posted November 09, 2005 02:36 PM         

And as you feel it,
you’ll know it’s true
that you are blessed and lucky.
It’s true that you are touched by
something that will grow and bloom in you.

These are days you’ll remember.
When May is rushing over you
with desire to be part of the miracles
you see in every hour.
You’ll know it’s true
that you are blessed and lucky.

It’s true that you
are touched by something
that will grow
and bloom in you.

These are days.

These are the days you
might fill with laughter
until you break.
These days you might
feel a shaft of light
make its way across your face.
And when you do you’ll know
how it was meant to be.

See the signs and know their meaning.
It’s true, you’ll know how it was
meant to be.

Hear the signs and know
they’re speaking to you,
to you.

10,000 maniacs

------------------
the valley spirit never dies;
it is the woman, primal mother.
her gateway is the root of heaven and earth.
it is like a veil barely seen.
use it; it will never fail.

posted November 09, 2005 02:46 PM         

Hey you, you're a child in my head
You haven't walked yet
Your first words have yet to be said
But I swear you'll be blessed

I know you're still just a dream
your eyes might be green
Or the bluest that I've ever seen
Anyway you'll be blessed

And you, you'll be blessed
You'll have the best
I promise you that
I'll pick a star from the sky
Pull your name from a hat
I promise you that,
promise you that,
promise you that
You'll be blessed

I need you before I'm too old
To have and to hold
To walk with you and watch you grow
And know that you're blessed

elton john, bernie taupin

posted November 09, 2005 02:55 PM         

Something was pulling me
without knowing what
was leading me on:
your shining light.

In my darkest hour
the only way to bring
the dawn was
your shining light.

But you’re unaware
your shining light
is even on.

Like with a little glance
when you take me by surprise
and I take a chance and see
it all through your eyes.

Free me from my history
and show me where to draw the line,
by lighting up the mystery,
and you don’t even know
that it shines.

I’m not worried now
about flying too close
to the sun.

When December skies are cold,
you know I will always run to
your shining light.

I won’t abuse it
so please just let
it glow behind your smile.

Let me use it,
let me feel the warmth
like a little child
who understands your glance,
though it takes me by surprise.
And I take a chance and I
see it all through your eyes.

10,000 Maniacs

posted November 09, 2005 02:59 PM         

This is to mother you
To comfort you and get you through
Through when your nights are lonely
Through when your dreams are only blue
This is to mother you

This is to be with you
To hold you and to kiss you too
For when you need me I will do
What your own mother didn't do
Which is to mother you

All the pain that you have known
All the violence in your soul
All the 'wrong' things you have done
I will take from you when I come
All mistakes made in distress
All your unhappiness
I will take away with my kiss, yes
I will give you tenderness

For child I am so glad I've found you
Although my arms have always been around you
Sweet bird although you did not see me
I saw you

And I'm here to mother you
To comfort you and get you through
Through when your nights are lonely
Through when your dreams are only blue
This is to mother you

sinead o'connor

posted November 09, 2005 03:02 PM         

That young boy without a name I’d know his face.
In this city the kid’s my favorite.
I’ve seen him. I see him every day.
Seen him run outside looking for a place to hide from his father,
the kid half naked and said to myself “O, what’s the matter here?”
I’m tired of the excuses everybody uses, he’s their kid I stay out of it,
but who gave you the right to do this?

We live on Morgan Street
just ten feet between and his mother, I never see her,
but her screams and cussing, I hear them every day.
Threats like: “If you don’t mind I will beat on your behind,”
“Slap you, slap you silly.”
made me say, “O, what’s the matter here?”
I’m tired of the excuses everybody uses, he’s your kid, do as you see fit,
but get this through that I don’t approve of what you did to you own flesh and blood.

“If you don’t sit on this chair straight
I’ll take this belt from around my waist and don’t think that I won’t use it!”

Answer me and take your time,
what could be the awful crime he could do at such young an age?
If I’m the only witness to your madness offer me some words to balance out what I see and what I hear.
All these cold and rude things that you do I suppose you do because he belongs to you
and instead of love, the feel of warmth,
you’ve given him these cuts and sores that don’t heal with time or age.

I want to say “What’s the Matter here?”
But I don’t dare say.

posted November 09, 2005 03:10 PM         

All babies are born saying God's name
Over and over,
All born singing God's name
All babies are flown from the Universe
From there they're lifted by the hands of angels
God gives them the stars to use as ladders
She hears their calls
She is mother and father
All babies are born out of great pain
Over and over
All born into great pain
All babies are crying
For no-one remembers God's name

All babies are born saying God's name
Over and over,
All born singing God's name
All babies are flown from the Universe
From there they're lifted by the hands of angels
God gives them the stars to use as ladders
She hears their calls
She is mother and father
All babies are born out of great pain
Over and over
All born into great pain
All babies are crying
For no-one remembers God's name

There's only love
There's only love
There's only love in this world

There's only love
There's only love
There's only love in this world

sinead o'connor

posted November 09, 2005 03:13 PM         

Trouble me, disturb me with all your cares and you worries.
Trouble me on the days when you feel spent.
Why let your shoulders bend underneath this burden when my back is sturdy and strong?
Trouble me.

Speak to me, don’t mislead me, the calm I feel means a storm is swelling;
there’s no telling where it starts or how it ends.
Speak to me, why are you building this thick brick wall to defend me when your silence is my greatest fear?
Why let your shoulders bend underneath this burden when my back is sturdy and strong?
Speak to me.

Let me have a look inside these eyes while I’m learning.
Please don’t hide them just because of tears.
Let me send you off to sleep with a “There, there, now stop your turning and tossing.”
Let me know where the hurt is and how to heal.

Spare me? Don’t spare me anything troubling.
Trouble me, disturb me with all your cares and you worries.
Speak to me and let our words build a shelter from the storm.
Lastly, let me know what I can mend.
There’s more, honestly, than my sweet friend, you can see.
Trust is what I’m offering if you trouble me.

posted November 09, 2005 03:17 PM         

My darling child
My darling baby
My darling child
You gave life to me

My darling child
My darling baby
My darling child
You came and saved me

My darling child
My darling baby
My darling child
God gave you to me

Me little ninja
My little dancer
Me little streetfighter
Me little chancer
Me lovely boy
Me lovely babby

My pride and joy
Me little puppy
Me little wolf
Me little lamby
My favourite boy
My angel babby

Me little ninja
Me little dancer
Me little streetfighter
Me little chancer
Me love me boy
Me love me babby

My pride and joy
Me little puppy

sinead o'connor

------------------
the valley spirit never dies;
it is the woman, primal mother.
her gateway is the root of heaven and earth.
it is like a veil barely seen.
use it; it will never fail.

posted November 09, 2005 03:43 PM         

in a fall of snow as soft as down
a little child went out from town
far and afar away
through drifting flakes to the top of a hill
above a world all strange and still
and lost and far and grey.

and where the child stood on a mound,
shining upon the snow he found
a curved and silver horn,
an elfin trumpet on which he blew
one silver note! away snow flew,
and lo! 'twas a summer morn!

the sun lay wide and warm and still
over flowers and grass on the hill
that glowed with an elfin gleam --
and soft in the valley lowed the herds
and drowsily sang the summer birds
to a young man lost in dream.

harry behn

posted November 10, 2005 02:06 PM         

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise

Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise

Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise
I rise
I rise.

maya angelou

------------------
I was doing time in the universal mind.
I was feeling fine.
I was turning keys, I was setting people free.
I was doing all right.

posted November 10, 2005 02:11 PM         

The Whiskey on his breath,
could make a small boy dizzy,
But I hung on like death
Such waltzing wasn't easy.

We romped until the pans,
Slid from the kitchen shelf,
My mother's countenance,
Could not unfrown itself.

The hand that held my wrist,
Was battered on one knuckle,
At every step he missed,
My right ear scrapped a buckle.

He beat time on my head,
With a palm cracked hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed,
Still clinging to my shirt.

theodore roethke

------------------
I was doing time in the universal mind.
I was feeling fine.
I was turning keys, I was setting people free.
I was doing all right.

posted November 10, 2005 02:18 PM         

Wild child, full of grace
Savior of the human race
Your cool face.

Natural child, terrible child
Not your mother's or your father's child
You're our child, screaming wild.

With hunger at her heels
Freedom in her eyes
She dances on her knees
Pirate prince at her side.
Staring into the hollow idol's eyes.

Wild child, full of grace
Saviour of the human race
Your cool face, your cool face.

"You remember when we were in Africa."

the doors

posted November 10, 2005 05:37 PM         

strange it was
when kings of old
left all their ease
and power and gold,
and braved a desert
waste and wild
to kneel before
a little Child.

three ancient kings
came from afar,
their open eyes
upon a star,
a star that shined
on flocks of sheep
where weary shepherds
lay fast asleep.

and when those shepherds
awoke to the Word,
awoke in wonder
at what they heard,
so bright a vision
the star revealed
they could not move
from where they kneeled.

strange it was
such different folk
were those to whom
an Angel spoke,
spoke of a Child
and filled their eyes
with all the light
of Paradise.

strange it was
that men so wise
and men so simple,
with open eyes,
beheld the darkness
of the earth
grow bright because
of Jesus' birth.

strange it was,
and long ago,
when kings and shepherds
came to know
the ancient night
and the world of men
would never be quite
the same again.

harry behn

------------------
I was doing time in the universal mind.
I was feeling fine.
I was turning keys, I was setting people free.
I was doing all right.

posted November 10, 2005 06:04 PM         

Margaret Thatcher on TV
Shocked by the deaths that took place in Beijing
It seems strange that she should be offended
The same orders are given by her

I've said this before now
You said I was childish and you'll say it now
"Remember what I told you
If they hated me they will hate you"

England's not the mythical land of Madame George and roses
It's the home of police who kill black boys on mopeds

And I love my boy and that's why I'm leaving
I don't want him to be aware that there's
Any such thing as grieving

Young mother down at Smithfield
5 am, looking for food for her kids
In her arms she holds three cold babies
And the first word that they learned was "please"

These are dangerous days
To say what you feel is to dig your own grave
"Remember what I told you
If you were of the world they would love you"

England's not the mythical land of Madame George and roses
It's the home of police who kill blacks boys on mopeds

And I love my boy and that's why I'm leaving
I don't want him to be aware that there's
Any such thing as grieving.

sinead o'connor

posted November 10, 2005 06:17 PM         

The wind billowing out the seat of my britches,

My feet crackling splinters of glass and dried putty,

The half-grown chrysanthemums staring up like accusers,

Up through the streaked glass, flashing with sunlight,
A few white clouds all rushing eastward,

A line of elms plunging and tossing like horses,

And everyone, everyone pointing up and shouting!

theodore roethke

------------------
I was doing time in the universal mind.
I was feeling fine.
I was turning keys, I was setting people free.
I was doing all right.

posted November 10, 2005 06:39 PM         

Wonders happen if we can succeed
in passing through the harshest danger;
but only in a bright and purely granted
achievement can we realize the wonder.

To work with Things in the indescribable
relationship is not too hard for us;
the pattern grows more intricate and subtle,
and being swept along is not enough.

Take your practiced powers and stretch them out
until they span the chasm between two
contradictions...For the god
wants to know himself in you.

rainer maria rilke

posted January 08, 2006 04:01 AM         

------------------
he will take us by the hand,
and lead us to the wonderland,
if we can't be good, we'll be careful...
and do the best we can

posted January 27, 2006 04:24 PM         

Slumber, my darling, thy mother is near,
Guarding thy dreams from all terror and fear,
Sunlight has pass'd and the twilight has gone,
Slumber, my darling, the night's coming on.
Sweet visions attend thy sleep,
Fondest, dearest to me,
While others their revels keep,
I will watch over thee.

Slumber, my darling, the birds are at rest,
The wandering dews by the flow'rs are caressed,
Slumber, my darling, I'll wrap thee up warm,
And pray that the angels will shield thee from harm.

Slumber, my darling, till morn's blushing ray
Brings to the world the glad tidings of day;
Fill the dark void with thy dreamy delight--
Slumber, thy mother will guard thee tonight,
Thy pillow shall sacred be
From all outward alarms;
Thou, thou are the world to me
In thine innocent charms.

Slumber, my darling, the birds are at rest,
The wandering dews by the flow'rs are caressed,
Slumber, my darling, I'll wrap thee up warm,
And pray that the angels will shield thee from harm.

~Stephen Collins Foster

------------------
neither be cynical about love,
For in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
It is as perennial as the grass.