Viewing: Poetry/Song Lyrics - View All Posts

TOMORROW NEVER KNOWS by John Lennon 



Turn off your mind relax and float down stream
It is not dying, it is not dying

Lay down all thoughts, surrender to the void,
It is shining, it is shining.

Yet you may see the meaning of within
It is being, it is being

Love is all and love is everyone
It is knowing, it is knowing

And ignorance and hate mourn the dead
It is believing, it is believing

But listen to the colour of your dreams
It is not leaving, it is not leaving

So play the game "Existence" to the end
Of the beginning, of the beginning

THE DRAGONS ARE SINGING TONIGHT ~Jack Prelutsky 


Tonight is the night all dragons
Awake in their lairs underground,
To sing in cacophonous chorus
And fill the whole world with their sound.

They sing of the days of their glory,
They sing of their exploits of old,
Of maidens and knights, and of fiery fights,
And guarding vast caches of gold.

Some of their voices are treble,
And some of their voices are deep,
And all of their voices are thunderous,
And no one can get any sleep.

I lie in my bed and I listen,
Enchanted and filled with delight,
To songs I can hear only one night a year —
The dragons are singing tonight.

THE FUTURE 


"If I want to walk out in the desert and heat up a can of beans on a fire, I still can. In those movies like Gattaca or whatever, the space age stuff is always all there is. But in the world there is never just one way of living. It's more like a big junkyard. Put it this way: I'm not afraid I'm going to end up on a space station in aluminium-foil underwear."
—Tom Waits

"And now the wheels of heaven stop
You feel the devil's riding crop
Get ready for the future:
It is murder."
—Leonard Cohen

"The future is like heaven. Everyone exalts it,
but no one wants to go there now."
—James Baldwin

NOIR 

I could write a hundred poems
about the look of your sleeping face

here where the wood stove waits

for fast-approaching winter

I’m on the floor in front of your couch

surrounded by books of poetry

kept company by the constant hum

of our modern age and the ageless

sound of your breathing

not even Sam Spade could unravel

the intricate mystery of how

we came to be here tonight
but as soon as you walked into the cafe
I knew you were trouble


Jason Crane
RSS