POET'S LAIR
The Other Guy
Spam King
LATE LAMENT
Breathe deep the gathering gloom,
Watch lights fade from every room.
Bedsitter people look back and lament,
Another day's useless energy spent.
Impassioned lovers wrestle as one,
Lonely man cries for love and has none.
New mother picks up and suckles her son,
Senior citizens wish they were young.
Cold hearted orb that rules the night,
Removes the colours from our sight.
Red is grey and yellow white.
But we decide which is right.
And which is an illusion???.
Breathe deep the gathering gloom,
Watch lights fade from every room.
Bedsitter people look back and lament,
Another day's useless energy spent.
Impassioned lovers wrestle as one,
Lonely man cries for love and has none.
New mother picks up and suckles her son,
Senior citizens wish they were young.
Cold hearted orb that rules the night,
Removes the colours from our sight.
Red is grey and yellow white.
But we decide which is right.
And which is an illusion???.
The Other Guy
Spam King
Graeme Edge of the Moody Blues.
The poem is read at the end of the album version of "Nights in White Satin."
The poem is read at the end of the album version of "Nights in White Satin."
The Other Guy
Spam King
Oh cheeseburger Bound in packaging
I Sit here drooling over you, as if you were my bedroom escort
I hold you, with no knowledge of where you came from
I see not an animal, I see not the slaughter.
But despite that, I eat...
I know nothing of the cow from which your meat came
I know nothing of the worker who picked your Tomato
I Know nothing of the baker who made your buns
But despite that, I eat...
I give you not Grace,
I give not thanks
I give you not the slightest thought
But Despite that, I eat...
And Oh sweet burger, whom I’ve ravaged
I’ll continue what I do,
through the day and through the night
and its all because of you
-Rain420 (only ID I have)
I Sit here drooling over you, as if you were my bedroom escort
I hold you, with no knowledge of where you came from
I see not an animal, I see not the slaughter.
But despite that, I eat...
I know nothing of the cow from which your meat came
I know nothing of the worker who picked your Tomato
I Know nothing of the baker who made your buns
But despite that, I eat...
I give you not Grace,
I give not thanks
I give you not the slightest thought
But Despite that, I eat...
And Oh sweet burger, whom I’ve ravaged
I’ll continue what I do,
through the day and through the night
and its all because of you
-Rain420 (only ID I have)
"Fields Of Gold"
You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in the fields of gold
So she took her love
For to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold
Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in the fields of gold
See the west wind move like a lover so
Upon the fields of barley
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of gold
I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We'll walk in the fields of gold
We'll walk in the fields of gold
Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold
You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold
sting.
This was composed about the fields which surround our hometown in all directions.
You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in the fields of gold
So she took her love
For to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold
Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in the fields of gold
See the west wind move like a lover so
Upon the fields of barley
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of gold
I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We'll walk in the fields of gold
We'll walk in the fields of gold
Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold
You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold
sting.
This was composed about the fields which surround our hometown in all directions.
The Other Guy
Spam King
I love that song
The Other Guy
Spam King
oh, and you don't even know the guy who wrote it!
sort of like that guy.
sort of like that guy.
G. K Chesterton sends us this one:
The Christ-child lay on Mary's lap,
His hair was like a light.
(O weary, weary were the world,
But here is all aright.)
The Christ-child lay on Mary's breast
His hair was like a star.
(O stern and cunning are the kings,
But here the true hearts are.)
The Christ-child lay on Mary's heart,
His hair was like a fire.
(O weary, weary is the world,
But here the world's desire.)
The Christ-child stood on Mary's knee,
His hair was like a crown,
And all the flowers looked up at Him,
And all the stars looked down
His hair was like a light.
(O weary, weary were the world,
But here is all aright.)
The Christ-child lay on Mary's breast
His hair was like a star.
(O stern and cunning are the kings,
But here the true hearts are.)
The Christ-child lay on Mary's heart,
His hair was like a fire.
(O weary, weary is the world,
But here the world's desire.)
The Christ-child stood on Mary's knee,
His hair was like a crown,
And all the flowers looked up at Him,
And all the stars looked down
Very good, Padre. And timely. I like Chesterton, and this poem is reflected every time I see a new-born baby. Perfection and wonderment.
Here is the poem you requested,although not in the same class, of course. But it was written with integrity and necessity to get it off my chest, for myself!
THANKS BUT NO THANKS. 31 aug 06
THEY GAVE US MULTI-CULTURE;
I DON’T RECALL THEY ASKED;
IT CAME AS FAIT ACCOMPLI;
THEY NEVER SOUGHT OUR ‘BY YOUR LEAVE’.
WE GAVE THEM SHELTER FROM THE STORM;
THEY THANKED US WITH THE BOMB
AND SPILT OUR BLOOD ON LONDON’S STREETS.
THEY CLAIM TO REPRESENT OUR WISH
TO DAMN OUR STAUNCHEST FRIENDS;
THEY TWIST OUR LEADERS’ SEARCH FOR TRUTH;
WE PAY THE DANE-GELD ONCE AGAIN.
IN FACT OUR GREAT MAJORITY
WISH THEY WOULD FADE AWAY,
TO WHERE THEY CAN LIVE COMFORTABLY
IN BELOVED SHARIA.
AN ENGLISHMAN AT MIDDAY SUN
WALKS WITH UNCOVERED FACE,
LIVES IN PEACE WITH THE NEXT GOOD MAN
AND THANKS GOD FOR INDIA.
SO WHEN WE HEAR THEIR PREACHERS SPOUT,
WE SMILE THEM -
'THANKS BUT NO THANKS'
SHARIA LAW ? -
'THANKS BUT NO THANKS.'
GREAT PEACEFUL ISLAM ? -
'THANKS BUT NO THANKS.'
Here is the poem you requested,although not in the same class, of course. But it was written with integrity and necessity to get it off my chest, for myself!
THANKS BUT NO THANKS. 31 aug 06
THEY GAVE US MULTI-CULTURE;
I DON’T RECALL THEY ASKED;
IT CAME AS FAIT ACCOMPLI;
THEY NEVER SOUGHT OUR ‘BY YOUR LEAVE’.
WE GAVE THEM SHELTER FROM THE STORM;
THEY THANKED US WITH THE BOMB
AND SPILT OUR BLOOD ON LONDON’S STREETS.
THEY CLAIM TO REPRESENT OUR WISH
TO DAMN OUR STAUNCHEST FRIENDS;
THEY TWIST OUR LEADERS’ SEARCH FOR TRUTH;
WE PAY THE DANE-GELD ONCE AGAIN.
IN FACT OUR GREAT MAJORITY
WISH THEY WOULD FADE AWAY,
TO WHERE THEY CAN LIVE COMFORTABLY
IN BELOVED SHARIA.
AN ENGLISHMAN AT MIDDAY SUN
WALKS WITH UNCOVERED FACE,
LIVES IN PEACE WITH THE NEXT GOOD MAN
AND THANKS GOD FOR INDIA.
SO WHEN WE HEAR THEIR PREACHERS SPOUT,
WE SMILE THEM -
'THANKS BUT NO THANKS'
SHARIA LAW ? -
'THANKS BUT NO THANKS.'
GREAT PEACEFUL ISLAM ? -
'THANKS BUT NO THANKS.'
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Standing Watch
The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree, I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.
The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know,
Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.
A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a sailor, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.
"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,
"Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!"
"Put down your pack, brush the snow from you sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"
For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts,
To the window that danced with a warm fire's light,
The he sighed and he said, "It's really all right,
I'm out here by choice, I'm here every night."
"It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of 'Nam,
And now it is my turn and so, Here I am.
I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile."
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The Red, White and Blue....an American Flag.
"I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother
who stand at the front against any and all,
to ensure for all time that this flag will not fall.
So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?"
It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from you wife and your son."
Then his eyes welled a tear that held no regret,
"Just tell us you love us, and never forget
To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone.
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled
is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us
The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree, I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.
The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know,
Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.
A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a sailor, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.
"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,
"Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!"
"Put down your pack, brush the snow from you sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"
For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts,
To the window that danced with a warm fire's light,
The he sighed and he said, "It's really all right,
I'm out here by choice, I'm here every night."
"It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of 'Nam,
And now it is my turn and so, Here I am.
I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile."
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The Red, White and Blue....an American Flag.
"I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother
who stand at the front against any and all,
to ensure for all time that this flag will not fall.
So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?"
It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from you wife and your son."
Then his eyes welled a tear that held no regret,
"Just tell us you love us, and never forget
To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone.
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled
is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us
The Other Guy
Spam King
So true.......
Funny how it seems.....
Always in time, but never in line for dreams.
Head over heels, when toe to toe,
This is the sound of my soul. (This is the sound)
I bought a ticket to the world,
But now I've come back again.
Why do I find it hard to write the next line?
When I want the truth to be said.......
I know this much is true.
I know this much is true.
With a thrill in my head and a pill on my tongue,
Dissolve the nerves that have just begun.
Listening to Marvin all night long.
This is the sound of my soul. (This is the sound)
Always slipping from my hands,
Sand's a time of it's own.
Take your seaside arms and write the next line,
Oh, I want the truth to be known.......
I know this much is true.
I know this much is true.
I bought a ticket to the world,
But now I've come back again.
Why do I find it hard to write the next line?
When I want the truth to be said.......
I know this much is true.
I know this much is true.
I know this much is........
I know this much is.......
True.
I know this much is......
I know this much is.......
True.
I know this much is......
I know this much is.......
True.
I know this much is......
I know this much is.......
True.
-Spandau Ballet
Funny how it seems.....
Always in time, but never in line for dreams.
Head over heels, when toe to toe,
This is the sound of my soul. (This is the sound)
I bought a ticket to the world,
But now I've come back again.
Why do I find it hard to write the next line?
When I want the truth to be said.......
I know this much is true.
I know this much is true.
With a thrill in my head and a pill on my tongue,
Dissolve the nerves that have just begun.
Listening to Marvin all night long.
This is the sound of my soul. (This is the sound)
Always slipping from my hands,
Sand's a time of it's own.
Take your seaside arms and write the next line,
Oh, I want the truth to be known.......
I know this much is true.
I know this much is true.
I bought a ticket to the world,
But now I've come back again.
Why do I find it hard to write the next line?
When I want the truth to be said.......
I know this much is true.
I know this much is true.
I know this much is........
I know this much is.......
True.
I know this much is......
I know this much is.......
True.
I know this much is......
I know this much is.......
True.
I know this much is......
I know this much is.......
True.
-Spandau Ballet
Very poignant Del. I liked your William Smith O'Brien poem post.
wrc 619 - good poem "Standing watch."
Hey OG, where are Spandau Ballet these days?
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The Other Guy
Spam King
have no clue. somewhere in Germany I guess...