Books are the way the dead talk to the living.
quote by Laurie Anderson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Start Living
(Steven Dale Jones/Amy Powers)
He just can't wait to graduate
He's marking time and counting days
He'll toss that cap and watch that tassel fly
So he can start living
Yeah, finally start living
'Cause he's got big plans
And he'll have time on his hands
To start living
Before he knows ten years are gone
A dead-end job, a mortgage loan
He wonders where the chances passed him by
To really start living
Yeah he wants to start living
And soon he's sure
He can finally afford
To start living
He'll read more books
He'll make more love
He'll talk more to the man above
He'll watch the sunset in the west
And visit Mexico
He'll learn to cook, he'll play some ball
He'll write that book, he'll make that call
He'll take the time
Some other time
Someday he'll do it all
Well sittin' in the barber chair
He sees the silver in his hair
Those golden years are comin' right behind
And then he'll start living
He'll really start living
Yeah he feels tired
Ah, but soon he'll retire
And start living
He'll read more books
He'll make more love
He'll talk more to the man above
He'll watch the sunset in the west
And visit Mexico
He'll learn to cook, he'll play some ball
He'll write that book, he'll make that call
He'll take the time
Some other time
Someday he'll do it all
Well the doctor says, I've got bad news
Afraid there's nothing we can do
And all at once the tears are in his eys
He'll never start living
Never really start living
Yeah he had big plans
But there's no time on his hands
To start living
When he sees the pearly gates
He'll really start living
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Books are as tombstones made by the living for the living, but destined soon only to remind us of the dead.
John Uri Lloyd in Etidorhpa; or, The End of Earth, Preface (1895)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Talking.... (Who Listens?)
even the silence of the night talks,
small children talk in their dreams;
old people talk staring out windows...
trees talk shedding leaves,
empty buildings talk to ghosts;
dead bones talk to the wind...
the wind talks those who mourn.
the hungry talk to their oppressors,
the prisoner talks to the walls.
the desperate talk to the noose,
lovers talk with simple touch.
soldiers talk to their fears,
the unborn talk to our decisions.
the moon talks to the night,
and the night talks to the dawn.
the soul of man talks,
and calls it god.
the conscience talks to the heart.
death talks to the living....
who listens?
who really hears?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Books Are Burning
Books are burning
In the main square, and I saw there
The first eating the text
Books are burning
In the still air
And you know where they burn books
People are next
I believe the printed word should be forgiven
Doesnt matter what it said
Wisdom hotline from the dead back to the living
Key to the larder for your heart and head
Books are burning
In our own town, watch us turn round
And cast our glances elsewhere
Books are burning
In the playground
Smell of burnt book is not unlike human hair
I believe the printed word is more than sacred
Beyond the gauge of good or bad
The human right to let your soul fly free and naked
Above the violence of the fearful and sad
The church of matches
Anoints in ignorance with gasoline
The church of matches
Grows fat by breathing in the smoke of dreams
Its quite obscene
Books are burning
More each day now, and I pray now
You boys will tire of these games
Books are burning
I hope somehow, this will allow
A phoenix up from the flames
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Know I Have A Copy Somewhere
Wherever you may choose to look
You're guaranteed to find a book.
Perhaps a murder mystery.
Anthologies of poetry
Reference books and picture books.
Books on witchcraft and black magic
Tomes on almost any topic.
Some by authors long since dead.
Books which try to look ahead.
Books of every shape and size.
As I have come to realise.
Enough to start a library
Though jumbled up haphazardly.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dead Or Alive
There in the shadows, looks like a hand
Without its owner, to give it a command
Its got a purpose but I dont know what it is
Im in trouble
There in the streets, looks like a man
But something wrong that I dont understand
His eyes are open but he dont see a thing
His skin is peeling off, his bones are sticking out
Im getting scared
Oh my God (is it dead? )
Is it living? (is it dead? )
Is it dead or alive?
(is it dead? ), is it dead? (is it dead? )
Is it dead? (is it dead? )
Is it dead or alive?
Hiding in the cupboards, like little mice
Hiding in the frigerator, that isnt nice
Its not an animal, it dont have legs
No one else can see it
It moves so fast, corner of my eye
Look again its gone, its hiding
Wont somebody help me, doesnt anybody care?
It waits so patiently, for me to lose my guard
Im getting scared
Is it dead, is it
(is it dead)
Is it dead
(is it dead)
Is it dead or alive
(is it dead)
Is it dead
(is it dead)
Is it dead, is it
I remember there was a time
When dead and buried meant just that
Underneath the cold dark ground
Things stay put!
Oh them bones they make them bodies walk
Them bones, them bones
If they could only talk!
Is it dead (fade)
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We should be as careful of the books we read, as of the company we keep. The dead very often have more power than the living.
quote by Tryon Edwards
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poems and Life
her poems are her life
her life is her poems
they tell a story
of the one that’s dead
but yet is not
“the miracle child”
dead at four weeks but is now 15 years old
the child was not going to
walk
talk
or even feed her
“she’s going to be a veggie”
the doctors said
she can now do it all
all at once if you would
like for her to
“she’s going to die from a seizure at four weeks”
the doctors said
but now 15, has fought though epilepsy
thanks to her brother that always was there for her
always supported her
and has been scissure free for
five years
(since her dad died)
is the child a miracle
doctors think so
she’s in the record books
but is she a miracle or was it just luck
I’ll let you diced
this child i talk about is almost a women
and
she’s standing right in front of you
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dead End Street
Theres a crack up in the ceiling,
And the kitchen sink is leaking.
Out of work and got no money,
A sunday joint of bread and honey.
What are we living for?
Two-roomed apartment on the second floor.
No money coming in,
The rent collectors knocking, trying to get in.
We are strictly second class,
We dont understand,
(dead end!)
Why we should be on dead end street.
(dead end!)
People are living on dead end street.
(dead end!)
Gonna die on dead end street.
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
On a cold and frosty morning,
Wipe my eyes and stop me yawning.
And my feet are nearly frozen,
Boil the tea and put some toast on.
What are we living for?
Two-roomed apartment on the second floor.
No chance to emigrate,
Im deep in debt and now its much too late.
We both want to work so hard,
We cant get the chance,
(dead end!)
People live on dead end street.
(dead end!)
People are dying on dead end street.
(dead end!)
Gonna die on dead end street.
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
(dead end!)
People live on dead end street.
(dead end!)
People are dying on dead end street.
(dead end!)
Gonna die on dead end street.
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Head to my feet (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Hows it feel? (yeah)
Hows it feel? (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
Dead end street (yeah)
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Soil And Stone Too Are Living Things
the hair on its own
is a line of dead cells
but when it's on the head
it's part of a living spirit
the sand on its own is a
startling patch of the reality
of the non living
but put in the water, put in air
light and seeds and it
becomes a part of the living world
take away any of these the living entity
dwindles into a dead plane
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Hundred Books
A thousand books my library
Contains;
And all are primed, it seems to me
With brains.
Mine are so few I scratch in thought
My head;
For just a hundred of the lot
I've read.
A hundred books, but of the best,
I can
With wisdom savour and digest
And scan.
Yet when afar from kin and kith
In nooks
Of quietness I'm happy with
Sweet books.
So as nine hundred at me stare
In vain,
My lack I'm wistfully aware
Of brain;
Yet as my leave of living ends,
With looks
Of love I view a hundred friends,
My books.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Books
The universe (which others call the library). . .
-Jorge Luis Borges
Books which are stitched up the center with coarse white thread
Books on the beach with sunglass-colored pages
Books about food with pictures of weeping grapefruits
Books about baking bread with browned corners
Books about long-haired Frenchmen with uncut pages
Books of erotic engravings with pages that stick
Books about inns whose stars have sputtered out
Books of illuminations surrounded by darkness
Books with blank pages & printed margins
Books with fanatical footnotes in no-point type
Books with book lice
Books with rice-paper pastings
Books with book fungus blooming over their pages
Books with pages of skin with flesh-colored bindings
Books by men in love with the letter O
Books which smell of earth whose pages turn
poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It is chiefly through books that we enjoy intercourse with superior minds. In the best books, great men talk to us, give us their most precious thoughts, and pour their souls into ours.
quote by William Ellery Channing
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When we talk about something
When we talk about movies
i like comedies, dramas, westerns,
adventures, sci-fi, animations
When we talk about books
i like novels, poetry, short stories,
non-fiction, biographies
When we talk about TV Programs
i like comedies, dramas, cartoons,
game shows, news programs
When w talk aboout music
i like classical, pop, jazz, rock,
country, ballad, r&b, hiphop
When we talk about sports
i like football, baseball, soccer,
golf, hockey, tennis, pingpong
When we talk about poet
i certainly love you,
even if you don't write for me.
poem by Hazel Calumarde
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don't try to talk anyone out of concentrating his hatred on Ayn Rand or any other dead person. It can't harm the dead. Diverted to a living person, it might actually do harm.
quote by John McCarthy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dead And Broken
Too many things I've never spoken
I'm not feeling fine
I never told you what to do
I never made you a promise that you could hold me to
That'll be the day you see me crying
Everyday, I still say you're dead and broken
Everyday, I still say you're dead and broken
You're dead and broken
How many different faces can you show me?
How many times can you be right?
Another world of fantasy
Another reason for dramatizing everything
Taking it all in just one more time
I'm dying
Everyday, I still say you're dead and broken
Everyday, I still say you're dead and broken
You're dead and broken
Sorry to see that you're underestimated lately
I'd rather be dead and broken than living in your grace
Everyday, I still say you're dead and broken
Everyday, I still say you're dead and broken
You're dead and broken
You're dead and broken
You're dead and broken
You're dead and broken
You're dead and broken
You're dead and broken
You're dead and broken
song performed by by Godsmack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dead Folk Don't Talk
On the day she died they all came,
though I was shocked they recalled her name
but they drank our booze and ate our cake
yeah they ate our cake alright.
Maybe they meant well
maybe not
but you can't keep dead folk company
for dead folk, they don't talk.
Nobody came and nobody called
when she was ill and dying.
Nobody seemed to care at all
and now they're all here crying.
Maybe they meant well
maybe not
but you can't keep dead folk company
for dead folk, they don't talk.
So I sat there dazed and out of control
listening to them talking,
but when she were alive, the house was still,
just me and mother sighing.
Maybe they meant well
maybe not
but you can't keep dead folk company
for dead folk, they don't talk.
And afterwards, when they all went
I carried out her last requests.
I moved her gas fire, paid the rent
and left a note to the dairyman.
Nobody came and nobody called
when she was ill and dying.
Nobody seemed to care at all
and if they say they did, they're lying.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I still love books. Nothing a computer can do can compare to a book. You can't really put a book on the Internet. Three companies have offered to put books by me on the Net, and I said, 'If you can make something that has a nice jacket, nice paper with that nice smell, then we'll talk.' All the computer can give you is a manuscript. People don't want to read manuscripts. They want to read books. Books smell good. They look good. You can press them to your bosom. You can carry them in your pocket.
quote by Ray Bradbury
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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White Dicussion
I talk of freedom
you talk of the flag
I talk of revolution
you'd much rather brag
and as the decibels of this disenchanting
discourse continue to dampen the day
the coin flips again and again and again
and again as our sanity walks away
all this discussion
though politically correct
is dead beyond destruction
though it leaves me quite erect
and as the final sunset rolls behind the earth
and the clock is finally dead
I'll look at you, you'll look at me
and we'll cray a lot
but this will be what we said
this will be what we said
look where all this talking got us baby
song performed by by Live
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Books are but waste paper unless we spend in action the wisdom we get from thought - asleep. When we are weary of the living, we may repair to the dead, who have nothing of peevishness, pride, or design in their conversation.
quote by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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