Forum

imaš pravo
ljudi ispričavam se
to je sve bilo u jednoj noći
nemilosrdne nesanice... neću više nikad...

da još jednom podsjetim, ne morate postati
samo poeziju, mogu i lyricsi, dragi vam
citati, kratke priče, ulomci srcu vam priraslih
velikih priča, bilo što što je pisana
umjetnost a dovoljno malo da stane u 1 post

cutie, pjesma ti je odlična, a i ona priča što si ju postao je izvrsna, daj skupi kolekciju svojih uradaka i pošalji za almost famous. da i ljudi koji ne ulaze dublje u forum mogu guštati.
prekrasno!

E, Waltere, evo ti jedna na volej...

EELS - Your Lucky Day in Hell

Mama gripped onto the milkman's hand
And then she finally gave birth.
Years go by, still I don't know
Who shall inherit this earth.
And no one will know my name until it's on the stone,
Oh, woah,
This could be your lucky day in hell.
Never know who it might be at your doorbell.
This could be your lucky day in hell, in hell.
Waking up with an ugly face,
Winston Churchill in drag.
Looking for a new maternal embrace,
Another tired old gag.
Am I just a walking bag of chewed-up dust and bones?
Oh, woah,
This could be your lucky day in hell.
Never know who it might be at your doorbell.
This could be your lucky day in hell, in hell.
Father Theresa, you can't make me into you.
I never wanna be like you.
Why can't you see, it's me?
You know it's time to let me go.
This could be your lucky day in hell.
Never know who it might be at your doorbell.
This could be your lucky day in hell, in hell, in hell.
This could be your lucky day in hell.
Never know who it might be at your doorbell, in hell.
This could be your lucky day in hell, in hell, in hell, in hell.

Izmjenio - vlado u 13.12.2002 21:19:11

Izmjenio - vlado u 13.12.2002 21:19:32

hvala trixy. nisam baš siguran za af, vidit ću. ima toga, a ne da mi se baš radit izbor.

a evo nešto od thoma (helps you feel better)

If you have been rejected many times in your life, then one more rejection isn't going to make much difference. If you're rejected, don't automatically assume it's your fault. The other person may have several reasons for not doing what you're asking her to do: none of it may have anything to do with you. Perhaps the person is busy or not feeling well or genuinely not interested in spending time with you. Rejections are part of everyday life. Don't let them bother you. Keep reaching out to others. Keep reaching out to others. When you begin to recieve positive responses, then you are on the right track. It's all a matter of numbers. Count the positive responses and forget about the rejections.

rezultat je doduše bio porazan ali...
i feel better, i feel strong
immerse your soul in love

in pitch dark i go walking in your landscape.
broken branches trip me as i speak.
just coz you feel it doesnt mean its there.
just coz you feel it doesnt mean its there.

there's always a siren singing you to shipwreck.
(dont reach out, dont reach out)
stay 4ft away we'd be a walking disaster.
(dont reach out, dont reach out)
just coz you feel it doesn't mean its there.
(theres someone on your shoulder)
just coz you feel it doesn't mean its there.
(theres someone on your shoulder)

why so green and lonely?

heaven sent you to me.

we are accidents
waiting waiting to happen.

we are accidents
waiting waiting to happen.

ovo je pisma radioheada zvana there, there. i izaće na novom albumu najavljenom za 25.4. 2003

powerful...

je li i susan vega dijete raka?

suzanne vega je najveća pjesnikinja među
živućim kantautoricama...

Suzanne Vega
Suzanne Vega album(1985)
Marlene On The Wall

Even if I am in love with you
All this to say, what's it to you?
Observe the blood, the rose tattoo
Of the fingerprints on me from you

Other evidence has shown
That you and I are still alone
We skirt around the danger zone
And don't talk about it later

Marlene watches from the wall
Her mocking smile says it all
As she records the rise and fall
Of every soldier passing

But the only soldier now is me
I'm fighting things I cannot see
I think it's called my destiny
That I am changing

Marlene on the wall

Well I walked to your house in the afternoon
By the butcher shop with the sawdust room
'Don't give away the goods too soon'
Is what she might have told me

And I tried so hard to resist
When you held me in your handsome fist
And reminded me of the night we kissed
And of why I should be leaving

Marlene watches from the wall
Her mocking smile says it all
As she records the rise and fall
Of every man who's been here

But the only one here now is me
I'm fighting things I cannot see
I think it's called my destiny
That I am changing

Marlene on the wall

Izmjenio - waiter in his 60s u 19.12.2002 22:42:18

Sylvia Plath - The Arrival of the Bee Box


I ordered this, clean wood box
Square as a chair and almost too heavy to lift.
I would say it was the coffin of a midget
Or a square baby
Were there not such a din in it.

The box is locked, it is dangerous.
I have to live with it overnight
And I can't keep away from it.
There are no windows, so I can't see what is in there.
There is only a little grid, no exit.

I put my eye to the grid.
It is dark, dark,
With the swarmy feeling of African hands
Minute and shrunk for export,
Black on black, angrily clambering.

How can I let them out?
It is the noise that appalls me most of all,
The unintelligible syllables.
It is like a Roman mob,
Small, taken one by one, but my god, together!

I lay my ear to furious Latin.
I am not a Caesar.
I have simply ordered a box of maniacs.
They can be sent back.
They can die, I need feed them nothing, I am the owner.

I wonder how hungry they are.
I wonder if they would forget me
If I just undid the locks and stood back and turned into a tree.
There is the laburnum, its blond colonnades,
And the petticoats of the cherry.

They might ignore me immediately
In my moon suit and funeral veil.
I am no source of honey
So why should they turn on me?
Tomorrow I will be sweet God, I will set them free.

The box is only temporary.

Sylvia Plath: Tulips


The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here
Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in
I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly
As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands.
I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.
I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses
And my history to the anaesthetist and my body to surgeons.

They have propped my head between the pillow and the sheet-cuff
Like an eye between two white lids that will not shut.
Stupid pupil, it has to take everything in.
The nurses pass and pass, they are no trouble,
They pass the way gulls pass inland in their white caps,
Doing things with their hands, one just the same as another,
So it is impossible to tell how many there are.

My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water
Tends to the pebbles it must run over, smoothing them gently.
They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep
Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage -
My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox,
My husband and child smiling out of the family photo;
Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks.

I have let things slip, a thirty-year-old cargo boat
Stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.
They have swabbed me clear of my loving associations.
Scared and bare on the green plastic-pillowed trolley
I watched my teaset, my bureaus of linen, my books
Sink out of sight, and the water went over my head.
I am a nun now, I have never been so pure.

I didn't want any flowers, I only wanted
To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.
How free it is, you have no idea how free -
The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,
And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.
It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them
Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.

The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me.
Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe
Lightly, through their white swaddlings, like an awful baby.
Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds.
They are subtle: they seem to float, though they weigh me down,
Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their colour,
A dozen red lead sinkers round my neck.

Nobody watched me before, now I am watched.
The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me
Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins,
And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow
Between the eye of the sun and the eye of the tulips,

And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself.
The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.

Before they came the air was calm enough,
Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss.
Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise.

Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river
Snags and eddies round a sunken rust-red engine.
They concentrate my attention, that was happy
Playing and resting without committing itself.

The walls, also seem to be warming themselves.
The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals;
They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat,
And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes

Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love for me.
The water I taste is warm and salty, like the sea,
And comes from a country far away as health.

'tulipane' posvećujem svima onima
koji božić moraju provesti u
bolničkim krevetima...
i., drži se!

evo jedne optimistično-božićne (žena ju je
navodno napisala na jedan božić u povodu
rođenja prvog djeteta):

Of Being


I know this happiness
is provisional:

the looming presences—
great suffering, great fear—

withdraw only
into peripheral vision:

but ineluctable this shimmering
of wind in the blue leaves:

this flood of stillness
widening the lake of sky:

this need to dance,
this need to kneel:
this mystery:

--Denise Levertov

malo klasike:

ROBERT FROST (1874-1963)
STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING


1 Whose woods these are I think I know.
2 His house is in the village though;
3 He will not see me stopping here
4 To watch his woods fill up with snow.

5 My little horse must think it queer
6 To stop without a farmhouse near
7 Between the woods and frozen lake
8 The darkest evening of the year.

9 He gives his harness bells a shake
10 To ask if there is some mistake.
11 The only other sound's the sweep
12 Of easy wind and downy flake.

13 The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
14 But I have promises to keep,
15 And miles to go before I sleep,
16 And miles to go before I sleep.

u čast 'magnoliji' evo jedne divne stvari
sa soundtracka:

::Save Me

You look like a perfect fit
For a girl in need of a tourniquet

But can you save me
Come on and save me
If you could save me
From the ranks of the freaks
Who suspect they could never love anyone

'Cause I can tell
You know what it's like
The long farewell of the hunger strike

But can you save me
Come on and save me
If you could save me
From the ranks of the freaks
Who suspect they could never love anyone

You struck me dumb like radium
Like Peter Pan or Superman
You will come to save me
C'mon and save me
If you could save me
From the ranks of the freaks
Who suspect they could never love anyone
'Cept the freaks
Who suspect they could never love anyone
But the freaks
Who suspect they could never love anyone

C'mon and save me
Why don't you save me
If you could save me
From the ranks of the freaks
Who suspect they could never love anyone

Except the freaks
Who suspect they could never love anyone
Except the freaks who could never love anyone

--Aimee Mann

I Know, I Alone


I know, I alone
How much it hurts, this heart
With no faith nor law
Nor melody nor thought.

Only I, only I
And none of this can I say
Because feeling is like the sky -
Seen, nothing in it to see.

(10.08.1932)

--Fernando Pessoa

evo jedne prigodne, za godinu koja odlazi:

Essay on Departure

And when you leave, and no one's left behind,
do you leave a cluttered room, a window framing
a zinc roof, other mansard windows? Do you
leave a row of sycamores, a river
that flows in your nocturnal pulse, a moon
sailing late-risen through clouds silvered by
the lights flung up from bridges? Do you leave
the wicker chairs the café owner stacks
at half-past-midnight while the last small clutch
of two girls and a boy smoke and discuss
what twenty-year-olds in cafés discuss
past midnight, with no war on here? You leave
the one and then the other, the all-night
eight-aisles-of-sundries with a pharmacy
cloned six times in one mile on upper Broadway.
Everywhere you're leaving something, leaving
no one, leaving as a season fades,
leaving the crisp anticipation of
the new, before its gold drops on the rain-
slick crossings to the walkways over bridges,
the schoolyard's newly painted porte-cochčre:
remembered details. You're no longer there.
What's left when you have left, when what is left is
coins on the table and an empty cup?
An August lapse begins; the shutters drop
and lock, whatever follows is conjecture.
The sound feels final, punitive, a trap
shutting its jaws, though when the selfsame structure
was rolled up mornings, it was hopeful noise,
a reprieve from insomnia, a day's
presence opening possibility.
As you leave the place, you bring the time
you spent there to a closed parenthesis.
Now it is part of that amorphous past
parceled into flashes, slide-vignettes.
You'll never know if just what you forget's
the numinous and right detail, the key—
but to a door that is no longer yours,
glimpse of a morning-lit interior's
awakening silhouette, with the good blue
sky reflected on the tall blue walls,
then shadow swallows what was/wasn't true,
shutters the windows, sheathes the shelves in dust,
retains a sour taste and discards the kiss,
clings to the mood stripped of its narrative.
You take the present tense along. The place
you're leaving stops, dissolves into a past
in which it may have been, or it may not
have been (corroborate, but it's still gone)
the place you were, the moment that you leave.

--Marilyn Hacker

'Spark' by Tori Amos

she's addicted to nicotine patches
she's addicted to nicotine patches
she's afraid of the light in the dark
6:58 are you sure where my spark is
here, here, here

she's convinced she could hold back a glacier
but she couldn't keep Baby alive
doubting if there's a woman in there somewhere
here, here, here
you say you don't want it again
and again but you don't really mean it
you say you don't want it
this circus we're in
but you don't you don't really mean it you don't really mean it

if the Divine master plan is perfection
maybe next i'll give Judas a try
trusting my soul to the ice cream assassin
here, here, here
you say you don't want it again
and again but you don't really mean it
you say you don't want it
this circus we're in
but you don't you don't really mean it you don't really mean it

how many fates turn around in the overtime
ballerinas that have fins that you'll never find
you thought that you were the bomb yeah well so did i
say you don't want it
say you don't want it
say you don't want it again
and again but you don't really mean it
say you don't want it
this circus we're in
but you don't you don't really mean it you don't really mean it

she's addicted to nicotine patches
she's afraid of the light in the dark
6:58 are you sure where my spark is
here, here, here...


Izmjenio - waiter in his 60s u 01.01.2003 15:43:29

::Backward Miracle

Every once in a while
we need a
backward miracle
that will strip language,
make it hold for
a minute: just the
vessel with the
wine in it —
a sacramental
refusal to multiply,
reclaiming the
single loaf
and the single
fish thereby.

--Kay Ryan

Aimee Mann: It's Not
(from Lost In Space)

I keep going round and round on the same old circuit
a wire travels underground to a vacant lot
where something I can't see interrupts the current
and shrinks the picture down to a tiny dot
and from behind the screen it can look so perfect
but it's not

so here I'm sitting in my car at the same old stop light
I keep waiting for a change but I don't know what
so red turns into green turning into yellow
but I'm just frozen here in the same old spot
and all I have to do is to press the pedal
but I'm not
but I'm not

People are tricky you can't afford to show
anything risky anything they don't know
the moment you try - well, kiss it goodbye

so baby kiss me like a drug, like a respirator
and let me fall into the dream of the astronaut
for I'll get lost in space that goes on forever
and you make all the rest just an afterthought
and I'll believe it's you could make it better
though it's not
no it's not
no it's not

Where I End and You Begin

there's a gap between
there's a gap where we meet
where i end and you begin

and i'm sorry for us
the dinosaurs roam the earth
the sky turns green
where i end and you begin

i am up in the clouds
i am up in the clouds
and i can't and i can't come down

i can watch and can't take part
where i end and where you start
where you, you left me alone
you left me alone.

X' will mark the place
like parting the waves
like a house falling in the sea.

i will eat you alive
i will eat you alive
i will eat you alive
i will eat you alive

there will be no more lies
there will be no more lies
there will be no more lies
there will be no more lies

thom je najveći.jedva čekam novi album. govori se da će ličit na the bends. oće kurac. isto tako se govori da pola stvari naginje na ok/kid a. uh.

RUKE SAM PODIGAO PREMA NEBU

Ruke sam podigao prema nebu
i pogledao gdje je najtamnije...
Pitam se:

Tko će me zaustaviti?

-- alen galović

Loser


In the time of chimpanzees I was a monkey
butane in my veins so i'm out to cut the junkie
with the plastic eyeballs
spray paint the vegetables
dog food stalls with the beefcake pantyhose
kill the headlights and put it in neutral
stock car flamin' with a loser and the cruise control
baby's in Reno with the vitamin D
got a couple of couches sleep on the love seat
someone keeps sayin' I'm insane to complain about
a shotgun wedding and a stain on my shirt
don't believe everything that you breathe
you get a parking violation and a maggot on your sleeve
so shave your face with some mace in the dark
savin' all your food stamps and burnin' down the trailer park
(yo cut it)
Soy un perdedor I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me?
(double-barrel buckshot)
Soy un perdedor i'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me?
Forces of evil in a bozo nightmare
banned all the music with a phony gas chamber
'cuz one's got a weasel and the other's got a flag
one's got on the pole shove the other in a bag
with the rerun shows and the cocaine nose job
the daytime crap with the folksinger slop
he hung himself with a guitar string
slap the turkey neck and it's hangin' on a pigeon wing
you can't write if you can't relate
trade the cash for the beef for the body for the hate
and my time is a piece of wax
fallin' on a termite who's chokin' on the splinters
Soy un perdedor I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me?
(get crazy with the cheese whiz)
Soy un perdedor I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me?
(drive-by body pierce)
(yo bring it on down)
soooooooyy....
(I'm a driver I'm a winner things are gonna change I can feel it)
Soy un perdedor I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me?
(I can't believe you)
Soy un perdedor I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me?
Soy un perdedor I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me?
[repeat]
(Sprechen Sie Deutsch, baby?)
Soy un perdedor I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me?
(Know what I'm sayin'?)

--beck

hvala ti, trix. 'sea change' je prekrasan.

River Man

Betty came by on her way
Said she had a word to say
About things today
And fallen leaves.

Said she hadn't heard the news
Hadn't had the time to choose
A way to lose
But she believes.

Going to see the river man
Going to tell him all I can
About the plan
For lilac time.

If he tells me all he knows
About the way his river flows
And all night shows
In summertime.

Betty said she prayed today
For the sky to blow away
Or maybe stay
She wasn't sure.

For when she thought of summer rain
Calling for her mind again
She lost the pain
And stayed for more.

Going to see the river man
Going to tell him all I can
About the ban
On feeling free.

If he tells me all he knows
About the way his river flows
I don't suppose
It's meant for me.

Oh, how they come and go
Oh, how they come and go

-- nick drake

iskopajte si ovog starog kantautora,
neće vam biti žao.
beckov 'sea change' je posvećen njemu,
muzika u stvari 'round the bend'je samo
ekspandirana melodija iz 'river mana'

Evo meni najdraže Štulićeve pjesme iako s jednog od slabijih albuma ta mi je pjesma izuzetna.

Između krajnosti

ući će u moju sobu
kao vojnik privatno
na rubu očaja
tražeći krv s vatrom u očima
crvena točka na zalasku karijere
tik ispred smrti

tišino možeš li me čuti
ja sam samo tvoje roblje
koje putuje u stanicu bez imena
i mogu vidjeti što ćeš učiniti
al' ne mogu se pridružiti
tvojoj prokletoj kopiladi
između krajnosti

evo i jedne moje davne nekako mi pristaje uz iščekivanje drveća i rijeka

izmisli me
i ostavi na vjetru
lijepo je
biti dio tvoje slobode
spavati
sa šumom na dlanu
kraj vode

zumbule, hvala ti što si tu.
nadam se da se više neću morati prijetit
harakirijem da opet nikneš na ovom tlu.

opet pretjerujem, ali ne mogu
odoljeti da ne postam ovu ljepoticu kad
znam da među vama ima barem 1 fan colvinove

Kill the Messenger
Shawn Colvin

Jane it sure looks like rain
These Canadian plains
And their windblown hair
Jane the bruise colored clouds
The smell of the ground
In the ripening air

I have seen you
In your fluttering dress
And your dry face of steel
As you're dragging your red rowing boat
Cross the forever fields

See Jane something's gone dead
Inside my head
There's nothing but fear
Jane the rivers of grief
The tears of relief
Seem ages from here

Sometimes the beauty of life
Hits like lightening washing everything
clear
And these dimmers of doubt flicker
Fade out and disappear

But Jane that is a luxury
There are those of little faith it seems
And they beg for truth like charity
And I see them on every street corner

They are holding out one righteous hand
While the other leads the marching band
In the shadow hymn of the scratchman
Heed the message, kill the messenger

Jane I heard you found love
Wriggling up from the mud
On the shores of Granville
But Jane in the wink of an eye
The naysayers fly
Like hounds at your heels

Jane they'll whisper your name
And you won't feel the chains
And you won't see the moss
Oh, Jane there's an art to the game
The aesthetics of love
The athletics of loss

Sometimes someone drifts by
And our nets get entwined in the sea
And in time I might find
They still mean something to me

But Jane that is a luxury
There are those of little faith in me
And they pull me down like gravity
And I see them on every street corner

They are masters in the sleight of hand
They are dancers and they step so grand
To the shibboleth of Shadowland
Heed the message, kill the messenger

evo moje omiljene pjesme od moje omiljene shaw

Shawn Colvin
Fat City (1992)
Polaroids

Please no more therapy
Mother take care of me
Piece me together with a
Needle and thread
Wrap me in eiderdown
Lace from your wedding gown
Fold me and lay me down
On your bed
Or liken me to a shoe
Blackened and spit-shined through
Kicking back home to you
Smiling back home
Singing back home to you
Laughing back home to you
Dragging back home to you


I was so wary then
The ugly American
Thinner than oxygen
Tough as a whore
I said you can lie to me
I own what's inside of me
And nothing surprises me anymore
But forests in Germany
Kids in the Tuileries
Broken-down fortresses
In old Italy
And claiming his victory
Shrouded in mystery
He went running away with me


Back in our home New York
Walking these streets forlorn
We all in our uniforms
Black and black
Doing that slouch and jive
The artist must survive
We've got all we need we cried
And we don't look back
Thinking we had it made
Poised for the hit parade
Knee deep in accolades
The conceptual pair
But ever the malcontent
He left without incident
Vanished into thin air


Now I am always amazed
Words can fill up a page
Pages fill up the days
Between him and me
But the vows that we never keep
From bedrooms to business-speak
Make me remember how cheap
Words can be
And the letters I wrote you of
Were those of the desperate stuff
Like begging for love in a suicide threat
But I am too young to die
Too old for a lullaby
Too tired for life on the ledge


But I had a dream last night
Of lovers who walked the plank
Out on the edge of time
Amidst ridicule
They laughed as they rocked and reeled
Over the mining fields
Coming to rest on this ship of fools
But he just took polaroids
Of her smile in the light
Of the dawn of the menacing sky
And before they went overbaord
She turned and held up a card
And it said Valentine

she breaks my heart, trix, she breaks my
little red heart...