"It\'s all forgotten now" – 4501 rezultate
0.02 secundeMeilisearchJohn Willy Kopperud
It\'s All Over Now, Baby Blue Bob Dylan You must leave now, take what you need, you think will last. But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast. Yonder stands your orphan with his gun, Crying like a fire in the sun. Look out the saints are comin\' through And it\'s all over now, Baby Blue. The highway is for gamblers, better use your sense. Take what you have gathered from coincidence. The empty-handed painter from your streets Is drawing crazy patterns on your sheets. This sky, too, is folding under you And it\'s all over now, Baby Blue. All your seasick sailors, they are rowing home. All your reindeer armies, are all going home. The lover who just walked out your door Has taken all his blankets from the floor. The carpet, too, is moving under you And it\'s all over now, Baby Blue. Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you. Forget the dead you\'ve left, they will not follow you. The vagabond who\'s rapping at your door Is standing in the clothes that you...
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Igor Ursenco
CURRICULUM VITAE(Epekeina tes ousias: "beyond the being" Plato)) It's my thirst which concedes that there is water... Irrigated, my soul awakes forth: I'm surviving my nigts,for I taper this body worth... I exceed all my fates.I should figth her wasted battles, anxious to allot penitences of Eva & wagger fleengs of Loth... Who I am? Could she know? Yet I master her thougts - trespassing my bounds - remote... May I be her breath, confined by - rather - things she sais me not..?
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DMdan marius
"Well, I've been a disclaimer for twenty-four years Poor mother drowned in a pillow of tears Im well known in story, famous in song The black sheep, the blemish, the one who went wrong The black sheep, the blemish, the one who went wrong My crime is discomfort, my mind ill at ease Old crow on my shoulder, my favorite disease My siblings, my rivals might tend to my wake Grieve me not brothers, I was mother's mistake Grieve me not brothers, I was mother's mistake And all the grand expectations of an epic of wealth Leave me long to crawl back to the womb Well, I've tasted your grace, placed it back on the shelf Drag your pedigree wives to your tomb Drag your pedigree wives to your tomb Well, I came from this city, a victim of peace But I've grown far too filthy to attend to the feast So I'll take to the hills to live savage and free I don't need nobody, nobody needs me I don't need nobody, nobody needs me" http://www.obliothedagger.blogspot.com/
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VVVeronica Văleanu
All expression of energy in this universe must end where it began. Walter Russell I am a survivivore. And for a survivivore, its predatory condition is strictly related to consuming its own survivals. Born - every time I was signalled to. Married, two children. Printer.s Devil Review, vol.2, no.2 Chicago Poetry Review, Poetry Cram 14, Journal of Modern Poetry Randomly Accessed Poetics World Poetry Reading Series, Featured Poets Ygdrasil, A Journal of the Poetic Arts, vol.XXII, issue 3 ...as I said: Nobody can live real poetry. You have to survive it.
185 poezii, 0 proze
Duca Horia
So why did I do it? I could offer a million answers, all false. The truth is that I'm a bad person, but that's gonna change. I'm going to change. This is the last of that sort of thing. I'm cleaning up and I'm moving on. Going straight and choosing life. I'm looking forward to it already. I'm going to be just like you. The job, the family, the fucking big television, the washing machine, the car, the compact disc, and electrical tin opener, good health, low cholesterol, dental insurance, mortgage, starter home, leisurewear, luggage, three-piece suite, D.I.Y., game shows, junk food, children, walks in the park, 9:00 to 5:00, good at golf, washing the car,choice of sweaters, family Christmas, indexed pension, tax exemption, clearing gutters, getting by,looking ahead to the day you die.
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Adam Drucker
The power of word and a child\'s imagination walk their way through Doseone\'s works creating music described by Urb as \"so indelible you may have to physically turn it off and take a breather.\" From his sought after release \'Hemispheres\' to his poetic soundscape \'Slow Death\', his releases have overflowed with such style that it prompted one reviewer to dub him \"an artist who may turn out to be one of our generation\'s most important.\" One of hiphop\'s most prolific artists, he is the driving force behind Themselves, Deep Puddle Dynamics, cLOUDDEAD, and Greenthink and has provided guest vocals for a slew of other notable releases. From an east coast birth, to a midwest education, and now a westcoast lease, its full circle and all heart. \"Some kids just gotta be different, and some kids just gotta be Doseone.\" - Vice
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Thomas Moore
Thomas Moore (1779-1852) Irish poet, friend of Lord Byron and P.B. Shelley. Moore\'s writings range from lyric to satire, from prose romance to history and biography. His popular IRISH MELODIES appeared in ten parts between 1807 and 1835. Moore was a good musician and skillful writer of songs, which he set to Irish tunes, mainly of the 18th century. \'Tis the last rose of summer, Left blooming alone; All her lovely companions Are faded and gone. (from \'The Last Rose of Summer\') } Thomas Moore was born in Dublin as the son of a grocer. His background was poor and he never varnished it. In his poem \'Epitaph on a Tuft-Hunter\' he mocked snobbery: \"Heaven grant him now some noble nook / For, rest his soul! he\'d rather be / Genteelly damn\'d beside a Duke, / Than sav\'d in vulgar company.\" Moore studied at Trinity College, Dublin and London, and published his first book, THE POETICAL WORKS OF THOMAS LITTLE, in 1801. He became in 1803 a civil officer to Bermuda, where he stayed for a...
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JKJohn Keats
John Keats was born on 31 October 1795 (probably), first child of Thomas Keats and Frances Jennings Keats, who had apparently eloped1. Everything was pretty ordinary for all concerned for a while--the Keatses had three more sons (George and Thomas, plus Edward who died as a baby) and one daughter, Frances, by 1803. That was also the year when John went away to school at Enfield. In 1804, John\'s father was killed in a fall from a horse. Just over two months later, for mysterious reasons, Frances remarried, to a London bank clerk named William Rawlings. Frances quickly decided she\'d made some sort of terrible error and left, taking nothing with her since the laws of the time decreed that all her property and even her children belonged to her husband. Frances\' mother, Alice, swept in and took custody of the children, but she could do nothing about the Swan and Hoop, which Rawlings sold immediately before disappearing. It was around this time that John became prone to fistfights, which...
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AFAlan Dean Foster
Born in New York City in 1946, Foster was raised in Los Angeles. After receiving a Bachelor\'s Degree in Political Science and a Master of Fine Arts in Cinema from UCLA (1968, l969) he spent two years as a copywriter for a small Studio City, Calif. advertising and public relations firm. His writing career began when August Derleth bought a long Lovecraftian letter of Foster\'s in 1968 and much to Foster\'s surprise, published it as a short story in Derleth\'s bi-annual magazine The Arkham Collector. Sales of short fiction to other magazines followed. His first attempt at a novel, The Tar-Aiym Krang, was bought by Betty Ballantine and published by Ballantine Books in 1972. It incorporates a number of suggestions from famed SF editor John W. Campbell. Since then, Foster\'s sometimes humorous, occasionally poignant, but always entertaining short fiction has appeared in all the major SF magazines as well as in original anthologies and several \"Best of the Year\" compendiums. His...
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WBWilly Breinholst
Willy Breinholst (born 27 June 1918) is a Danish author, screenwriter, and humorist born in Fredensborg, Denmark. Occupation Author Screenwriter Humorist Willy Breinholst is the only humorous writer on Earth whose books have been on German bestseller lists for more than 450 weeks ! He has had five of his books on the SPIEGEL top-ten list in the same week - a world record accepted by GUINNESS! It is no wonder that Breinholst-books are published in over a 100 countries. Willy Breinholst’s books are read all over the World from the Republic of South Africa and Australia to Siberia, Greenland and Iceland in the North. He has been awarded the Lübbe Ehrenpreis for 4.000.000 sold Lübbe-books. He has been awarded the Danish Humorist Prize, the Carl Möller Prize, the Bulgarian Hitar-Peter Medal and the Icelandic Heimaey Medal for his books. Other recipients of the Icelandic Heimaey Medal have been the Icelandic president, the Nobel Prize winner Halldor Laxness – and Bing Crosby! The Danish...
3 poezii, 0 proze
It\'s all forgotten now
de Andrei Dumitrescu
Metallic wings and magic rings, It\'s all forgotten now... Blitzkriegs and serpent dreams, it\'s all forgotten now... Death and honor and seeings on higher grounds, all forgotten now... Bloody swords...
Dracula
de Bram Stoker
Chapter 13 - Dr. Seward\'s Diary The funeral was arranged for the next succeeding day, so that Lucy and her mother might be buried together. I attended to all the ghastly formalities, and the urbane...
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To finally know how little I meant to you to know the choice was made before I began my plea to understand that there was never a chance that is the final hammer strike. Words you think I use them...
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de Bram Stoker
Chapter 21 - Dr. Seward\'s Diary 3 October. Let me put down with exactness all that happened, as well as I can remember it, since last I made an entry. Not a detail that I can recall must be...
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de T.S. Eliot
I Because I do not hope to turn again Because I do not hope Because I do not hope to turn Desiring this man\'s gift and that man\'s scope I no longer strive to strive towards such things (Why should...
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The October night evaded from my past Searching for something too big to grasp It made me wonder what was the point of it all Why go to sleep if you do not want to fall? The October night, so cold,...
A lung-full
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The drops of rain sparkle ruby and turn to blood falling down my chest, on my face, onto dirt. The same soul that once hated the eerie storm now drops down in the puddle of blood in ecstasy blending...
Chase your song
de Florea Ana-Maria
It was raining, again- it was normal and expected. Thoughts were sailing through the rain, trying not to get wet, not to be stopped by the strong,wicked clouds. It was the kind of night in which you...
Athanasia
de Oscar Wilde
To that gaunt House of Art which lacks for naught Of all the great things men have saved from Time, The withered body of a girl was brought Dead ere the world\'s glad youth had touched its prime, And...
Silence
de oana stanescu
I seem to have forgotten that Tomorrow is just another yesterday And that my tears Have already dried out My cry Seems so useless Like begging mercy To a cruel tyrant Who will have his way Anyway And...