"Forgive them Father"
By : Lauryn Hill
--on the "Miseducation of Lauryn Hill" album
*i have been goin through a serious Lauryn Hill phase lately...she just truley speakin to me right now*
Forgive Them Father - Lauryn Hill
Monday, November 16, 2009
Once By The Pacific
By : Robert Lee Frost
The shattered water made a misty din.
Great waves looked over others coming in,
And thought of doing something to the shore
That water never did to land before.
The clouds were low and hairy in the skies,
Like locks blown forward in the gleam of eyes.
You could not tell, and yet it looked as if
The shore was lucky in being backed by cliff,
The cliff in being backed by continent;
It looked as if a night of dark intent
Was coming, and not only a night, an age.
Someone had better be prepared for rage.
There would be more than ocean-water broken
Before God’s last *Put out the Light* was spoken.
The shattered water made a misty din.
Great waves looked over others coming in,
And thought of doing something to the shore
That water never did to land before.
The clouds were low and hairy in the skies,
Like locks blown forward in the gleam of eyes.
You could not tell, and yet it looked as if
The shore was lucky in being backed by cliff,
The cliff in being backed by continent;
It looked as if a night of dark intent
Was coming, and not only a night, an age.
Someone had better be prepared for rage.
There would be more than ocean-water broken
Before God’s last *Put out the Light* was spoken.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Nothing
By : Jorge Carrera Andrade
In bookstores there are no books,
In books no words,
In words no essence:
There are only husks.
In museums and waiting rooms
Are painted canvases and fetishes.
In the Academy there are only recordings
Of the wildest dances.
In mouths there is only smoke,
In the eyes only distance.
There is a drum in each ear.
A Sahara yawns in the mind.
Nothing frees us from the desert.
Nothing saves us from the drum.
Painted books shed their pages,
Becoming husks of Nothing.
In bookstores there are no books,
In books no words,
In words no essence:
There are only husks.
In museums and waiting rooms
Are painted canvases and fetishes.
In the Academy there are only recordings
Of the wildest dances.
In mouths there is only smoke,
In the eyes only distance.
There is a drum in each ear.
A Sahara yawns in the mind.
Nothing frees us from the desert.
Nothing saves us from the drum.
Painted books shed their pages,
Becoming husks of Nothing.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Enjoy The Sun
This song makes me smile! =)
Theophilus London
-Off the "This Charming Man" album
Enjoy the Sun - Theophilus London
Theophilus London
-Off the "This Charming Man" album
Enjoy the Sun - Theophilus London
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