They go back to the original sindestroying every step I made bold.I go back to minding the divineexalting life on God's shine of gold.I abandoned all that you went backto steal from all the tears I stacked up.Oh, I'm proud painting of Blacklost all that held me down but gained lightthat's why I stand no, no, no, nofor I knew that I will go back to whereI came from leaving these … [Read more...] about Back To Black (No Rehab), By: Uchechukwu Onyedikam
Memorials Of A Tour In Italy, 1837 – VII. – At Rome, By: William Wordsworth
They who have seen the noble Roman's scornBreak forth at thought of laying down his head,When the blank day is over, garrotedIn his ancestral palace, where, from mornTo night, the desecrated floors are wornBy feet of purse-proud strangers; they who have readIn one meek smile, beneath a peasant's shed,How patiently the weight of wrong is borne;They who have heard some learned … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour In Italy, 1837 – VII. – At Rome, By: William Wordsworth
Reflections Of The Small Hours, By: Arlin Mudju
when i was a child, i thought that love would burnlike an eternal flame that charredeverything it lay its fingers on, leavingnothing but the grey snow and the rubblea fleeting display of utmost glory snuffedout like a cigarette when i was a child, i fell in love with the seawith the cobalt froth that formedaround me in a dizzying hazewith the calm brought by the taste of … [Read more...] about Reflections Of The Small Hours, By: Arlin Mudju
Memorials Of A Tour In Italy, 1837 – VI. – Plea For The Historian, By: William Wordsworth
Forbear to deem the Chronicler unwise,Ungentle, or untouched by seemly ruth,Who, gathering up all that Time's envious toothHas spared of sound and grave realities,Firmly rejects those dazzling flatteries,Dear as they are to unsuspecting Youth,That might have drawn down Clio from the skiesTo vindicate the majesty of truth.Such was her office while she walked with men,A Muse, … [Read more...] about Memorials Of A Tour In Italy, 1837 – VI. – Plea For The Historian, By: William Wordsworth
Young And Naive, By: Ben Leahy
Young and naive,Without worry or the ability to conceive.I picked up an instrument for the first timeA second hand guitar, lost in time gone by,Lost interest in it, as you did in me,Not a second thought given to the things I could be. Was it an oppertunity wastedOr a bullet dodged?Years have passed and now I'm deflated,The useless acts I let my mind get hogged.A childhood … [Read more...] about Young And Naive, By: Ben Leahy