondered how tomorrow could ever follow today.
The mountains and the canyons started to tremble and shake
As the children of the sun began to awake.
Seems that the wrath of the gods
Got a punch on the nose and it started to flow;
I think I might be sinking.
Throw me a line if I reach it in time
Ill meet you up there where the path
Runs straight and high.
To find a queen without a king;
They say she plays guitar and cries and sings.

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song performed by Led Zeppelin
Added by Lucian Velea
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Howl Revisited

for Allen Ginsberg

I saw the best minds as
the stray dogs
of my generation,
wagging their fluffy tails,
howling apocalyptic
announcements in buses
and on subways trains,
in supermarkets and
colleges campuses-
barking about something
extremely important
like Kafka and busty blondes,
revealing the utter banality
of our ever collapsing
Western civilization,
reminiscent of some Goya
paintings, smudged with lipstick,
rouge, powders and mascara-

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poem by Alexander Shaumyan (9 January 2010)
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Leave

Nothing could be bring me closer.
Nothing could be bring me near.
Where is the road I follow?
Believing, leave.
Its under, under, under my feet.
The scene spread out there before me.
Better I go where the land touches sea.
There is my trust in what I believe.
Thats what keeps me,
Thats what keeps me,
Thats what keeps me down,
To leave it, believe it,
Leave it all behind.
Shifting the dream
Nothing could bring me further from my old friend time
Shifting the dream
Charging the scene
I know where I marked the signs
Suffer the dreams of a world gone mad
I like it like that and I know it

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song performed by REM
Added by Lucian Velea
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Battle

1.
Noon

It is midday; the deep trench glares….
A buzz and blaze of flies….
The hot wind puffs the giddy airs….
The great sun rakes the skies.

No sound in all the stagnant trench
Where forty standing men
Endure the sweat and grit and stench,
Like cattle in a pen.

Sometimes a sniper's bullet whirs
Or twangs the whining wire,
Sometimes a soldier sighs and stirs
As in hell's frying fire.

From out a high, cool cloud descends
An aeroplane's far moan,

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poem by Robert Nichols
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Chalk And Cheese

Around Camden Market, there's a lively pace,
But, just minutes away, there's a different place.
It's as though you have entered another world:
A whole new kingdom is suddenly unfurled.

There, you'll discover tranquillity and peace;
Life's hustle and bustle will suddenly cease.
It's a peaceful haven: a welcome oasis of calm;
It's a really special place, packed full of charm.

It was a warm, sunny day - perfect for walking;
On the benches, people sat reading, or just talking.
Along the canal, painted narrow-boats cruised;
Further upstream, people were paddling canoes.

Ducks and moorhens were dotted here and there.
At a Friesian cow sculpture, I stopped and stared.
Wavy patterns decorated the bridges' undersides.
For cyclists, the towpath made a pleasant ride.

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poem by Angela Wybrow
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Knights Of The Never Never

When I rode with young Sid Kidman out across the Yarrowie Plain
In that year the Long Drought ended, and the northlands smiled again
As we took the old Tarcowie track and on to Booleroo,
His keen eye scanned the country, and we yarned of men we knew:
Mal Murray and Jim Spicer, of Jasser and Judell,
Bill Mitchell and old stagers whom I still remember well;
And he told of chance-missed fortunes when the game was in his grasp,
Of life along The Barrier with German Charlie Rasp.

Now, back in Kidman country where the grizzled bushmen are,
In many a stark out-station, o'er many a shanty bar,
The drovers' drawling voices talk about 'Old Sid' today:
'Bushmen like him ain't raised no more,' the grizzled veterans say,
For o'er the furthest saltbush lands his questing mind went out
To glimpse high opportunity where others saw black drought.
Shrewd-eyed, yet greatly daring, laughing he ventured forth
To stake his luck, his judgment 'gainst swift treacheries 'up north.'

'I mind the time I rode with him,' a wizened stockman says.
'He knowed that country like a map, an' all the tricks an' ways.

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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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