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This Be The Verse by 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.

Words I live by.

[Edit: Removed stupid italic tag glitch.]
Post edited August 19, 2014 by Getcomposted
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awalterj:
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Tarnicus: Thanks for sharing that :) I have a friend who named their son Rumi, and have never gotten around to reading his works. Nice synchronicity with my own personal journey too :)
You're welcome! Whenever I read Rumi, my impressions vary from "no shit, Sherlock...tell me something I don't know, Mr. Captain Obvious" to "Whoa, this is so simple that it's deep".

Rumi is kind of a medieval oriental hippie / Jedi master who tells you to be one with the Force and that it's all about love. Easy to understand at first glance but I believe it takes a lifetime to live it when under pressure and to not start thinking like this.
This is how the world ends, not with a bang, but with a whimper.

Such a haunting line...I like it :D

Also,

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Post edited August 19, 2014 by CthuluIsSpy
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
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TekZero: Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
Robert Frost. Nice. I'd prefer ice if the world were to end.
Here's another by Frost..

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 sound’s 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.


And another American Poet - Poe -

Annabel Lee - performed by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5wiht2flrcs
Post edited August 19, 2014 by TekZero
I like light-hearted poetry which are fun to read out loud, for example:

The Sitter and the Butter and the Better Batter Fritter by Dennis Lee

My little sister's sitter
Got a cutter from the baker,
And she baked a little fritter
From a pat of bitter butter.
First she bought a butter beater
Just to beat the butter better,
And she beat the bit of butter
With the beater that she bought.

Then she cut the bit of butter
With the little butter cutter,
And she baked the beaten butter
In a beaten butter baker.
But the butter was too bitter
And she couldn't eat the fritter
So she set it by the cutter
And the beater that she bought.

And I guess it must have taught her
Not to use such bitter butter,
For she bought a bit of batter
That was sweeter than the butter.
And she cut the sweeter batter
With the cutter, and she beat her
Sweeter batter with a sweeter batter
Beater that she bought.

Then she baked a batter fritter
That was better than the butter
And she ate the better batter fritter
Just like that.

But while the better batter
Fritter sat inside the sitter -
Why, the little bitter fritter
Made of bitter butter bit her,
Bit my little sister's sitter
Till she simply disappeared.

Then my sister came to meet her
But she couldn't see the sitter -
She just saw the bitter butter
Fritter that had gone and et her;
So she ate the butter fritter
With a teaspoonful of jam.

Now my sister has a bitter
Butter fritter sitting in her,
And a sitter in the bitter
Butter fritter, since it ate her,
And a better batter fritter
Sitting in the silly sitter
In the bitter butter fritter
Sitting in my sister's tum.
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Ragnarblackmane:
This poem brings back so many memories of an old English professor I knew. I had sent you a message about the poem via PM but it seems not to have sent (tried several times) so I will try again later.
Maybe not really poetry but I'm always moved by the lyrics in Mozart's works. It's stuff the average person can relate to.

Lick my ass nicely,
lick it nice and clean,
nice and clean, lick my ass.
That's a greasy desire,
nicely buttered,
like the licking of roast meat, my daily activity.
Three will lick more than two,
come on, just try it,
and lick, lick, lick.
Everybody lick their ass for themselves.

not to mention

Lick me in the ass quickly, quickly
Lick in the ass quickly,
Lick me, lick me
Quickly

It's the original lyrics for two of his compositions, I shit you not.
Post edited August 21, 2014 by F4LL0UT
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Getcomposted: This Be The Verse by Philip Larkin

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
*snip*
This reminds me of the song James Hetfield wrote regarding his parents, that was one of my angry releases when I was a teenager. Yesterday was the first time I cried to the song rather than get angry. I guess with age and a little understanding, I am starting to see things in a different light.

Dyer's Eve
by Metallica(written by James Hetfield)


Dear Mother, dear Father
What is this hell you have put me through?
Believer, deceiver
Day in, day out, live my life through you
Pushed onto me what's wrong or right
Hidden from this thing that they call life

Dear Mother, dear Father
Every thought I'd think you'd disapprove
Curator, dictator
Always censoring my every move
Children are seen but are not heard
Tear out everything inspired

Innocence, torn from me without your shelter
Barred reality, I'm living blindly

Dear Mother, dear Father
Time has frozen still, what's left to be
Hear nothing, say nothing
Cannot face the fact I think for me
No guarantee, it's life as is
But damn you for not giving me my chance

Dear Mother, dear Father
You clipped my wings before I learnt to fly
Unspoiled, unspoken
I've outgrown that fucking lullaby
Same thing I've always heard from you
Do as I say, not as I do

Innocence, torn from me without your shelter
Barred reality, I'm living blindly

I'm in hell without you
Cannot cope without you two
Shocked at the world that I see
Innocent victim please rescue me

Dear Mother, dear Father
Hidden in your world you've made for me
I'm seething, I'm bleeding
Ripping wounds in me that never heal
Undying spite, I feel for you
Living out this hell you always knew
Post edited August 21, 2014 by Tarnicus
As the morning sunlight,
Shimmered through the trees,
A green clad elfin ranger,
Wandered in the breeze.

Agile and graceful,
With flowing golden hair,
He tracked the open woodland,
Without a mortal care.

His eyes of burning starlight,
Pierced the leafy shade,
And in his hand, a silver bow,
Glistened in the glade.

He hunted in the wood grove,
Where the sleepy willows dream,
Drifting through the brushwood,
Along a shallow winding stream.

Then as the light began to dim,
And the wind began to sigh,
He lingered in the fading sun,
Beneath the sweeping sky.

And in the still of a starlit night,
In the solace of the breeze,
He mellowed in the moonlight,
As the stars caressed the trees.
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F4LL0UT: Maybe not really poetry but I'm always moved by the lyrics in Mozart's works. It's stuff the average person can related to.

Lick my ass nicely,
lick it nice and clean,
nice and clean, lick my ass.
That's a greasy desire,
nicely buttered,
like the licking of roast meat, my daily activity.
Three will lick more than two,
come on, just try it,
and lick, lick, lick.
Everybody lick their ass for themselves.

not to mention

Lick me in the ass quickly, quickly
Lick in the ass quickly,
Lick me, lick me
Quickly

It's the original lyrics for two of his compositions, I shit you not.
Charming lyrics indeed, I just made a post about this wonderful piece of music two days ago:
http://www.gog.com/forum/general/what_are_you_listening_to_at_present/post2258
I was thinking about this poem the other day for some reason:

We Real Cool
Gwendolyn Brooks, 1917 - 2000

THE POOL PLAYERS.
SEVEN AT THE GOLDEN SHOVEL.



We real cool. We
Left school. We

Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We
Die soon.

-Gwendolyn Brooks, 1917 - 2000
I can still recite the opening lines from memory. My literature teacher hated that I said this was one of my favourite poems, I think he wanted me to like something with deeper meaning or some such.

[i]On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky.
And through the field the road runs by
To many-towered Camelot.[/i]

EDIT: Is it just me, or are the tags themselves showing instead of the effect?
Post edited August 27, 2014 by babark
From Shelly's 'Ozymandias'... that line is haunting, a perfect summary for the limits of man's foolishness and ego.

"I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away."

Found an old clip of Richard Attenborough reading it (RIP).
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bv2nklTyq9Q
Post edited August 27, 2014 by Emob78