Author Topic: Favorite Song Lyrics/Poetry  (Read 81239 times)

Prelate Diogenes Shandor

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Re: Favorite Song Lyrics/Poetry
« Reply #480 on: September 07, 2011, 03:32:54 am »
One of the best lines ever is from the song "We Kill Everything", towards the end, where the singer repeatedly encourages listeners to:

"Dedicate your life to porn!"


(full lyrics:
In hulking halls of hatred where the Master makes his throne
Beyond the "ass"-teroid belt where his body floats alone
his mind begins to wander
the worm begins to turn
all life he must now squander
the universe must burn
He plans eternal war, as the eternal way
But now there is a force - which even he must obey
Time and the events within, chronicles of hate and sin
Everything, it has a start, but the end is always the best part
Our quest - to find the broken bits
Put them back and make them fit
And once that we have read the end
The tablet will blow up again (x4)
And we'll kill everything (x3)
Including ourselves
Summoning the Master
Call his form most vile
Champing mass of questing flesh
Protoplasmic pile
An Ancient hunger, never filled
until the universe is killed
The endless host of merging soul
Sucked into the feeding hole
Gobs and giblets cascade down
Rectal midgets, flattened ground
Please pay attention to the plot
As I kick out this monster's snot
Splitting skulls and breaking ribs,
Trephinated drainage sieve
Protruding mass of reeking bile
Which forms infected booger pile
Assemble now the tablet
Hope that it's not Braille
Bring forth now the Master
So we can end this tale
And we'll kill everything (x3)
Especially ourselves
Transmogrify your plasmic swarm
Evaporate before time's storm
And dedicate your life to porn
And dedicate your life to porn
You think that life has a reason?
You think your god has a soul?
I bare my bum to the heavens
I think your head is a hole.

And we'll kill everything (x3)
Including ourselves )
« Last Edit: September 07, 2011, 03:34:25 am by Prelate Diogenes Shandor »
My name is derived from Diogenes of Sinop, the Cynic/Furry/Counterfeiter/Philosopher of classical Antiquity, and from Ivo Shandor, who tried to summon Gozer the Gozerian to destroy the Earth

"Dedicate your life to porn" -GWAR, We Kill Everything

"Introduce a little anarchy, upset the established order, and everything becomes chaos. I am an agent of chaos"

Thou Shalt Kill Everyone Now. Thou shalt condonbe first-degree murder and advocate cannibalism.
Thou shalt eat shit for the filth is the life and the life is the law. This is the will of the Divine.
-Flamingoes 1:22:50-60

Nothing is good, everything is dismissible

"I have seen all the works that are done under the sun; and, behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit." -Ecclesiastes 1:14

"OF these things ye shall speak, even though they be unspeakable..." -The Prescripture

chimes

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Re: Favorite Song Lyrics/Poetry
« Reply #481 on: September 07, 2011, 03:41:10 am »
An Ancient hunger, never filled

:crankey:



THE HUNGER, IS NEVER FILLING.
                 \
what is this kid talking about?

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Prelate Diogenes Shandor

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Re: Favorite Song Lyrics/Poetry
« Reply #482 on: September 07, 2011, 02:05:40 pm »
At the end of the song "Everybody Rize" by the Insane Clown Posse, you can hear Violent J talking backwards. If you flip it around, he's saying:

"If you flipped this message
Because you think there's some secret message
There ain't shit
"
My name is derived from Diogenes of Sinop, the Cynic/Furry/Counterfeiter/Philosopher of classical Antiquity, and from Ivo Shandor, who tried to summon Gozer the Gozerian to destroy the Earth

"Dedicate your life to porn" -GWAR, We Kill Everything

"Introduce a little anarchy, upset the established order, and everything becomes chaos. I am an agent of chaos"

Thou Shalt Kill Everyone Now. Thou shalt condonbe first-degree murder and advocate cannibalism.
Thou shalt eat shit for the filth is the life and the life is the law. This is the will of the Divine.
-Flamingoes 1:22:50-60

Nothing is good, everything is dismissible

"I have seen all the works that are done under the sun; and, behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit." -Ecclesiastes 1:14

"OF these things ye shall speak, even though they be unspeakable..." -The Prescripture

Iason Ouabache

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Re: Favorite Song Lyrics/Poetry
« Reply #483 on: September 10, 2011, 06:46:59 am »
I usually cannot stand Coldplay, but this song is...fairly indicative of how I have felt of late:

Coldplay - Viva La Vida

I used to rule the world
Seas would rise when I gave the word
Now in the morning I sweep alone
Sweep the streets I used to own

I used to roll the dice
Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes
Listen as the crowd would sing:
"Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!"

One minute I held the key
Next the walls were closed on me
And I discovered that my castles stand
Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand

I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can't explain
Once you go there was never, never an honest word
That was when I ruled the world
(Ohhh)

It was the wicked and wild wind
Blew down the doors to let me in
Shattered windows and the sound of drums
People couldn't believe what I'd become

Revolutionaries wait
For my head on a silver plate
Just a puppet on a lonely string
Oh who would ever want to be king?

I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can't explain
I know Saint Peter will call my name
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world
(Ohhhhh Ohhh Ohhh)

I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can't explain
I know Saint Peter will call my name
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world
Oooooh Oooooh Oooooh


Sorry about digging up something from 2 years ago but I meant to comment on it but kept forgetting. And yeah.. I think I'm secure enough in my manhood to admit that I like Coldplay. Yes, they are hokey and a bit too formulaic but they know how to write a damn good pop song. And I've accidentally gotten my daughter hooked on them (her favorite color is yellow, they have a song called "Yellow". I swear it's not my fault!)

As for this song, they do a good job at latching on to that feeling that every male until he in his mid-to-late 20s thinks he is going to be a rockstar. Or as Neal Stephenson put it:

Quote
"Until a man is twenty-five, he still thinks, every so often, that under the right circumstances he could be the baddest motherfucker in the world. If I moved to a martial-arts monastery in China and studied real hard for ten years. If my family was wiped out by Colombian drug dealers and I swore myself to revenge. If I got a fatal disease, had one year to live, and devoted it to wiping out street crime. If I just dropped out and devoted my life to being bad."

Then at 26, you realize that you are very very average and will never be king.  :kingmeh:
You cannot fathom the immensity of the fuck i do not give.
    \
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Re: Favorite Song Lyrics/Poetry
« Reply #484 on: September 17, 2011, 10:10:19 pm »
On bended knee is no way to be free
lifting up an empty cup I ask silently
that all my destinations will accept the one that's me
so I can breath

Circles they grow and they swallow people whole
half their lives they say goodnight to wive's they'll never know
got a mind full of questions and a teacher in my soul
so it goes...

Don't come closer or I'll have to go
Holding me like gravity are places that pull
If ever there was someone to keep me at home
It would be you...

Everyone I come across in cages they bought
they think of me and my wandering
but I'm never what they thought
got my indignation but I'm pure in all my thoughts
I'm alive...

Wind in my hair, I feel part of everywhere
underneath my being is a road that disappeared
late at night I hear the trees
they're singing with the dead
overhead...

Leave it to me as I find a way to be
consider me a satelite for ever orbiting
I knew all the rules but the rules did not know me
guaranteed...

I just have a real love of this track.

Lenin McCarthy

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Re: Favorite Song Lyrics/Poetry
« Reply #485 on: February 27, 2014, 02:02:00 pm »
WOoOp mega bump!!

Anyway, I have attempted to translate one of my favorite Norwegian poems (by one Hans Børli) into English, for your reading pleasure:

We sit in blue-veiled June eve
and cool ourselves out on the porch
and all we see has double life
because we sense it together.

Look - the forest lake lies shining red
from sunken sunset kingdoms
and shiny as a thing of silver old
is the scream that the loon* makes

And the bird cherry by the fence gate burns
of new-ignited flower clusters
Now they tremble white in a hush of wind
- it is as if something's urgent...

Oh, pull yourself closer to me
here on the kitchen porch!
It is so fadingly short, the time
we humans spend together

*or diver, depending on which side of the Atlantic you're from.

Doktor Skinsaw

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Re: Favorite Song Lyrics/Poetry
« Reply #486 on: February 27, 2014, 06:50:56 pm »
That is beautiful!
“I’m guessing it was January 2007, a meeting in Bethesda, we got a bag of bees and just started smashing them on the desk,” Charles Wick said. “It was very complicated.”

“People get used to anything. The less you think about your oppression, the more your tolerance for it grows. After a while, people just think oppression is the normal state of things. But to become free, you have to be acutely aware of being a slave.”
― Assata Shaku

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Re: Favorite Song Lyrics/Poetry
« Reply #487 on: February 27, 2014, 08:29:55 pm »
Very cool. Thanks for sharing.
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Re: Favorite Song Lyrics/Poetry
« Reply #488 on: August 18, 2014, 11:15:58 am »
So, a number of years ago, a then-girlfriend and I were bored one sleepless night. We made a game of coming up with words that we liked, words that amused us or words that rolled off the tongue and some nonsense words for added spice. She then decided to make a nonsense poem out of the collection of words. The first line of the poem comes from the word "acetaminophen."
 
THE MEN O' FINNE

I see the men o' Finne!
I saw with my own eyes- with this flapper in flare.
worse then the tyranny of the marmoset
worse then the swallow trapped in the thick tartar swamps
worse then the disembowelment of the romping platypus!

These druids, enslaved to the bulbous bouffant
slaved to the crustacean trollops
with their torso backwash squirming into
the crevi of their existence and strife
searching for the creature they called Somniferous
to add what he can to their ..  bouillabaisse de resistance!

take one spoon and you too shall be doing the Charleston-
the coochie coo with a skexsis eating gefling tapioca,
wondering if there is a delicatessen that only serves croissants

and what of the squid and crumpet marching towards you?
their feet like fate! Screaming sphincters!
they will surely ask :
"are you the barracuda? The lupus who watooseyed into the buttocks with your cutlery, and ever sassy glob and charm?"
"No, I am the rump of a dustbunny, mortal and vermilion
I am the frolicking wastrel- the brujah in the rough!"

and you remember an ephemeral sphinx that once told you
it was spontaneity and lies that broke
the asparagus tall like trees-
or was it Nietzche and his temptous spleen,
spewing philosophical hairballs,
like an hysterical weinersnitchtzel, pickle and spam?

no matter
the squid and crumpet are marching closer with their
Celtic leiderhosen wiggling with persnickety!
Their anti feetbed weaponry,
swinging like a giddy orangutan and knoosed swine!

and the fantastical zeppelin
funded by the river Styx,
wiggling through the clouds of Macadamia,
through it's highlandic gazeboes and refined rutabaga cuisine
struck every heart of the enslaved druids
as it crooned the bubonic anthem " Oh plethora! Oh plethora!"

"The crumpets and squid are marching closer
can anything help you now?" screamed the flapper, aware
"this must be THEE large and pendulous haunting fauxpau the Dali Llama spoke of!"

No, in these times of Pneumatic renaissance 
these times of iconhood and the dying rococo
where the cannibals eat the lovecrafts - the toboggans and try to copulate-
it is all a mistake indeed

Schenectady! Infamy!

the squids and crumpets attack you
like the epidermis that smothers the bones ,
And so you die in the arms of the flapper
who slowly whispers "Mered..."
« Last Edit: August 18, 2014, 11:29:02 am by Water Bear Warrior »

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Re: Favorite Song Lyrics/Poetry
« Reply #489 on: September 01, 2014, 01:15:54 pm »
Here's a couple from my favourite post modernist Poet Bob Calvert. Similar I suupose, to Adrian Henri, less bleak perhaps, but with a rare flow, seemingly very loose and freestyle, but deceptively, it's as precise as Iambic pentameter. Enjoy.

Wage War

I would see the city as a mutant among the wonders of the world.
It's chimneys polluting the air.
Its roots poisoning the earth.
It's tentacles setting one man against another
and strangling them both in their hopeless contest.

I would map the cities' highways and tunnels and bridges,
its subways and canals, its neighbourhoods adorned by beautiful homes
filled with priceless objects, rare libraries, and fine rooms.

Its clever networks of pipes and cables and wires under the streets.
Its Police departments and communication stations.
Its hospitals, churches, and temples.
Its administrative buildings crowded with overworked computers,
telephones, and servile clerks.

Then I would wage war against this city as if it were a living body. I would welcome the night - sister of my skin, cousin of my shadow, and have her shelter me and help me in my battle.

I would lift the steel lids from the brothers and drop explosives to the black factories
and then I would run away and hide, waiting for the thunder which would trap, in mute telephone wires,
millions of unheard words.
Which would darken rooms full of white light and fearful people.

I would wait for the midnight storm which whips the streets and blurs all shapes
and I would hold my knife against the back of a doorman,
yawning in his gold braided uniform, and force him to lead me upstairs
where I would plunge my knife into his body.

I would visit the rich, and the comfortable, and the un-aware,
and their last screams would suffocate in their ornate curtains,
or tapestries and priceless carpets.
Their dead bodies pinned down by broken statues
would be gazed upon by slashed family portraits.

Then I would run to the highways and speedways that surge forward towards the city.
I would have with me bags full of bent nails to empty on the asphalt.
I would wait for the dawn to see cars, trucks, buses
approaching at great speed and hear the bursting of their tyres,
the screech of their wheels, the thunder of their steel bodies
suddenly growing weak as they crash into each other,
like wine glasses pushed off a table.

And in the morning I would go to sleep,
smiling in the face of the day,
the brother of my enemy.

-------------------------------------
It's the last three lines that really make this piece for me. ^^

And . . . .

Frog God

On a hard night of rain the road was full
Of glaring eyes alive in the headlights.
I thought of demons as I slowed.
Winding the window down, I saw them all
Blindly staring; rows of frogs with their throats
Fizzling song. The green digits glowed
Like ghosts on the dashboard; the cassette played

A Bartok string quartet. I turned it down
And heard the rain`s deep drum on the bonnet.
The wipers were on slow and ticked
Like an instrument payload on the moon.
These bags of bone are scaled lemmings, when it
Rains like this you find they have treked
Into the headlights´ tunnel and are blocked

Up inside their falling walls of brightness.
Not long before they were pupils gazing
From the complex vision of spawn -
Now, in all this dark and rain, they are eyes
Again: targets threaded out on a string
To face a double - barreled dawn.
I wondered how many my wheels had mown

As I got out of the car, taking care
Not to tread on any of these soft buddhas.
I herded them back to the mud -
To who on earth knows what jaws lurking there,
Then, with the feeling perhaps a god has,
Knowing his motives to be good,
I got back in the car and hit the road.
---------------------------------

He died of a heart attack in 1988, but last year, his son published a whole load of previously unreleased material, so if you likie him, more can be found here.
 http://www.aural-innovations.com/robertcalvert/calvertbio/calvertbio.htm
"We need a plane for Bombing, Strafing, Assault and Battery, Interception, Ground Support, and Reconaissance,
NOT JUST A "FAIR WEATHER FIGHTER"!

"I kinda like him. It's like he sees inside my soul" ~ Nigel


Whoever puts their hand on me to govern me, is a usurper, and a tyrant, and I declare them my enemy!

"And when the clouds obscure the moon, and normal service is resumed. It wont. Mean. A. Thing"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zpkCJDYxH-4

LuciferX

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Re: Favorite Song Lyrics/Poetry
« Reply #490 on: September 01, 2014, 10:26:58 pm »
That's the fuckng spirit right there, you three!
Hic Salta?
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LuciferX

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Re: Favorite Song Lyrics/Poetry
« Reply #491 on: September 21, 2014, 11:15:16 pm »
Going through some dict files, these last Cloud stanzas by Shelly are not all that bad.
Quote
...
That orbèd maiden with white fire laden,           
    Whom mortals call the moon,   
Glides glimmering o’er my fleece-like floor,   
    By the midnight breezes strewn;   
And wherever the beat of her unseen feet,   
    Which only the angels hear,           
May have broken the woof of my tent’s thin roof,   
    The stars peep behind her and peer;   
And I laugh to see them whirl and flee,   
    Like a swarm of golden bees,   
When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent,           
    Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas,   
Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high,   
    Are each paved with the moon and these.   
 
I bind the sun’s throne with a burning zone,   
    And the moon’s with a girdle of pearl;           
The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim,   
    When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.   
From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape,   
    Over a torrent sea,   
Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof,           
    The mountains its columns be.   
The triumphal arch through which I march   
    With hurricane, fire, and snow,   
When the powers of the air are chained to my chair,   
    Is the million-coloured bow;           
The sphere-fire above its soft colours wove,   
    While the moist earth was laughing below.   
 
I am the daughter of earth and water,   
    And the nursling of the sky;   
I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;           
    I change, but I cannot die.   
For after the rain when with never a stain,   
    The pavilion of heaven is bare,   
And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams,   
    Build up the blue dome of air,           
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,   
    And out of the caverns of rain,   
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,   
    I arise and unbuild it again.
Hic Salta?
________

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Re: Favorite Song Lyrics/Poetry
« Reply #492 on: September 22, 2014, 04:58:24 pm »
This post brazenly continues to to disseminate some more of the criminally under rated and underexposed work of the late, great Robert Calvert. He was born in 1945, in Pretoria, South Africa, to South African parentage, and moved to England as a young child. The profound differences of the two, very different Countries certainly had an effect upon his Artistic outlook, and more sadly, on his mental health.
He suffered from what was then called Manic Depression, being diagnosed as Schizophrenic in his teens too. This led to regular breakdowns, and Hospitalisations, or as his Mother put it, to his Band, when they first went on tour,
"Be warned though Boys, he tends to go into regular meltdowns every nine months or so" They thought she was probably exaggerating. She wasn't. 

So here are two very different pieces of prose by him, reflecting his feelings on both England, and how he missed the strangest things about his family in South Africa.  Enjoy.


~True Brit~

We are an obstinate people
We sometimes fake that we are thick
or adopt intellectual overtones
that only confuse ourselves
There is no one easier to fool
than a British intellectual

our language is only made for feelings
and for strange meaningless detentions
that say all
without any need for unravelling
We divide ourselves into ridged classes
and stick to them with such tenacity
that even when we cross them
our class will cling to us
like the symptoms of an hereditary disease

One of the boys in my class
has a trawler now
and he is still my mate
he is not impressed
by the measure of my success
only in that I have made myself the hero of my own dreams
as he has himsely
and Tony, Rod and Nik have all done the same

We have become ourselves only more so
we are True Brits
if we go abroad we look out for each other
there is a kinship between us
a ship of kin
that has sunk to the bottom level of our society
all hands went down
we find we can live here
with Davy Jones
eat fish and chips

None of us is very good at spelling
our faces are carved up with laughter half the time
The only time we are serious is when we punch fuck out of each other
We still speak in a language the Romans could not interfere with
It is a limited vocabulary admittedly
but even medical students
only turn to the Latin
when attempting to describe the unexplainable

There is nothing ethnic about us
but we share an ethos
even with some kids who are totally black
but not with awe

There are new laws being passed now
that say we must
We have always thought that laws were made to be broken
the Romans still have a lot to answer for
as do the Normans

The Norman's had the arrogance
to stay and lay claims that are still being adhered to
just look at the Channel Islands
their last stronghold
full of tax evaders
a bunch of cunts

Notice how easily they were invaded by the Bosh
but that's all history now or is it?
At least the Romans showed the cowardice of their convictions
and sailed off when they knew they were beaten

Some of them have stayed of course
that's why you see so many broken noses still around
There' is only one thing we lack besides conviction
(though some of us have had a few previous)

And that is enough money to live a decent life on
and I've just had a think about this and
I've decided that this poem is going to have to go on strike
until I can get some parity with other night shift worker.


And on South Africa, to where his Father, an Architect, and his Mother returned when Bob was in his late teens.  Bob elected to remain here in England.

~White Dynasty~

Chin cupped
In the palm,
Bunched fingers
Pressing up
To lift the flesh
From the cheekbone,
Chinesing the lid:
That's how he sits
When he's reading;
Elbow propped
On a leather arm.
I sometimes catch
Myself in this
Unconscious pose
Of my dad's.
My brother
Does it too.
(It leaves a mark.)
While they relax
On their verandhas -
The sun
Of Johannesburg
X-Raying the page -
Tear gas drifts
In Soweto's lanes.
And I am exiled
At a desk in Kent:
My conscience clear.
But by the time
I have written this,
I know the left side
Of my face will bear
The same
Faint redness
Around the eye.
"We need a plane for Bombing, Strafing, Assault and Battery, Interception, Ground Support, and Reconaissance,
NOT JUST A "FAIR WEATHER FIGHTER"!

"I kinda like him. It's like he sees inside my soul" ~ Nigel


Whoever puts their hand on me to govern me, is a usurper, and a tyrant, and I declare them my enemy!

"And when the clouds obscure the moon, and normal service is resumed. It wont. Mean. A. Thing"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zpkCJDYxH-4