A Lyrical Discussion (lyrics, genre, American, quote, bands)

**right-track** · 01-21-2007, 04:25 PM

Poetry...Manc stylie.

The Day My Pad Went MAD

I'm ankle deep in human waste
the toilet has been clogged
marrowbone jelly all over the place
I don't even have a dog
the man upstairs he grabs my arm
saying don't I know your dad
all I could hear were the fire alarms
the day my pad went MAD

all I could hear were the fire alarms
the day my pad went MAD

The kitchen has been ransacked
ski trails in the hall
a chicken has been dansacked
and thrown against the wall
in walks this dumb waiter
with a fountain pen and pad
saying how do you want this alligator
the day my pad went MAD

saying how do you want this alligator
the day my pad went MAD

The hamster had been slaugtered
the parrot bound and gagged
the guard dog had been sorted out
and absolutely shagged
the goldfish drowned, the cat was found
kicked around and stabbed
the radio did not make a sound
the day my pad went MAD

the radio did not make a sound
the day my pad went MAD

the pop-up toaster refused to pop
the chandelier was smashed
the starter motor would not stop
the tyres had been slashed
there was no way out of there
I was stuck with what I had
out of order, beyond repair
the day my pad went MAD

out of order, beyond repair
the day my pad went MAD

yesterday I had the place rewired
and slung out all of my junk
a tumble dryer and a two bar fire
and a telephone now defunct
I peeped through the venetian blinds
and the rain fell down so sad
on the broken home I left behind
the day my pad went MAD

on the broken home I left behind
the day my pad went MAD

John Cooper Clarke.

Stu · 01-21-2007, 04:36 PM

i love wilde ethan. some poetry london stylie especially for RT

London
I wander thro' each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

In every cry of every Man,
In every Infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forg'd manacles I hear.

How the Chimney-sweeper's cry
Every black'ning Church appalls;
And the hapless Soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls.

But most thro' midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlot's curse
Blasts the new born Infant's tear,
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.

William Blake.

Stu · 01-21-2007, 04:44 PM

Also, if unfamiliar, you guys you should check out Thomas Chattertons work. He committed suicide at the age of only 17 in the late 1700s but was already renowned for his genius - he became a huge influence on the latter romantic movement.

**right-track** · 01-21-2007, 04:49 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by LedZepStu

Also, if unfamiliar, you guys you should check out Thomas Chattertons work. He committed suicide at the age of only 17 in the late 1700s but was already renowned for his genius - he became a huge influence on the latter romantic movement.

Sounds fascinating ^ will check that out.

Apologies for more Manc verse...

Manchester by Carole Houlston

High rising
Energising
Spirit raising
Flag waving
Lowry-loving
Boundry shoving
Cottonmilled
Fountain-filled
Sculpture clad
Football mad
Rainwashed
Canal-crossed
Night clubbing
Shoulder rubbing
Cultureshocked
Bomb-rocked
Unbroken
Outspoken
Manchester

Hard by Flic Everett

Hard is the word. The streets, the rain, the faces
The shouting in the night, the neon, dangerous places.
They grow up tough; no quarter asked or given
In Manchester, this concrete piece of heaven.

In the Rain by Mike Duff

I don't care if you're black, chinese white or tan
Don't care if you're old, gay, a woman or man
You can sit down next to me
If you're Mancunian.

**sleepy jack** · 02-11-2007, 02:56 PM

I came upon a doctor
Who appeared in quite poor health
I said, "There's nothing I can do for you
You can't do for yourself"
He said, "Oh, yes you can, just hold my hand
I think that that would help"
So I sat with him a while
And I asked him how he felt
He said, "I think I'm cured
No, in fact I'm sure of it
Thank you stranger
For your theraputic smile"

Best verse ever? Yes.

Stu · 02-13-2007, 07:17 PM

I officially have a new favourite poet.

Robert Frost

'Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening'

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though,
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sounds the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

"The Road Not Taken"

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Loser · 02-13-2007, 07:23 PM

I'm not a big fan of robert frost, I like to read his work but not one of my favs. My favorite poet is Edgar Allen Poe especially his work Annabell Lee, and The Raven.

Stu · 02-13-2007, 07:28 PM

My second favourite poet

i listed my favourite works of Poe earlier in this thread. i just love how frosts work upon fitst glance seems so simplistic and barren of any real hidden meaning, yet upon reflection its so philosophical and deep - the first is telling you that, though times may be dark and unwelcoming, you have responsibilities, you cant just give up on life. Whilst the second is telling the reader to forge their own path in life and take no notice of the paths others have taken. thats my interpretations anyway.

Loser · 02-13-2007, 07:31 PM

I agree totally. The Road Not Taken was the first poem I read by Frost and I loved the way he uses words. He just can use them and give the reader either a great image or a great message he is a great poet no one can deny that.

Crowe · 02-13-2007, 09:34 PM

Gimme Poe or Tennessee Williams (that's right, the playwright)

One of my favorite poems from Night of the Iguana:

How calmly does the olive branch
Observe the sky begin to blanch
Without a cry, without a prayer
With no betrayal of despair

Some time while light obscures the tree
The zenith of its life will be
Gone past forever
And from thence
A second history will commence

A chronicle no longer gold
A bargaining with mist and mold
And finally the broken stem
The plummeting to earth, and then

And intercourse not well designed
For beings of a golden kind
Whose native green must arch above
The earth's obscene corrupting love

And still the ripe fruit and the branch
Observe the sky begin to blanch
Without a cry, without a prayer
With no betrayal of despair

Oh courage! Could you not as well
Select a second place to dwell
Not only in that golden tree
But in the frightened heart of me

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01-21-2007, 04:25 PM
right-track Avin' It! Join Date: May 2005 Location: THE PEOPLES ЯEPUBLIK ФF MAИCUИIA Posts: 5,287	Poetry...Manc stylie. The Day My Pad Went MAD I'm ankle deep in human waste the toilet has been clogged marrowbone jelly all over the place I don't even have a dog the man upstairs he grabs my arm saying don't I know your dad all I could hear were the fire alarms the day my pad went MAD all I could hear were the fire alarms the day my pad went MAD The kitchen has been ransacked ski trails in the hall a chicken has been dansacked and thrown against the wall in walks this dumb waiter with a fountain pen and pad saying how do you want this alligator the day my pad went MAD saying how do you want this alligator the day my pad went MAD The hamster had been slaugtered the parrot bound and gagged the guard dog had been sorted out and absolutely shagged the goldfish drowned, the cat was found kicked around and stabbed the radio did not make a sound the day my pad went MAD the radio did not make a sound the day my pad went MAD the pop-up toaster refused to pop the chandelier was smashed the starter motor would not stop the tyres had been slashed there was no way out of there I was stuck with what I had out of order, beyond repair the day my pad went MAD out of order, beyond repair the day my pad went MAD yesterday I had the place rewired and slung out all of my junk a tumble dryer and a two bar fire and a telephone now defunct I peeped through the venetian blinds and the rain fell down so sad on the broken home I left behind the day my pad went MAD on the broken home I left behind the day my pad went MAD John Cooper Clarke. __________________ Choose Liverpool. Choose the dole queue. Choose to scam disability benefit. Choose mind-numbing, grinding efficiency over flair. Choose Torben Piechnik, Istvan Kozma and Paul Stewart. Choose not to win a single league title since the backpass rule was implemented. Choose penalties. Choose car stereos, hubcaps and stanley knives. Choose to trade on your proud sense of tradition and then not lift a finger in protest when two American billionaires who don't even know the name of your club decide to buy it. Choose to win the European Cup whilst only having to play seven matches. Choose to bask in a perpetual, sickening, media love-in. Choose celebrities who ** off out of your city as soon as they have earned the money to do so and then spend the rest of their lives harping on about how wonderful it is. Choose to sing about Munich until confronted with your own tragedy. Choose to end it all in an orgy of self pity, just another excuse to perpetuate the grief culture spawned by your selfish, insular **ed-up excuse for a city. Choose your future. Choose Scouse.

01-21-2007, 04:36 PM
Stu Music Addict Join Date: Nov 2004 Location: London, England Posts: 3,157	i love wilde ethan. some poetry london stylie especially for RT London I wander thro' each charter'd street, Near where the charter'd Thames does flow, And mark in every face I meet Marks of weakness, marks of woe. In every cry of every Man, In every Infant's cry of fear, In every voice, in every ban, The mind-forg'd manacles I hear. How the Chimney-sweeper's cry Every black'ning Church appalls; And the hapless Soldier's sigh Runs in blood down Palace walls. But most thro' midnight streets I hear How the youthful Harlot's curse Blasts the new born Infant's tear, And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse. William Blake.

01-21-2007, 04:44 PM
Stu Music Addict Join Date: Nov 2004 Location: London, England Posts: 3,157	Also, if unfamiliar, you guys you should check out Thomas Chattertons work. He committed suicide at the age of only 17 in the late 1700s but was already renowned for his genius - he became a huge influence on the latter romantic movement.

02-11-2007, 02:56 PM
sleepy jack Bone Machine Join Date: Nov 2004 Location: Jesusland Posts: 17,373	I came upon a doctor Who appeared in quite poor health I said, "There's nothing I can do for you You can't do for yourself" He said, "Oh, yes you can, just hold my hand I think that that would help" So I sat with him a while And I asked him how he felt He said, "I think I'm cured No, in fact I'm sure of it Thank you stranger For your theraputic smile" Best verse ever? Yes. __________________ You're so evil and I'm so good, I'll make it up to you someday.

02-13-2007, 07:17 PM
Stu Music Addict Join Date: Nov 2004 Location: London, England Posts: 3,157	I officially have a new favourite poet. Robert Frost 'Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening' Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though, He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sounds the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep. "The Road Not Taken" Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

02-13-2007, 07:23 PM
Loser The Professor Join Date: Jan 2007 Location: New York City Posts: 1,138	I'm not a big fan of robert frost, I like to read his work but not one of my favs. My favorite poet is Edgar Allen Poe especially his work Annabell Lee, and The Raven. __________________ "It's just so fuckin' weird. You write about this shit, and you're suddenly the spokesman for a fuckin' generation,...... Any generation that would pick Kurt or me as its spokesman -- that must be a pretty fucked up generation, don't you think?"

02-13-2007, 07:28 PM
Stu Music Addict Join Date: Nov 2004 Location: London, England Posts: 3,157	My second favourite poet i listed my favourite works of Poe earlier in this thread. i just love how frosts work upon fitst glance seems so simplistic and barren of any real hidden meaning, yet upon reflection its so philosophical and deep - the first is telling you that, though times may be dark and unwelcoming, you have responsibilities, you cant just give up on life. Whilst the second is telling the reader to forge their own path in life and take no notice of the paths others have taken. thats my interpretations anyway.

02-13-2007, 07:31 PM
Loser The Professor Join Date: Jan 2007 Location: New York City Posts: 1,138	I agree totally. The Road Not Taken was the first poem I read by Frost and I loved the way he uses words. He just can use them and give the reader either a great image or a great message he is a great poet no one can deny that. __________________ "It's just so fuckin' weird. You write about this shit, and you're suddenly the spokesman for a fuckin' generation,...... Any generation that would pick Kurt or me as its spokesman -- that must be a pretty fucked up generation, don't you think?"

02-13-2007, 09:34 PM
Crowe Music Addict Join Date: Dec 2005 Location: Chicago/St. Louie Posts: 715	Gimme Poe or Tennessee Williams (that's right, the playwright) One of my favorite poems from Night of the Iguana: How calmly does the olive branch Observe the sky begin to blanch Without a cry, without a prayer With no betrayal of despair Some time while light obscures the tree The zenith of its life will be Gone past forever And from thence A second history will commence A chronicle no longer gold A bargaining with mist and mold And finally the broken stem The plummeting to earth, and then And intercourse not well designed For beings of a golden kind Whose native green must arch above The earth's obscene corrupting love And still the ripe fruit and the branch Observe the sky begin to blanch Without a cry, without a prayer With no betrayal of despair Oh courage! Could you not as well Select a second place to dwell Not only in that golden tree But in the frightened heart of me __________________ My silly experimental band: www.myspace.com/boyfromthestarsmusic