Smells Like White Spirit by littlegreenbook, literature
Literature
Smells Like White Spirit
Smells Like White Spirit
(sing along to 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' by Nirvana)
With sealant guns and two strange friends
You think we work, we just pretend
It's all a fraud, we're not insured
Oh No - have you just overheard?
How low, how low, how low will we go?
How low, how low, how low will we go?
How low, how low, how low will we go?
How low, how low, how low!
With a paintbrush, we're just dangerous
We're the dodgy decorators
We'll be happy, once you've paid us
We're the dodgy decorators
Crack-ed plaster
We can master
Dodgy paintwork
Makes you more work
Yay!
We do our worst, never our best
'Cos talent we have not bee
Religious hate of jealous pride
The strong committed genocide
The waste of life, the human tide
Of dead bodies float through the night
Through it all, our time we bide
Wait for the right time to strike
Then in we go one simple stride
Attack forthwith but hurt both sides
We went for good, we made it worse
And thats why all the old men curse
That war
Destruction on a global scale
Opponents all locked up in jail
A brand new war where daddy failed
A new set of orphans to wail
The reasons covered by a veil
A flimsy WMD tail
Excuses given have gone stale
As more and more coffins are nailed
The traffic jam, another hearse
A
Counting for Nothing by tightwhitepants, literature
Literature
Counting for Nothing
Fourteen hundred paces wasted
walking to your door,
and every time a pointless pounding
headache - sore, resounding, raw;
what follows next? as you'd expect
a shocking exhibition of
that bloody mix of tears
and spit and semen spilled
across this gritty floor.
and from the day that we last spoke
I've counted twenty-four.
How come I'm your ignored -
you must have grown so bored of me
and now my fingers, gnawed and nails all bitten
paw through scores
of letters better left unwritten -
never sent, now torn and scattered, littered
with my bitter thoughts unuttered,
so utterly distraught I am, I poured a litany of scorn
and lo
"Goodbye" is such a cheerless word, the heartsick's grieved farewell,
The acrid taste of distance come to tear the joy away
From all that you have seen and heard, as many come to tell--
For all that's left is horrid numb; the world is painted grey.
They say the sign for love is found, a single blood-red rose,
But I, I know, there's nothing quite the anguish, quite the pain,
Resplendent 'midst the thorny ground, and wretched in repose--
There's no such thing as starry nights and glasses of champagne.
For love is bittersweet, and though the world may soon forget,
We only reap what we have sown, no greater truth we'll find.
It's easier
I'm playing hide and seek with God
He hasn't found me yet
He counted to infinity
And didn't break a sweat
If you were me, where would you hide
What tiny sinful nook...
Where's the place, upon this earth,
Where God won't think to look?
First I hid behind a stone
Too big for God to move
He hoisted it above my head
With not a thing to prove
I realized that God could see
Where I would choose to go
The future is an easy thing
For omnipotence to know
So then I thought about my will
It seems that fate is bound
How am I supposed to hide
When I'm already found?
Then I thought about the souls
Of everything on earth
I thought of
The witch Baba Yaga once baked herself bread
out of spiders and liars and red razorwire
that was garnished with flowers from the vaults of the dead,
and sweetened with lye from a childs funeral pyre.
It was light as the crisp, cracking bones on the fields
and as sharp to the taste as the ash-scattered shards
that were all that remains of the swords and the shields
of the warrior king and his bold bodyguards.
In a chicken leg hovel at the edge of a wood
the witch Baba Yaga licks the dregs from the spoons
that she used to stir soup, spiced and thickened with blood
that the dying ones spilt from their widowing wounds.
But her
A Lifetime Waiting:
By Robin Nederlof.
Eyes like ocean blue.
A body beyond my wildest dream.
The first time I saw you.
I told myself, I had never seen.
Butterflies inside of me.
You just aren't from this planet.
How come you are all I see.
While you are so far out of my league, damn it!
Even if I would be surrounded.
By thousands of women who look so pretty.
I would still pick you out of it.
Because you are the only one I see.
Rejected again and again.
I guess I was never in your plan.
For another man you fell.
And turned my life into a hell.
He had everything I didn't have.
A pretty face and a great voice.
My
A summit, on a mountain high,
Where many climb, and many die.
A challenge placed upon the land,
Where all the heroes come to stand.
But far below the stormy peak
There's a little frozen creek.
Chilly earth meets frozen grass,
Where every hero has to pass.
Right here is the perfect place
To look upon the mountain's face
And bite your lip, or bow your head
And see the daunting climb ahead.
Get your drive, and get it here
Get the nerve, and lose the fear
And by the time you have begun
You'll know the hardest part is done
Up there, by that tattered post,
Lurks the famous mountain ghost.
He talks all the hopeful souls
Out of