Sad Peter Pan
Its the plan of most
To discover that magnificent ghost
When did I get perverted
And my innocent eyes diverted from the view so grand
Imbued with distractions
Im greedy like senior babbitt
Im just chasing that electric rabbit
Im a reluctant rebel
I just want to be aaron neville
With a crown on my head
And my denim shirt all dark with sweat
Im just pushing the paint around
On advice from your lying mouth
You touched me and then you ran
And left a sad peter pan
All alone and awkward
But a transformation, I swear it will occur
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
So now I have a collection of poetry by Aaron Neville and I give it to people I want to share it with. I'd like to publish it someday.
quote by Aaron Neville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tired Eyes
Well he shot four men in a cocaine deal
And he left them lyin in an open field
Full of old cars with bullet holes in the mirrors.
He tried to do his best but he could not.
Please take my advice, please take my advice
Please take my advice.
Open up the tired eyes,
Open up the tired eyes.
Well, it wasnt supposed to go down that way.
But they burned his brother, you know,
And they left him lying in the driveway.
They let him down with nothin.
He tried to do his best but he could not.
Please take my advice, please take my advice
Please take my advice.
Open up the tired eyes,
Open up the tired eyes.
Well tell me more, tell me more, tell me more
I mean was he a heavy doper or was he just a loser?
He was a friend of yours.
What do you mean, he had bullet holes in his mirrors?
He tried to do his best but he could not.
Please take my advice, please take my advice
Please take my advice.
Open up the tired eyes,
Open up the tired eyes.
Please take my advice, please take my advice
Please take my advice.
Open up the tired eyes,
Open up the tired eyes.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If you had told me I'd be making 62 tomorrow, I'd say you were lying.
quote by Aaron Neville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Distractions
What is this thing in life that persuades me to spend
Time away from you?
If you can answer this you can have the moon.
This is the place to be, anyway you can see
Theres a lovely view.
Why are there always so many other things to do?
Distractions, like butterflies are buzzing round my head,
When Im alone I think of you
And the life wed lead if we could only be free
From these distractions.
The postmans at the door
While the telephone rings on the kitchen wall,
Pretend were not at home and theyll disappear.
I want to be with you, tell me what I can do,
Nothing is too small
Away from all this jazz we could do anything at all.
Distractions, like butterflies are buzzing round my head.
When Im alone I think of you
And the things wed do if we could only be through
With these distractions.
Ill fond the peaceful place far a way from the noise of a busy
Day
Where we can spend our nights counting shooting stars,
Distractions, like butterflies are buzzing round my head.
When Im alone I think of you
And the things wed do if we could only be through
With these distractions, like butterflies theyre
Buzzing round my head, when Im alone I think of you
And the life wed lead if we could only be free
From these distractions.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bad Denim
You've got a rack so stacked.
When you move,
You're like a 'caddy'.
And smooth like a 'rolls'...
Wherever you go.
Some folks wear jeans,
That scream when they're in them.
My eyes look away...
But on you,
They stay!
Bad denim.
Some other people make them look like,
Bad denim.
They shouldn't even try to fit them,
Bad denim.
When you wear 'your' blue jeans,
You lift my low self esteem.
Some other people need to quit,
Trying to squeeze them till they rip.
Bad denim.
Some other people make them look like,
Bad denim.
They shouldn't even try to fit in,
Bad denim.
When I see you from the back,
There's no sad sagging that's a fact.
You're like a smooth moving 'caddy'.
With a packed stacked rack.
Some folks wear jeans,
That scream when they're in them.
My eyes look away...
But on you,
They stay!
Bad denim.
Some other people make them look like,
Bad denim.
They shouldn't even try to fit them,
Bad denim.
My eyes look away...
But on you,
They stay!
Bad denim.
Some other people make them look like,
Bad denim.
They shouldn't even try to fit them,
Bad denim.
My eyes look away...
But on you,
They stay!
Bad denim.
Some other people make them look like,
Bad denim.
They shouldn't even try to fit them,
Bad denim.
You've got a rack so stacked.
When you move,
You're like a 'caddy'.
And smooth like a 'rolls'...
Wherever you go.
Bad denim.
Everybody can't fit in 'em.
Bad denim.
Everybody can't fit in 'em.
Bad denim.
Everybody can't fit in 'em.
Bad denim.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Inside My Head
Every time you think of me like your goddamn trophy
It just pushes me away
Pushes me away
I never said that I'd make you mine
Why do you insist on pushing all the time
I know it's not my vivid imagination
Telling you lies
Telling you lies
It's funny how you found the time
To expose yourself and be another one of these
Psychos all around me
Psychos all around me
Like to say my head's not right
My head's not right
Medicated aren't we all
Turning into you
Got me crazed with what you do
Inside my head there's a vision of you
And nothing's changing
Nothing's changing
I want to run away
And you says it's alright
I want to run away
Walk away
Just go
I think you're pushing, pushing
To seek and discover to notice you're different than all the rest
Kepp telling me to ask why
Would it really hurt you to leave me alone sometimes
To seek and discover your genius uncovered
Your pain
Nothing's changing
Nothing's changing
Medicated aren't we all
Turn me into you
Got me crazed with what you do
Inside my head there's a vision of you
And nothing's changing
Nothing's changing
I want to run away
And you says it's alright
I want to run away
Pushing me away
Pushing me away
Pushing me away
Pushing me, pushing me
Pushing me
Medicated aren't we all
Turning into you
Got me crazed with what you do
Inside my head there's a vision of you
And nothing's changing
Medicated aren't we all
Turning into you
Got me crazed with what you do
You do
Inside my head there's a vision of you
And nothing's changing
Nothing's changing
Nothing's changing
Maybe it's not me
It's all inside my head
Maybe it's not me
It's all inside my head
And nothing's changing
It's all inside my head
And nothing's changing
It's all inside my head
song performed by by Orgy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do I Consider Me A Senior? 2nd Version
What construes a senior, that we are no more leaner?
What construes a senior, our skin begins to look saggy?
What construes a senior, we wear clothes that are baggy?
What construes a senior, our hair has changed to grey?
What construes a senior, we go to church, we pray?
What construes a senior, we walk with bended stoop?
What construes a senior, we can't control our poop?
What construes a senior, we live in a nursing home?
What construes a senior, we don't need a comb?
What construes a senior, we have all but one tooth?
What construes a senior, medication is like a loot?
What construes a senior, feeding the pidgeons is a hoot?
What construes a senior, no solids only liquid food?
What construes a senior, the time seems to fly?
What construes a senior, we shrivel and slowly die?
What construes a senior, we learn how to survive.
What construes a senior, we do our best with our remaining life.
I am now crossover fifty,
but I am still very nifty!
Rebel in the Dark
You're a rebel in the dark with nothing to see,
You're looking for answers, but nothing is clear,
And you're still too dumb to know any fear,
You're searching for the light that you can't see,
You're trying to get away so that you can breathe,
You're a rebel in the dark with nothing to see,
You're a rebel in the dark with nothing to see,
You're looking for something that you can believe,
You're surrounded by ignorance, fear and greed,
You're so confused that you're starting to bleed,
You're no longer sure what it is that you need,
You're a rebel in the dark with nothing to see,
You're a rebel in the dark with nothing to see,
And you're hoping there's someone to set you free,
But you'll settle for anyone who will just care,
You're still not sure why it is that you're here,
And you know that life just isn't fair,
You're a rebel in the dark with nothing to see,
You're a rebel in the dark with nothing to see,
You realize that you're the only one who cares,
You're searching for the light that you can't see,
Why don't you look inside and you will find,
A light so bright it will make you go blind!
You're a rebel in the dark with nothing to see,
You're a rebel in the dark with nothing to see,
Just take a look inside and you will find,
That light so bright it will make you go blind!
24 October 2012
poem by David Andre' Klopper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rebel To Rebel
When the night winds down and my thoughts run deep
And the Lord hangs a black cat moon
As I lie awake I swear I heard a song in the wind
In the southern breeze I can hear the strummin'
of a six string just outta tune
And a whisky soaked voice
Singing 'bout places he's been
Cuttin' through the night
Like a siren's song
He's tellin' me tonight
Gotta spread the news along
Chorus:
Rebel to rebel
To anyone who's ever tried
Rebel to rebel
To take on the other side
Callin' out his name as night is falling
A brother's voice is calling
Sending messages through the past
To rebels like me and you
I can see his face as I watch the stars
From a tour bus heading from town
With a wink and a smile
He'd tell me things words couldn't say
To be a street survivor
Boy you gotta stand tall
Keep that dream in your heart
I'll be there in the fight
Nothing gonna stand in our way
Well I'm taking his advice
As I sing this song
Let fortune roll the dice
And don't you ever forget where you 're from
Chorus:
Rebel to rebel
Now I see him walk away
Rebel to rebel
Here it come
Now I hear his voice again
Rebel to rebel
To anyone who's ever tried
Rebel to rebel
To take on the other side
Callin' out his name as night is falling
A brothers voice is calling
Rebel to rebel oooh rebels like me
Rebel to rebel, rebel to rebel, rebel to rebel
song performed by by 38 Special
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Devil You Were
I keep telling myself that I don't need you
but you keep whispering in my ear telling me that I do
and I believe you
I believe everything you say
even though it was everything you said
I paint the picture of you on my white ceiling when I'm lying alone in my bed
I paint the picture of you on my white ceiling when I'm lying alone in my bed
Because no other girl has been here since you left
and for no other girl have I shead a tear, I'm all cried out I have none left
cause I know you love to think that you took them all
but they were gone long before
for you I didn't watch a single one fall, I was never alive I was already dead
I paint the picture of you on my white ceiling when I'm lying alone in my bed
I paint the picture of you on my white ceiling when I'm lying alone in my bed
and I paint it red
I paint it red
the colour of blood shows that it is already dead
I keep telling myself that I don't need you
but you keep whispering in my ear telling me that I do
and I believe you
I believe everything is red
even though it was everything you said
I paint the picture of you on my white ceiling when I'm lying alone in my bed
and it is all red
he paints it red
my picture of his horns it shows its now never dead.
poem by Daniel McCann
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Do I consider me a senior?
I am now fifty but I am still nifty.
What construes a senior, that we are no more leaner?
What construes a senior, our skin begins to look saggy?
What construes a senior, we wear clothes that are baggy?
What construes a senior, our hair has changed to grey?
What construes a senior, we go to church, we pray?
What construes a senior, we walk with bended stoop?
What construes a senior, we can't control our poop?
What construes a senior, we live in a nursing home?
What construes a senior, we don't need a comb?
What construes a senior, we have all but one tooth?
What construes a senior, medication is like a loot?
What construes a senior, feeding the pidgeons is a hoot?
What construes a senior, no solids only liquid food?
What construes a senior, the time seems to fly?
What construes a senior, we shrivel and slowly die?
What construes a senior, we learn how to survive
What construes a senior, we do our best with our remaining life.
Copyright Philo Yan August 20,2012
It's Grand
It's grand to be a squatter
And sit upon a post,
And watch your little ewes and lambs
A-giving up the ghost.
It's grand to be a "cockie"
With wife and kids to keep,
And find an all-wise Providence
Has mustered all your sheep.
It's grand to be a Western man,
With shovel in your hand,
To dig your little homestead out
From underneath the sand.
It's grand to be a shearer
Along the Darling-side,
And pluck the wool from stinking sheep
That some days since have died.
It's grand to be a rabbit
And breed till all is blue,
And then to die in heaps because
There's nothing left to chew.
It's grand to be a Minister
And travel like a swell,
And tell the Central District folk
To go to -- Inverell.
It's grand to be a socialist
And lead the bold array
That marches to prosperity
At seven bob a day.
It's grand to be unemployed
And lie in the Domain,
And wake up every second day --
And go to sleep again.
It's grand to borrow English tin
To pay for wharves and docks
And then to find it isn't in
The little money-box.
It's grand to be a democrat
And toady to the mob,
For fear that if you told the truth
They'd hunt you from your job.
It's grand to be a lot of things
In this fair Southern land,
But if the Lord would send us rain,
That would, indeed, be grand!
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Bull For Me
I think, Sirs, and most inimitable Ladies
I think I prefer to look at a bull
The sketch of a bull, the head of a bull perhaps
even if but a study by an artist
rather than some fancy prophet in glorious paint
or in grand chapel or some miracle recounted
in paint and colors and with consummate skill
or even God descending
ah, all these do not take my fancy
they smack too much of the Elevated;
there’s too much
of the grandstanding in these
Grand Divine Themes
but the face of a bull, ah give me a sketch
of the face of a bull
just the bull, all marks of nature in it
and just itself
no symbolism, no conceit, no artifice
no High sounding theology, no Revelation
but just animal nature in its nudity
being a bull
just animal, its eyes and mouth and horns
just all coming together to form one creature
a portrait of a bull anytime for me
Sirs and most inimitable Ladies
none of the Holy Ones and the Great Prophets
and the Mighty and the Divine
and the Grand-Looking:
no bull for me, please;
just the plain head of a bull, as it is
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Ghost Behind My Eyes
There is person living in my head
She comes to visit every night in bed
I fight the demon, but it just wont fall
The voices in my dungeon starting to call
The spiders dancing on the wall
Suicide of love we could have had it all
And it is you, you are the ghost behind my eyes
The ghost that tells me lies
The princess of the dark has made my mind home
My haunted head and her wont leave me alone
She dances on my heart with fire in my soul
I hate that feeling when Im loosing control
The spiders dancing on the wall
Suicide of love we could have had it all
And it is you, you are the ghost behind my eyes
The ghost that tells me lies
I wish to God that I could sleep
Again, oh peace again
And wake up from this nightmare
Free again
Free again, oh me again
There is a woman in my head
She comes to visit every night in bed
The spiders dancing on the wall
Suicide of love we could have had it all
And it is you, you are the ghost behind my eyes
You, you are the ghost behind my eyes
You, you are the ghost behind my eyes
Behind my eyes
The ghost behind my eyes
song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Aaron Stark
Withal a meagre man was Aaron Stark, --
Cursed and unkempt, shrewd, shrivelled, and morose.
A miser was he, with a miser's nose,
And eyes like little dollars in the dark.
His thin, pinched mouth was nothing but a mark;
And when he spoke there came like sullen blows
Through scattered fangs a few snarled words and close,
As if a cur were chary of its bark.
Glad for the murmur of his hard renown,
Year after year he shambled through the town, --
A loveless exile moving with a staff;
And oftentimes there crept into his ears
A sound of alien pity, touched with tears, --
And then (and only then) did Aaron laugh.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Everything Is Going To Be Like My Plan
Duty must be fulfilled
But everything is going to be like my plan
People could lie to me
But everything is going to be like my plan
Pray may be often
But everything is going to be like my plan
Time flies uncontrolled
But everything is going to be like my plan
Destiny may not be cooperated
But everything is going to be like my plan
Other plan may ruin mine
But everything is going to be like my plan
Body is reaching the limit
But everything is going to be like my plan
The will should be strengthened
But everything is going to be like my plan
The anxiety may be doubled
But everything is going to be like my plan
Critics never disappear
But everything is going to be like my plan
Life is unfair
But everything is going to be like my plan
The way seems lost
But everything is going to be like my plan
Regret is gnawing my sense
But everything is going to be like my plan
The goal still far away
But everything is going to be like my plan
The future end may unseen
But everything is going to be like my plan
Source may not be enough
But everything is going to be like my plan
Things always change
But everything is going to be like my plan
Problem keeps occurring
But everything is going to be like my plan
World would laugh
But everything is going to be like my plan
Failure keeps happening
But everything is going to be like my plan
Memories may not help
But everything is going to be like my plan
Luck may test me
But everything is going to be like my plan
Love may not support me
But everything is going to be like my plan
Weather wants to rebel
But everything is going to be like my plan
The form may be different
But everything is going to be like my plan
Hope could fool me
But everything is going to be like my plan
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Devotion
admiration followed him from the men and women
of the beach as he walks one summer
his skin glowing to the sun: gold
the color of mud, his hair blowing freely
on his head, his steps mellow to the sand
a young maiden from the village follows him
at a distance but not so near bringing him his shirt
neatly folded in her hands-
a little bit angry, she looks at him lifting her eyes
but again not so near
she gives up devotion and throws his shirt
on the grey sand
runs toward the other end of the shore
and disappears
her feet are so tiny leaving this awkward
cloud when she runs away from him
he sees her vanish
ignoring what cloud she left from her tiny feet
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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First Meeting
It is truly a wonderous thing
To be a poet
To be able to bend words
In ways which thy heart yearns
To paint a scene
For all
to behold
And to wrap thy eyes
About its figures
Tis truly grand
To be gifted
with thy hands,
mind,
tongue.
But wonderous more
is the endeavour of
being
in the prescence
of a fellow poet.
When this happening
was bestowed
on me,
Twas truly magnificent
To know that one day
Thirty-five years from now
I could be
as grand as he
In mutual recognition
That both had talent
He as the mentor
Myself, the humble pupil
And as I took his book away with me
We exchanged a glance as only
two poets can.
And I could see
The words I wanted
to paint,
Pen used as artist's brush.
Expressing how it feels
to exchange a glance
as only two poets can.
poem by Courtney Beaudry
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Dark And Hungry
Dark and hungry,
i grope for your mouth,
swallowing lava burnt air,
lips blistered with prayer.
ducks quacking in flight,
Nickels and dimes in the ashtray...
a song on the radio,
cant remember the name.
hands shake just a little,
unbuttoning your shirt.
a small trail of sweat
between your breasts disappears.
You breathing in gasps,
or not breathing at all....
slide my hand to your longing,
tilt your head, close your eyes...
Grey clouds on the horizon,
miles go by without markers...
two horses in the pasture
not yet victims to time.
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don't Go Chasing Shadows
Don't go chasing shadows
When the night is a lion
Into a night that goes
With the last of a lonely ion
The night is in my love song
Thru the dark and mist
All days that touches and long
That yearning have kissed
Day by day left behind
Morning weary waking eyes
To the light day shall find
In the mist of daybreak skies
Don't go chasing shadows
When the night is a lion
Into a night that goes
With the last of a lonely ion
All in heart of the deep
Blossoms growing in spring
What they felt in their sleep
As they turn around to sing
Tomorrow´s awaking call
Feelings torching like lullabies
Beautiful dreams for all
Making love and inner ties
Dreams will never come true
If you keep on going lonely
Never seeing them coming thru
Just being inside of you only
Don't go chasing shadows
Don't go chasing shadows
When the night is a lion
Into a night that goes
With the last of a lonely ion
poem by Peter S. Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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