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5496. Ulgine Barrows - 8/13/2005 9:50:08 AM GARBAGE LYRICS
"The Trick Is To Keep Breathing"
She's not the kind of girl
Who likes to tell the world
About the way she feels about herself
She takes a little time in making up her mind
She doesn't want to fight against the tide
And lately I'm not the only one
I say never trust anyone
Always the one who has to drag her down
Maybe you'll get what you want this time around
Can't bear to face the truth
So sick he cannot move
And when it hurts he takes it out on you
And lately I'm not the only one
I say never trust anyone
Always the one who has to drag her down
Maybe you'll get what you want this time around
The trick is to keep breathing
The trick is to keep breathing
She knows the human heart
And how to read the stars
Now everything's about to fall apart
I won't be the one who's going to let you down
Maybe you'll get what you want this time around
I won't be the one who's going to let you down
Maybe you'll get what you want this time around
The trick is to keep breathing
The trick is to keep breathing
The trick is to keep breathing 5497. NuPlanetOne - 8/15/2005 10:27:05 PM Ulgine, I don’t think dread works in that last stanza. The fiddler is most concerned with his inner demons and voices. That is why I think he chooses to fiddle, as all about him his world crashes in. He knows he could run from it all, again. But he has decided it will only follow him no matter where he goes. His ultimate fear was always his dread of accepting that conclusion. It was not the physical sights and sounds he remembered at the last, just the dread he had of facing his sins and inner conclusions, which he could no longer deny. Anyway, I think that’s what it was about for the most part.
BTW….
Raillery Rhymes.
I fear you are mistaken Ulgine about raillery
Although even searching google and sailory
I could only find the Navy Ship Hailery
And an e-mail company they called Mailery
Or some guy named Mr. Ashton Brailery
And a mountain guy who used the term failery
In not helping his failing Mother from frailery
And it's bad form to use the obvious bailoree
With bailor or jailoree with jailer, you see
But I did find in law for trailer...a traileree
Yet most convincing was the term called tailory
A place where tailors stitch things every dailery
So throw it in the pot at the word pot pailery
Which means they must gut whales at a whalery
And bring all the hay in bales to the balery
And where else to bring snails but the snailery
And for your manicure please go to the nailery
One might go on with this word rhyme for raillery
Until his train of thought has a sudden de-railery
And feel stumped and go pale and look palery
And end up having a stroke or major heart-failery.
My turn to amuse you…….
(…tailory is a listed word in the Scripps National Spelling Bee…I can’t vouch for any of the others though here in N.England the term whalery was common some years ago.)
5498. Ulgine Barrows - 8/19/2005 6:41:06 AM O my, I am so impressed and laughing, NuPlanetOne.
big grin
Thanks.
O, my.
I die. 5499. Ulgine Barrows - 8/19/2005 6:43:02 AM My husband just reminded me that ogden nash wrote the shortest poem:
adam
had 'em
it's a tie! 5500. Ulgine Barrows - 8/19/2005 6:46:55 AM Er...
we have been watching
Crouching Tiger/Hidden dragon
But all through it, my husband has been calling it
Flying Squirrel/Hidden nuts
5501. Ulgine Barrows - 8/19/2005 6:58:58 AM now we are a disagreeing couple.
I think it was
madam i'm adam 5502. Ulgine Barrows - 8/19/2005 9:08:05 AM lightning strike you all
roll your dreams along the thunder
CRASH
into the new day 5503. NuPlanetOne - 8/22/2005 9:51:18 PM Anxious, Thinking Worms
What is this clawing anxiety?
I never felt it before
Why does it just sit there
Like a hot coal in my middle
That’s what makes you ill
Because it can’t be digested
Which is what the body
Does, after all
It is all the body wants
Just more to chew and digest
Somehow our fear of things
Forces the body to turn against
Itself, churn and burn
The stomach over-reacting
Instead of hunger the signal
Is warped. The brain overrides
The senses. We imagine
We are the body and this news
Confuses it. Our grinding
Thoughts force a ceaseless
Secretion of stuff and signals
And the body is defenseless
To sort it out. So it is all
Combined and placed in the belly
While the rest of the body
Is kept from its work.
And as the thoughts continue
The body lays about and waits
And follows us around
It obeys our commands
But in its middle, its power plant
You can feel its discomfort
We think only our thoughts
Are sick. But the body only has
One function, one purpose
While we don’t know our purpose
And our thoughts can override
Our body’s function. I never had
These fears before. A worm
Is only a body with 2 holes
One hole to bring stuff in the body
A long tube to digest, and
One hole to pass out waste
We think we aren’t worms
We think we are more than long tubes
But the body can’t digest anxiety
And that is what the body does
After all.
5504. Ulgine Barrows - 8/23/2005 8:04:08 AM Wow, that's a good title for that poem!
I like how it starts out really strong:
Why does it just sit there
Like a hot coal in my middle
That’s what makes you ill
Because it can’t be digested
I don't get the part about the body having only one function, though. 5505. Ulgine Barrows - 8/23/2005 8:05:13 AM "New Slang"
Gold teeth and a curse for this town were all in my mouth.
Only, i don't know how they got out, dear.
Turn me back into the pet that i was when we met.
I was happier then with no mind-set.
And if you'd 'a took to me like
A gull takes to the wind.
Well, i'd 'a jumped from my tree
And i'd a danced like the king of the eyesores
And the rest of our lives would 'a fared well.
New slang when you notice the stripes, the dirt in your fries.
Hope it's right when you die, old and bony.
Dawn breaks like a bull through the hall,
Never should have called
But my head's to the wall and i'm lonely.
And if you'd 'a took to me like
A gull takes to the wind.
Well, i'd 'a jumped from my tree
And i'd a danced like the kind of the eyesores
And the rest of our lives would 'a fared well.
God speed all the bakers at dawn may they all cut their thumbs,
And bleed into their buns 'till they melt away.
I'm looking in on the good life i might be doomed never to find.
Without a trust or flaming fields am i too dumb to refine?
And if you'd 'a took to me like
Well i'd a danced like the queen of the eyesores
And the rest of our lives would 'a fared well. 5506. Ulgine Barrows - 8/23/2005 8:07:12 AM I really like that, it's from The Shins and I heard it when I was watching Garden State. 5507. Ulgine Barrows - 9/13/2005 8:52:23 AM faded Persian
once deep red
decomposed into
a wan maroon
~with thanks to Ellis Weiner 5508. NuPlanetOne - 10/2/2005 2:03:50 AM The Mock Sneer
I’m sorry. How did I know
Twenty-five years would pass
I can see you snarling
From time to time
Darling, in that mock menace
Because you were
Laughing at me
Taking myself seriously
Deliriously in love
I was with you
I found your grave
And sat there
Only we knew
Didn’t we, about that year
We crept behind the backs
Of everyone, tracks
In the sand on Wallaston beach
And each time I held you
We glistened
I don’t know why
I still miss you
So much passed between us
That day on your deathbed
We lived a long life together
In each other’s eyes
I despise that I’m still here
I’m sorry that I did go on
But I see you
Clear as day, snarling
Darling.
5509. Seamus - 10/6/2005 10:25:41 PM I quite like that, Nu.
And each time I held you
We glistened
is luminous.
It very much reminds me, and in a happy way, of something else you did a couple of years ago.5510. arkymalarky - 10/6/2005 11:29:05 PM SEAMUS!!! It's so great to see you in here! 5511. judithathome - 10/6/2005 11:58:26 PM NuPlanet....absolutely beautiful. 5512. Macnas - 10/7/2005 9:56:09 AM Seamus
How's things? you might post some verse, b’fhéidir...
5513. Ulgine Barrows - 10/7/2005 10:04:25 AM Didn’t anybody tell her?
Didn’t anybody see? 5514. Macnas - 10/7/2005 10:13:13 AM Sundays on the phone to Monday... 5515. Seamus - 10/7/2005 10:03:29 PM arky, you are so kind. Are you well, happy and busy?
Dia duit Mac.
Cén chaoi a bfhuil tú?
Your "maybe" inspires this:
On the ontology of poetry
(being an autobiographical inscription for the author's cenotaph or a tattoo, whichever comes first)
verse it
may be
but
worse verse it
could not
On the other hand, Mac, your Angst, eh? is fun.
Greetings to judith, Ulgine.
Yo, Rick?
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