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Statue Got Me High

The statue got me high
The statue got me high
A monument of granite sent a beam into my eye
The statue made me die
The statue made me die
It took my hand it killed me and it threw me to the sky
The stone it called to me
(and now I see the things the stone has shown to me)
A rock that spoke a word
(an animated mineral it can be heard)
And though I once preferred a human being's company
they pale before the monolith that towers over me
The statue got me high
The statue got me high
The truth is where the sculptor's chisel chipped away the lie
The statue made me fry
The statue made me fry
My coat contained a furnace where there used to be a guy
The stone it called to me
(and now I see the things the stone has shown to me)
A rock that spoke a word
(an animated mineral it can be heard)
And as the screaming fire engine siren filled the air
the evidence had vanished from my charred and smoking chair
and what they found was just a statue
standing where the statue got me high
And now it is your turn
(your turn to hear the stone and then your turn to burn)
The stone it calls to you
(you can't refuse to do the things it tells you to)
And as the screaming fire engine siren fills the air
the evidence will vanish from your charred and smoking chair
and what they found was just a statue
standing where the statue got me high
and what they'll find is just a statue
standing where the statue got you high

song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Statue Got Me High

The statue got me high
The statue got me high
The monument of granite sent a beam into my eye
The statue made me die
The statue made me die
It took my hand it killed me and it turned me to the sky
The stone it called to me
(and now I see the things the stone has shown to me)
A rock that spoke a word
(an animated mineral it can be heard)
And though I once preferred a human beings company
They pale before the monolith that towers over me
The statue got me high
The statue got me high
The truth is where the sculptors chisel chipped away the lie
The statue made me fry
The statue made me fry
My coat contained a furnace where there used to be a guy
The stone it called to me
(and now I see the things the stone has shown to me)
A rock that spoke a word
(an animated mineral it can be heard)
And as the screaming fire engine siren filled the air
The evidence had vanished from my charred and smoking chair
And what they found was just a statue
Standing where the statue got me high
And what they found was just a statue
Standing where the statue got me high
And now it is your turn
(your turn to hear the stone and then your turn to burn)
The stone it calls to you
(you cant refuse to do the things it tells you to)
And as the screaming fire engine siren fills the air
The evidence will vanish from your charred and smoking chair
And what they found was just a statue
Standing where the statue got me high
And what theyll find is just a statue
Standing where the statue got you high

song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God-Worship

Statues in competitions allover the world!
With one higher than the other from country to country;
But this act is god-worship.
22m High Statue in 'Maratea' (Italy) ,
25m High Statue in 'Cusco' (Peru) ,
27m High Statue in 'Dili' (East Timor) ,
28m High Statue in 'Lissabon' (Portugal) ,
30m High Statue in 'Cochabanba' (Bolivia) ,
And 38m High Statue in 'Swiebodzin' (Poland) ,
All in the name of competition around this world;
But this act is god-worship.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sculpture

A creator is aboard, feelings are strong,
They are sinful, tears run fearing the worst.
The creation is a statue, with one wise eye
And another one to see, so that creations appear.
The sculptor made education real, and so much to know
Appeared before us in a performance.
The creators are splendid at their spectacle,
Proofs are made with violence, predators are loose,
The statue will move, but not move.
A maker seems to sew a stonework even,
With the right chisel, the right skill and doctor.
This created, we all feel well inside,
Just like a living statue, a statue to stare at.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Burns Statue

This Statue, I must confess, is magnificent to see,
And I hope will long be appreciated by the people of Dundee;
It has been beautifully made by Sir John Steell,
And I hope the pangs of hunger he will never feel.

This statue is most elegant in its design,
And I hope will defy all weathers for a very long time;
And I hope strangers from afar with admiration will stare
On this beautiful statue of thee, Immortal Bard of Ayr.

Fellow-citizens, this Statue seems most beautiful to the eye,
Which would cause Kings and Queens for such a one to sigh,
And make them feel envious while passing by
In fear of not getting such a beautiful Statue after they die.

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Statues Crumble

Still and tall as a statue.
I stand straight with perfect posture
At every event.
Be it a birthday party,
Or a funeral.
And, if it is a funeral, I'm the one
Everyone leans on.
'Tis a heavy weight I lift, every time,
And I don't have much stone left now.
Not sure how many more times I can hold them.

I'm losing my stone to rain and other weather.
It's eroding.
How much longer before I
Crumble to the ground,
Just a heap of dust?

I want to stay strong, but I'm weakening.

If I crumble who can put me back
Together again?
If I crumble when I crumble.
Will I ever be a statue again?

Still and strong, I am a statue.
But statues crumble

poem by Raven Lightner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gross Communication

Whose tender eyes
Are a sea of blue
My heart
Does not pertain to you
Thy may be the fairest
Thy may be the one
But alas—
My heart
Has made a decision

That’s as good
As done
Your faultless
To all
The irony
being
You know not
How to enthrall

Your flawless
As a statue
made of stone
emotionless and predictable
As a statue
straight as a table

But be not
tomorrow
what you are today
questions you don't know how to anwser
will be raised
Who you
really are
Is a secret
Even to you

poem by Lexy Sogl
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Mermaid (Quatern Poetry)

In the Red Sea, you were my lonely king of salt,
You were my beautiful statue made of basalt.
On the sea shore, dominating the yellow land,
You were my statue representing the king of sand.

Your body was looking as it was tattooed with smalt.
In the Red Sea, you were my lonely king of salt.
At the water high waves' mobile horizon
I was a mermaid, caught in your love's prison.

I swam to the surface, sometimes, to see you.
You were on your ship, at the dawn's purplish blue.
In the Red Sea, you were my lonely king of salt.
I had your beautiful statue, made of basalt.

I paid to get rid off my tail and to become a woman,
Because I wanted you to be my lover and my man.
You disappeared and your wreck was anchored in Galt,
In the Red Sea, you’re my lonely king of salt.

poem by Marieta Maglas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stone Statue

Hear me
Feel me
Why can't you understand me
My heart is beating
My mind is bleeding
Why can't you hear me
I long to feel a touch
I'm fighting to embrace the warmth
The nectar of life
But yet I am only given strife
Why am I that stone statue
Left alone in a forgotten garden
Gravel tears do I shed
Cracks in my heart and body
They are all I feel
My concrete hands are reaching
My stone eyes are searching
Yet I am alone
The statue of stone
Forgotten amongst lifes cold road...

poem by Janelle Morehart
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There's a statue of Jimmy Stewart in the Hollywood Wax Museum, and the statue talks better than he does.

quote by Dean Martin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I recommend that the Statue of Liberty be supplemented by a Statue of Responsibility on the west coast.

quote by Viktor E. Frankl
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blue Boy

Lady called the blue boy, love,
She took him home
Made himself an idol, yes,
So he turned to stone
Like a pilgrim she travelled
Ta place her flowers
Before his granite grace
And she prayed aloud for love
To waken in his face
In his face, oh __________
Sometimes in the evening
He would read to her
Roll her in his arms
And give his seed to her
She would wake in the morning
Without him
And go to the window
And look out thru the pain
But the statue in her garden
He always looked the same
He looked the same, ah _________
Bring her boots of leather
And she will dance for him
Shyly from a feather fan
Shell glance for him
Here he comes after midnight
To find her again
He will come a few times more
Till he finds a lady statue
Standing in a door
In her door, oh __________

song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Glasgow

Beautiful city of Glasgow, with your streets so neat and clean,
Your stateley mansions, and beautiful Green!
Likewise your beautiful bridges across the River Clyde,
And on your bonnie banks I would like to reside.

Chorus --

Then away to the west -- to the beautiful west!
To the fair city of Glasgow that I like the best,
Where the River Clyde rolls on to the sea,
And the lark and the blackbird whistle with glee.

'Tis beautiful to see the ships passing to and fro,
Laden with goods for the high and the low;
So let the beautiful city of Glasgow flourish,
And may the inhabitants always find food their bodies to nourish.

Chorus

The statue of the Prince of Orange is very grand,
Looking terror to the foe, with a truncheon in his hand,
And well mounted on a noble steed, which stands in the Trongate,
And holding up its foreleg, I'm sure it looks first-rate.

Chorus

Then there's the Duke of Wellington's statue in Royal Exchange Square --
It is a beautiful statue I without fear declare,
Besides inspiring and most magnificent to view,
Because he made the French fly at the battle of Waterloo.

Chorus

And as for the statue of Sir Walter Scott that stands in George Square,
It is a handsome statue -- few with it can compare,
And most elegant to be seen,
And close beside it stands the statue of Her Majesty the Queen.

Chorus

And then there's the statue of Robert Burns in George Square,
And the treatment he received when living was very unfair;
Now, when he's dead, Scotland's sons for him do mourn,
But, alas! unto them he can never return.

Chorus

Then as for Kelvin Grove, it is most lovely to be seen
With its beautiful flowers and trees so green,
And a magnificent water-fountain spouting up very high,
Where the people can quench their thirst when they feel dry.

Chorus

Beautiful city of Glasgow, I now conclude my muse,
And to write in praise of thee my pen does not refuse;
And, without fear of contradiction, I will venture to say
You are the second grandest city in Scotland at the present day!

poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Combat Encounter

After he opened the door,
A monster was presented;
It was a statue of stone for them,
But now the statue was real.
They left the room like danger
And was it anger? Or fury of it?
Amusement was complete,
Our hands held swords in
Preparation, ready for combat.

He aired his message as a monster
Of butchers and spells,
Leaving us with plenty,
But not more than life,
For the budding brains of ours
Managed to dispel this wickedness
And we are safe.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Statue of Our Queen

PRIDE, selfishness in every line,
And on its face a frown,
It stands, a sceptre in its hand,
And points forever down.
And who will kneel? The unemployed!
Small homage pay, I ween,
The only men who gather ’neath
The Statue of our Queen.

I’d scarcely wonder if the sun,
That rises with good grace,
Should sink and leave the day undone
At sight of such a face.
But no! The day will still have birth
In all its golden sheen,
When antiquarians unearth
The Statue of our Queen.

Then if you’d have us loyal bide
As we have loyal been,
Great Parkes! for love of England, hide
The Statue of our Queen.

poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I've always had a strong feeling for the Statue of Liberty, because it became the statue of my personal liberty.

quote by David Antin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sorrowful Cries

Clouds of cold, dark depressant
Roll over my loathsome state.
Life has become boring suppressant
To this romantic’s lost love relate.

Agéd air dust, in my lungs, consume
Encompassing sweet aroma
Of passion’s addicting perfume
As this Don Juan lies in coma.

Warm, fast flowing red liquid
Turns frigid blue, sluggish slop
As salty tear drizzle invokes mud;
Dried, hardened crust, from toe to top.

Compassionate, loving heart
Fades to solid, stone elect
As companionships depart
And stone, statue body erect.

Mother Willow solemnly weeps
As sapling statue slowly crumples.
Father time unknowingly sleeps
As rusted heart statue fumbles.

Decayed and falling apart,
This romantic's remains rise;
From ill-beaten ash heart
To ride wind’s sorrowful cries.

poem by Robert L. Bixler III
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forever, I am there

I, too was once a human being
Now, mearely a long stand statue
Two large gazing eyes of stone
Who forever waits for you.
I was not what I am to day
Rather I was something else
Your love made me so. A mere
Human being to a stone stained
Now, I live in stone and
You, in my heart. Thus
Call me from anywhere
Forever, I am there.

poem by Vizard Dhawan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sound of Silence

I’m walking down the street
and I hear the sculptor in his house
working on his statue of Krishna

and the chisel rings out on the stone
like a bell that wants to tell you something:

the stone saying, I am perfectly made for this;
the chisel saying, I am perfectly made for this;
the sculptor saying, this is prayer;

Krishna saying, I shall enter this.

And I hear in the sound of the chisel on the stone,
as sure as I know my own name,
that the sculptor is listening to all this too.

The bell-like sound lingers in the air
as if the air would keep it for ever
as the air’s prayer. It’s music.

The clearer the sound
of his striking chisel on stone,
the deeper the silence

as if sound and silence between them
know a secret: that sounds like this
can do anything in the world;

even call Krishna with their music
to play at being stone for us.

The stone’s laughing also:
playing at being Krishna.
They’re both laughing.
The sculptor is smiling too.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Statue of Liberty

the statue of liberty,
it's either black or white
depends on who you are.
it turned quite black
years ago but refurbished
to look brand new, of course
the last thing it should do
is turn black.
the hackneyed mushy
writings about the relief
our ancestors heaved
while reaching america's shores
upon seeing this statue
is a white lie.
the only thing if at all,
the liberty statue
has come to anything is
that it is still trying hard
to stand up for what it is
- to stand tall in the darkest hours
and the broadest daylight.
its torch is marble and never really meant
to illuminate right from wrong.
it wept silent tears over the mockeries
heaped upon him, that it was the first to greet rusty chains, shackles, corpses...
and skin-covered starved and
all human indignities day in and day out
when it was installed.
amid these, the white angels to the
new land claimed for freedom laughed
and perpetrated similar injustices
that fuelled their flight.
america's freedom has always lay
in the hearts of sincere americans - black or white.
our statue needs a real torch and flame
to brighten up those corners of our hearts that we have kept dark.

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.

quote by Michelangelo
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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