Lonely.ie

Jean Jean made a machine and Joe Joe made it go,
Ard Ard let a fart and blew the whole damn thing apart...

Officer Zed police academy 4.

captivatingly beautiful...lol..

65

Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, But sad mortality o'ersways their power, How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, Whose action is no stronger than a flower? O how shall summer's honey breath hold out, Against the wrackful siege of batt'ring days, When rocks impregnable are not so stout, Nor gates of steel so strong but time decays? O fearful meditation, where alack, Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid? Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back, Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid? O none, unless this miracle have might, That in black ink my love may still shine bright

William Blake.

'Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.'

So sang a little Clod of Clay,
Trodden with the cattle's feet,
But a Pebble of the brook
Warbled out these metres meet:

'Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to its delight,
Joy in another's loss of ease,
And build a Hell in Heaven's despite.'

Ode to my Goldfish by Ogden Nash



Oh! Wet pet.

[She was too kind, wooed too persistently]

Samuel Butler (1805-1932)

---

Samuel Butler (1805-1932)

i She was too kind, wooed too persistently, Wrote moving letters to me day by day; The more she wrote, the more unmoved was I, The more she gave, the less could I repay. Therefore I grieve, not that I was not loved, But that, being loved, I could not love again. I liked, but like and love are far removed; Hard though I tried to love I tried in vain. For she was plain and lame and fat and short, Forty and over-kind. Hence it befell That though I loved her in a certain sort, Yet did I love too wisely but not well. Ah! had she been more beauteous or less kind She might have found me of another mind. ii

And now, though twenty years are come and gone,
That little lame lady's face is with me still;
Never a day but what, on every one,
She dwells with me, as dwell she ever will.
She said she wished I knew not wrong from right;
It was not that; I knew, and would have chosen
Wrong if I could, but, in my own despite,
Power to choose wrong in my chilled veins was frozen.
'Tis said that if a woman woo, no man
Should leave her till she have prevailed; and, true,
A man will yield for pity, if he can,
But if the flesh rebels what can he do?
I could not. Hence I grieve my whole life long
The wrong I did, in that I did no wrong.

iii

Had I been some young sailor, continent
Perforce three weeks and then well plied with wine,
I might in time have tried to yield consent
And almost (though I doubt it) made her mine.
Or had it been but once and never again,
Come what come might, she should have had her way;
But yielding once were yielding twice, and then
I had been hers for ever and a day.
Or had she only been content to crave
A marriage of true minds, her wish was granted;
My mind was hers, I was her willing slave
In all things else except the one she wanted:
And here, alas! at any rate to me
She was an all too, too impossible she.

Poem for women!! (",)

I shave my legs,
I sit down to pee.
And I can justify any shopping spree.
Don't go to a barber, but a beauty salon.
I can get a massage without a hard-on.
I can balance the checkbook, I can pump my own gas.
Can talk to my friends about the size of my ass.
My beauty's a masterpiece and yes, it takes long.
At least I can admit to others when I'm wrong.
I don't drive in circles, at any cost. And I don't have a problem admitting I'm lost.

I never forget an important date.
You just gotta deal with it, I'm usually late.
I don't watch movies with lots of gore.
Don't need instant replay to remember the score.
I won't lose my hair, I don't get jock itch.
And just cause I'm assertive, Don't call me a bitch.
Don't say to your friends, Oh yeah, I can get her. In your dreams, my dear, I can do better!
Flowers are okay, But jewelry's best.
Look at me you idiot... Not at my chest!!!!!
I don't have a problem, With Expressing my feelings.
I know when you're lying, You look at the ceiling.

DON'T call me a GIRL , a BABE or a CHICK . I am a WOMAN. Get it?, you DICK!?!

Poem for men!! (",)


I'm glad I'm a man, you better believe.
I don't live off of yogurt, diet coke, or cottage cheese
I don't bitch to my girlfriends about the size of my breasts.
I can get where I want to - north, south, east or west.

I don't get wasted after only 2 beers,
And when I do drink I don't end up in tears.
I won't spend hours deciding what to wear.
I spend 5 minutes max fixing my hair.

And I don't go around checking my reflection
in everything shiny from every direction.
I don't whine in public and make us leave early,
And when you ask why get all bitter and surly.

I'm glad I'm a man, I'm so glad I could sing.
I don't have to sit around waiting for that ring.
I don't gossip about friends or stab them in the back.
I don't carry our differences into the sack.

I'll never go psycho and threaten to kill you
Or think every guy out there's trying to steal you.
I'm rational, reasonable, and logical too.
I know what the time is and I know what to do.

And I honestly think its a privilege for me
To have these two balls and stand when I pee.
I live to watch sports and play all sorts of ball.
It's more fun than dealing with women after all.

I won't cry if you say it's not going to work.
I won't remain bitter and call you a jerk.
Feel free to use me for immediate pleasure.
I won't assume it's permanent by any measure.

Yes, I'm so very glad I'm a man, you see.
I'm glad I'm not capable of child delivery.
I don't get all bitchy every 28 days.
I'm glad that my gender gets me a much bigger raise.

I'm a man by chance and I'm thankful it's true.
I'm so glad I'm a man and not a woman like you!

Gerard Manley Hopkins.

'My own heart let me have more pity on; let
Me live to my sad self hereafter kind,
Charitable; not live this tormented mind
With this tormented mind tormenting yet.
I cast for comfort I can no more get
By groping around my comfortless, than blind
Eyes in their dark can day or thirst can find
Thirst's all-in-all in all a world of wet.

Soul, self; come, poor Jackself, I do advise
You, jaded, let be; call off thoughts a while
Elsewhere; leave comfort root-room; let joy size
As God knows when to God knows what; whose smile
's not wrung, see you; unforseen times rather - as skies
Betweenpie mountains - lights a lovely mile.'

Limerick
There was an Old Man who supposed,
That the street door was partially closed;
But some very large rats,
Ate his coats and his hats,
While that futile old gentleman dozed.

Limerick
There was an Old Person of Buda,
Whose conduct grew ruder and ruder;
Till at last, with a hammer,
They silenced his clamour,
By smashing that Person of Buda


All the above are by Edward Lear, so they must be classified as poetry....lol

There was a Young Lady whose chin,
Resembled the point of a pin;
So she had it made sharp,
And purchased a harp,
And played several tunes with her chin.

William Blake.

'Little Fly,
Thy summer's play
My thoughtless hand
Has brush'd away.

Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?

For I dance,
And drink, and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.

If thought is life
And strength and breath,
And the want
Of thought is death;

Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live
Or if I die.'