I think mine would have to be :

IMAGES by Tyrone Green

Dark and lonely on a summer night
Kill my landlord, kill my landlord
The watchdog barkin', do he bite?
Kill my landlord, kill my landlord
I slip in the window
I break his neck
Then his house I start to wreck.
Got no reason, what the heck.
Kill my landlord, kill my landlord.
"C"-"I"-"L"-"L" my landlord.

I thought you were a little twisted...lol

Eldorado by Edgar Allen Poe

Gailey bedight, a gallant knight in sunshine and in shadow
had journeyed long singing a song in search of Eldorrado
but he grew old, this knight so bold
and ore his heart a shadow fell
as he found no spot of ground that looked like Eldordado.
When his strength failed him at length, he met a pilgrim shadow
Shadow said he, where can it be, this land of Eldorado
Over the mountains of the moon, down the valley of a shadow
ride boldly ride the shade replied if you seek Eldorado.

Mine has always been the Highwayman

http://www.potw.org/archive/potw85.html

Mom used to have a ton of books that had stories and poems in it... I remember her reading this to us before we could even read... and the pictures with the story is what always kept me intrigued...

Do they make women like that anymore?...lol

Richard Cory by Edwin Arlington Robinson.

Here I sit all broken-hearted..........

Tennyson's - Charge of the Light Brigade

I had to recite it in school and I did NOT want to memorize it, but a friend told me that Thin Lizzy had a song about it. So I acquiesced - it's been my favorite since.

Not sure who wrote that one, but they wrote it on the bathroom stall at Wagstaff Gym in the 1970's.

"Baseball's Sad Lexicon" by Franklin Pierce Adams. My 7th grade teacher looked at me like I was crazy when I included that as part of our required poetry recitation.

"The Falcon of Ser Federigo" by Longfellow...too long to post here but if you can find it online it is a great read. About lost love, redemption, and sacrifice.

Another one that was popular when "Here I sit all broken-hearted" was around.


Here I sit muscles flexin
Giving birth to another Texan

This is one of my all time favorite poems.

http://www.scrapbook.com/poems/doc/4615/199.html

does a limerick count? if so.... "there once was a man from nantucket" oh well never mind. lets try this instead.

"Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night. "- dylan thomas

http://www.baseball-almanac.com/poetry/po_line.shtml

The Waste Land by T S Eliot

http://www.theotherpages.org/poems/eliot01.html

Out of respect for those who fought and died.
-------------





The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner
by Randall Jarrell

From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from the dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.

"Drill a Thousand Holes" by my best friend Jerry Bush.



variables. intent. focus. the very first enters in and i am losing the other two. so i force it, the square peg in the round

i'm so same. same program keeps running the same. same time keeps thickening pace the same. same channel same

achieve one of life's greatest accomplishments. open and recieve a golden ticket. passport to the whirlpool, feet in concrete cerulean buckets.

and so i drill a thousand holes

do i know that i am alive? certainly. but where beauty crosses the path the blindness begins. a dark target. and another hole is made

overthinking. inhaling too much water. i cough and it comes up black. flakes of burnt orange glint, the rust overcoming my lungs. and i drill

no sign of light, yet shadows emerge. soaking up the blood with white bread, waiting for hope to show its head so i can cut it off. don't give it to me if i can't have it.

and the pain becomes redundant.

vision slighted. years of waiting....and all my people caught in tangled angles. communicating becomes like an alchemy problem. sulfur

yellow and red beam from other holes, briefly. slightly, shots of paint thinner douse the hot lights, slightly. in still other places the pitch burns brightly. drilling

innovative. a new design on soul atrophy. the paradigm shifts and revolves into new empty holes, secret holes that you can't come back from.

resolve no longer an issue.

depth, a concern for the weak.

solidarity in the shallow end.

genes rage against the change.

the drilling, done, filling the holes with

plastic.

o

stop

blee

ding.

Remember when TV actually went off at midnight... is this the poem that was cited on some channels at the end?

High Flight
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air. . . .

Up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or ever eagle flew —
And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

— John Gillespie Magee, Jr

America, anyone?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pioneers!_O_Pioneers!

Ahh...

Walt Whitman. New York City's favorite homosexual poet.