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"webber" poems
I started reading late and never learnt to put down the book I guess I burnt out with the strength learning took I couldn't stop spewing the facts that I learnt in school But now when I open my mouth I cant help playing the fool I guess I stopped using words that others could question I guess I got tired of being the only one awake in lessons I guess it's not worth it to embrace a humming mind When being alone is the only solace that I find Because honestly, we are "in clanging space a moment heard" And Yeats is the only friend that doesn't think I'm absurd And my friends take the **** because I read poetry while simultaneously they're reading books that I breathe "If its not on the curriculum then it doesn't count" Well I read it all years ago, want to know what its about? Maybe its dense to think that English Lit numbs your mind but I didn't take the subject and it didn't stunt the meanings that I find I guess it's my fault for reading Leroux instead of Meyer But the only fantasy I need has a mask hiding layers And I guess Lloyd Webber gave it a rebirth but The Phantom of the Opera was my favourite book first I wish that reading books could make me superior But I'm in a corner, lips tight, perpetually inferior I wish I'd learnt the things that they'd learnt in school Like throwing parties and talking back and breaking the rules I'm caught between one extreme and the next One second I'm curled thinking alone the next I'm having *** Because when I voice my thoughts they're warped and inaccurate Sometimes I wonder if I'd express them better if I'd stayed celibate Surely talking shouldn't be so hard But it's difficult to hold back the words that I want to discard Discard because my head hurts from the pressure Of the thoughts that no right mind could measure I suffer from the pain of never feeling understood but honestly, I would push you away if you could
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Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 3:41 PM UTC
Ramblings of an Anxious and Avid Reader
I started reading late and never learnt to put down the book I guess I burnt out with the strength learning took I couldn't stop spewing the facts that I learnt in school But now when I open my mouth I cant help playing the fool I guess I stopped using words that others could question I guess I got tired of being the only one awake in lessons I guess it's not worth it to embrace a humming mind When being alone is the only solace that I find Because honestly, we are "in clanging space a moment heard" And Yeats is the only friend that doesn't think I'm absurd And my friends take the **** because I read poetry while simultaneously they're reading books that I breathe "If its not on the curriculum then it doesn't count" Well I read it all years ago, want to know what its about? Maybe its dense to think that English Lit numbs your mind but I didn't take the subject and it didn't stunt the meanings that I find I guess it's my fault for reading Leroux instead of Meyer But the only fantasy I need has a mask hiding layers And I guess Lloyd Webber gave it a rebirth but The Phantom of the Opera was my favourite book first I wish that reading books could make me superior But I'm in a corner, lips tight, perpetually inferior I wish I'd learnt the things that they'd learnt in school Like throwing parties and talking back and breaking the rules I'm caught between one extreme and the next One second I'm curled thinking alone the next I'm having *** Because when I voice my thoughts they're warped and inaccurate Sometimes I wonder if I'd express them better if I'd stayed celibate Surely talking shouldn't be so hard But it's difficult to hold back the words that I want to discard Discard because my head hurts from the pressure Of the thoughts that no right mind could measure I suffer from the pain of never feeling understood but honestly, I would push you away if you could
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30
I only feel alive in my music Latin words flowing, No, cascading With a life of their own That rush of pure joy When I hear the harmony. Body totally relaxed Nothing but the music No boys No fear No anger No drama No love But the love of beauty The love of being alive My soul soars When my voice lifts higher My heart nearly bursts As I feel the perfection of Bach, Mahler, Andrew Lloyd-Webber. Every note Beats with my heart Every note Is sung with passion Every note Lets me live
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Aug 4, 2012
Aug 4, 2012 at 5:42 PM UTC
Alive
(Song title from “Cats” by Lloyd Webber, Nunn and Eliot) I recall the day the sun faded with golden haze, Leaving a mist of inner peace upon the sky, The clouds’ lining of silver were bright fire-red; ablaze, This is a memory that haunts me and I begin to cry, The horsemen of the apocalypse sent me to a daze, I reminisce in fear about the day I thought I’d die.
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Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 7:14 AM UTC
Memory
have you ever grappled with despair not in imagery, symbolism or portrayal. I mean, have you ever felt the elevator drop the watery weakness that extenuates breath a depth of fatigue that makes lying on the floor a burden an aching pounding in your chest, the broken-glass dryness in your throat the gritty ache in your eyes that makes you want to close them forever? Struggle no more, leaden limbs, free the weary weight. Eyes that struggle, release the light. The body begs to no more fight. In a blur of sluggish thought, I whisper sleep's sweet name. The will has dropped. The yearning stopped. I’ll rest on that distant shore. . . Songs for this: Nessun Dorma by Sarah Brightman Caruso (Live at "Pavarotti International" Charity Gala Concert, Modena 1992) by Luciano Pavarotti, Aldo Sisilli Pie Jesu by Andrew Lloyd Webber, Sarah Brightman & Paul Miles-Kingston 0730.0722
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Jul 22, 2024
Jul 22, 2024 at 7:01 AM UTC
the elevator
(Song title from “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat” by Lloyd Webber and Rice) When you died I couldn’t cope, The pain was clearly there, I was empty as a barrel, Feeling the cold of your armchair. The warmth that you brought, Vanished and faded away, In the flicker of an eyelid, Made me wish for another day. Now you’re high above the clouds, One more angel in heaven on high, And I know you’ll watch over me, In every second that passes me by.
0
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 10:55 AM UTC
One More Angel In Heaven
My room is a mess - it's an archaeological record of boredom. Christmas, Christmas, come on Christmas. It's 4 days 'til Christmas. Why don't I go to my room and do NOTHING?? The clock ticking sounds like a large horse clomping over cobble stones. Last year there were wall-to-wall parties - so many that you had to carry a change of clothes with you. In 2020 there's nothing to do - but I don't have to tell YOU (my reader). Except for the whole school thing. Nothing to do but study. I read, on that webber-net thing that 38% of students are failing. Because of the pandemic - oh, not that virus monster - the boredom pandemic - the London-tower-lonely state of slow-motion distress that’s invisibly gripped us all. Can we hold on people? The hard-won, delicious truth is that there’s hope. Vaccines - a bunch of 'em. Is it possible to let worries go this season and simply treasure our lives? Just this month we have or had Hanukah, Kwanza, Festivus. Hopefully, you made wild, monkey-love on December 14th - that was "International Monkey Day" - I couldn't join you - of course - but I'm just sayin.  =] Look it up - almost every day is some kind of celebration or invent your own - if Ice Cream Day, Lemon Cupcake Day, Go Caroling Day or Crossword Puzzle Day don't do it for ya. The important gifts, this year, are fun, attention and love.
0
Dec 21, 2020
Dec 21, 2020 at 6:50 AM UTC
2020 holidays
(Song title from “Sunset Boulevard” by Lloyd Webber, Black, Hampton and Powers) I wonder how it feels to have the perfect year, Full of love and comfort, laughter and cheer, Without crying and without shame, No anguish and no pain, Safe from the thunder and the rain. I wonder how it feels to have the perfect year, Full of joy and smiles, sunshine and cheer, Without anger and without hurt, No coldness and no dirt, Safe from storms: no need to revert.
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Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 11:02 AM UTC
The Perfect Year
(Try singing this poem to the tune of the song "The Phantom of the Opera," by Andrew Lloyd Webber.) From New York State he came And conned his way Right past the White House gate And chose to stay. To be unethical He is inclined. The phantom of the White House is a threat To humankind. He does not care about What people need. He answers more to calls Of graft and greed. When making deals with him, He'll rob you blind. The phantom of the White House is a threat To humankind. He speaks in code just like A mafia boss. To find his good points, you Are at a loss. His hateful rhetoric Is unrefined. The phantom of the White House is a threat To humankind. His rank hypocrisy's A common theme. All his deceitfulness Is not a dream. Speak words against him and You'll be maligned. The phantom of the White House is a threat To humankind. To purge the White House of This noisome ghost, The answer's to remove Him from his post. May people everywhere All keep in mind: The phantom of the White House is a threat To humankind. Beware the phantom of the White House…. He's there--the phantom of the White House…. Beware the phantom of the White House…. -by Bob B (10-6-19)
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Oct 6, 2019
Oct 6, 2019 at 2:50 PM UTC
The Phantom of the White House
(This poem can be sung to the melody of "Go Go Go, Joseph" from JOSEPH AND HIS AMAZING TECHNICOLOR DREAMCOAT by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice.) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tze325xsYd4 (Narrator) Nancy P. was looking to Investigate what happened here Back on a fateful winter day-- On January 6 this year. (The People) Hey, Nancy, you're doing what you must. We want a probe that is robust. Good going, Nancy, do not shy away. Get to the cause of what happened that day. Please don't stop, Nancy. You should find out What the insurgence was really about. (Narrator) A group that was bipartisan Was Nancy's goal--was Nancy's plan. But she found resistance from Kevin M.--the hatchet man. (The People) Hey, Nancy, he wants to derail Everything, for he wants you to fail. So she received from McCarthy some names. He was intent on still playing his games. One was Jim Jordan, the worst of the lot; Another Jim Banks, to spoil the *** (Nancy P.) Sorry, guys, but you have proved That you're not worthy of this task. I want people willing to Be serious. That's all I ask. (Narrator) First, Jim Jordan hoped that he could prove That Nancy here had made an unfair move. (Jim Jordan) Investigations like this are a sham. If you don't want me, I don't give a **** If you ask me, I have known all along That having this probe is both outrageous and wrong. (Nancy P.) Sorry that you feel that way, So go back to what you were doing. But studying attacks on our Democracy is worth pursuing. (Narrator) Then Jim Banks stood up to speak his mind. He and Jordan had been closely aligned. (Jim Banks) You have made this a partisan mess. You're doing nothing but causing distress. Forget all the riots; why can't we move on? For me it is all just one giant yawn. (Nancy P.) How bizarre that you both live In alternate realities. Too bad that the two of you Can't see the forest for the trees. You are dangerous; it's clear to see. I think that most people would agree. (The People) Don't worry, Nancy, you've done what is right. Stick to your guns and don't give up the fight. What those two men have done is quite clear: Each one of them has his head up his rear. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah… Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah… Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, Yeah, yeah, yeah, Nancy, you've done what is right. Stick to your guns and don't give up the fight. What those two men have done is quite clear: Each one of them has his head up his rear. His head up his rear… His head up his rear… Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah! -by Bob B (7-25-21)
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Jul 26, 2021
Jul 26, 2021 at 8:43 AM UTC
Good Going, Nancy!
(This poem can be sung to the melody of "Go Go Go, Joseph" from JOSEPH AND HIS AMAZING TECHNICOLOR DREAMCOAT by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice.) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tze325xsYd4 (Narrator) Nancy P. was looking to Investigate what happened here Back on a fateful winter day-- On January 6 this year. (The People) Hey, Nancy, you're doing what you must. We want a probe that is robust. Good going, Nancy, do not shy away. Get to the cause of what happened that day. Please don't stop, Nancy. You should find out What the insurgence was really about. (Narrator) A group that was bipartisan Was Nancy's goal--was Nancy's plan. But she found resistance from Kevin M.--the hatchet man. (The People) Hey, Nancy, he wants to derail Everything, for he wants you to fail. So she received from McCarthy some names. He was intent on still playing his games. One was Jim Jordan, the worst of the lot; Another Jim Banks, to spoil the *** (Nancy P.) Sorry, guys, but you have proved That you're not worthy of this task. I want people willing to Be serious. That's all I ask. (Narrator) First, Jim Jordan hoped that he could prove That Nancy here had made an unfair move. (Jim Jordan) Investigations like this are a sham. If you don't want me, I don't give a **** If you ask me, I have known all along That having this probe is both outrageous and wrong. (Nancy P.) Sorry that you feel that way, So go back to what you were doing. But studying attacks on our Democracy is worth pursuing. (Narrator) Then Jim Banks stood up to speak his mind. He and Jordan had been closely aligned. (Jim Banks) You have made this a partisan mess. You're doing nothing but causing distress. Forget all the riots; why can't we move on? For me it is all just one giant yawn. (Nancy P.) How bizarre that you both live In alternate realities. Too bad that the two of you Can't see the forest for the trees. You are dangerous; it's clear to see. I think that most people would agree. (The People) Don't worry, Nancy, you've done what is right. Stick to your guns and don't give up the fight. What those two men have done is quite clear: Each one of them has his head up his rear. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah… Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah… Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, Yeah, yeah, yeah, Nancy, you've done what is right. Stick to your guns and don't give up the fight. What those two men have done is quite clear: Each one of them has his head up his rear. His head up his rear… His head up his rear… Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah! -by Bob B (7-25-21)
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75
(Song title from “Aspects of Love” by Lloyd Webber, Black and Hart) I’ve been on a journey of a lifetime with her, She held my hand and I gripped hers, My lips caressed her neck as with daylight she began to stir. I’ve been on a journey of a lifetime with her, She touched my *** and I loved hers, I never now want to return to the way that things once were.
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Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 7:14 AM UTC
Journey Of A Lifetime
I can't pinpoint the exact moment that music came into my life. It started with my parents, I guess. The radio was always on in our house. I'd watch Mom sway while she cooked or listen to Dad hum while he folded clothes. It was just there. Rod Stewart, ZZ Top, Led Zeppelin, Andrew Llyod Webber, Santana, The Beatles... Everywhere. What I do remember is the first time music moved through me. I turned the volume dial and felt it jump into my finger tips. It traveled through my bloodstream, finding it's place in my heart. There, the music settled... and  hasn't left since. I get the question a lot, you know. "What made you fall so deep into music?". That's the story I tell them. Obviously, not that exact story because they would think me odd for speaking so 'poetically', but close enough. I just tell them it's like the wind -- moving around, in, and through me.
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Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 8:18 PM UTC
Like the Wind
a fish in a tank getting scared by vibration, but it's just a dream. he is not that person anymore; she smiles. she remembers what it was like to belong to him, but she remembers so much else now; her brain is a happy butterfly. the sunlight through the trees pierce his mint green eyes. snow falls around them but she is warm. damp grass sticks to her legs in the warm Wisconsin spring. he giggles at the imprint it leaves. she smiles mischievously and finds her prey; she throws a worm at him. smiles and laughter warm like embers of a fire. she remember that she used to love him. like cats and mice she hated him, for a long time. he was the pesticide to her beloved spiders entangled in webs. he lingered and she hated it. but not anymore. she still loves him, but as old friends love each other. a familiar kind of feeling; reminiscent of a happier time and better places. like George Webber in new York; homesick, but content.
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Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 1:39 AM UTC
As A Friend: Part 2
I wonder if they have a plan for me, I bet they thought I'd make big change Instead of spending my time dancing in the rain. They probably had a career in mind With a golden etched name plate Let me write their map and see If I have the steps straight. Go to school and get good grades To pay a lot to school some more To jump out into a world they didn't prepare me for. Nobody wants my degree, the market's flooding. It's not about what I know, who I know is no one. Remember you're doing this for the money, You're doing this for the security And they're ready to own you for it. It's like seeing a sign that says chips for shots I'd rather hold my pride than give in to a drop I'd help break the bar for that kind of dealing It just shows how quick heroes turn to villains Depending the eyes you see through In the distance of all of that chaos There's a voice in the back of my head yelling, "Just be you"
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Aug 11, 2019
Aug 11, 2019 at 11:43 AM UTC
Webber