Monday 27 September 2010
Sunday 26 September 2010
Lyrics of the day
When the leaves have fallen from the last live tree
Will you still be calling with a song for me
When the rocks are empty of the gold we seek
Will you give me reason reason to move my feet
When the disillusioned are cleaned off the streets
Will you clean my shirt and hide me from police
When I no longer follow another mans beliefs
Will you walk with me when I'm on my own two feet
When we've finally poisoned every last threatening beast
Will you make my heart pound and shake up my beliefs
When each lock is picked and posession means to lose
Will we sleep sound while the rich shake in their shoes
Until they learn to sing the blues
When the dogs are called off on their search for truth
Will you sit with me while they howl what's the use
When the ocean swallows up the priests on higher ground
Will you swim with me my love deep into the sound
Will you still be calling with a song for me
When the rocks are empty of the gold we seek
Will you give me reason reason to move my feet
When the disillusioned are cleaned off the streets
Will you clean my shirt and hide me from police
When I no longer follow another mans beliefs
Will you walk with me when I'm on my own two feet
When we've finally poisoned every last threatening beast
Will you make my heart pound and shake up my beliefs
When each lock is picked and posession means to lose
Will we sleep sound while the rich shake in their shoes
Until they learn to sing the blues
When the dogs are called off on their search for truth
Will you sit with me while they howl what's the use
When the ocean swallows up the priests on higher ground
Will you swim with me my love deep into the sound
Saturday 25 September 2010
Saturday 18 September 2010
Friday 17 September 2010
Poem of the Day
Not Waving But Drowning
Stevie Smith
Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.
Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.
Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.
Stevie Smith
Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.
Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.
Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.
Thursday 16 September 2010
Wednesday 15 September 2010
Sunday 12 September 2010
Friday 10 September 2010
Tuesday 7 September 2010
Monday 6 September 2010
Sunday 5 September 2010
Saturday 4 September 2010
Friday 3 September 2010
Thursday 2 September 2010
Poem of the Day
This Be The Verse
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.
--Philip Larkin
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.
--Philip Larkin
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