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Munition Maker
I am the Cannon King, behold!
I perish on a throne of gold.
With forest far and turret high,
Renowned and rajah-rich am I.
My father was, and his before,
With wealth we owe to war on war;
But let no potentate be proud . . .
There are no pockets in a shroud.
By nature I am mild and kind,
To gentleness and ruth inclined;
And though the pheasants over-run
My woods I will not touch a gun.
Yet while each monster that I forge
Thunders destruction form its gorge.
Death's whisper is, I vow, more loud . . .
There are no pockets in a shroud.
My time is short, my ships at sea
Already seem like ghosts to me;
My millions mock me I am poor
As any beggar at my door.
My vast dominion I resign,
Six feet of earth to claim is mine,
Brooding with shoulders bitter-bowed . . .
There are no pockets in a shroud.
Dear God, let me purge my heart,
And be of heaven's hope a part!
Flinging my fortune's foul increase
To fight for pity, love and peace.
Oh that I could with healing fare,
And pledged to poverty and prayer
Cry high above the cringing crowd:
"Ye fools! Be not Mammon cowed . . .
There are no pockets in a shroud."
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It is not helpful to help a friend by putting coins in his pockets when he has got holes in his pockets.
quote by Douglas Hurd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Charity Begins At Home
A shake of the tin
The money drops in, but is it a sin
Youre standing in rags
Youre selling your flags
But who gets the dough at the end of the day
We saw your drop-dead fancy wheels
Your little house up on the hill
But when your conscience pricks
A little sacrifice sweetens the pill
So keep your hands in your pockets
Charity begins at home
Keep your hands in your pockets
Charity wont leave you alone
We take to the stage
The audience rave, were doing our bit
A heavenly cast, a blast from the past
Theres a song to be sung, will it make number one
We wanna see your money roll
But our eyes are on the hall of fame
'cos business is business
And hits are the name of the game
So keep your hands in your pockets
Charity begins at home
Keep your hands in your pockets
Charity wont leave you alone
Everywhere that we turn
There are mouths to be fed
How can we sleep
The battle goes on while were
Safe in our beds
So dont turn away
No dont turn away
Your doors are locked
You switch on the box to take in a show
You think that youre safe
But here comes that face
And wouldnt you know its that message again
They want to take your plastic cash
Your hand reaches out to the phone
Keep your hands in your pockets
Charity begins at home
Keep your hands in your pockets
Charity begins at home
Keep your hands in your pockets
Charity wont leave you alone
Everywhere that we turn
There are mouths to be fed
How can we sleep
The battle goes on while were
Safe in our beds
So dont turn away
No dont turn away
Keep your hands in your pockets
Charity begins at home
Keep your hands in your pockets
Charity wont leave you alone
(repeat 5x)
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We say that anytime budgets are balanced and an ample savings account has been set aside, government should just stop collecting taxes. Better to leave that money in the pockets of those who earned it, than to let it burn a hole, as it always does, in the pockets of government.
quote by Mitch Daniels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Digging Real Deep
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch or a feel of return.
And a lesson's not learned,
That...
A deposit made to dip,
For tasty lips...
Took too many dips,
To withdrawn the end of it.
And there will be no return...
You put that last deposit in your pocket,
And then you split...
With it.
You put that last deposit in your pocket,
And then you split...
With it.
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch or a feel of return.
And a lesson's not learned,
That...
A deposit made to dip,
For tasty lips...
Took too many dips,
To withdrawn the end of it.
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch of return,
IS...
Digging real deep.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch of return,
IS...
Digging real deep
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch of return,
Long ago had been burned.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Shroud Of Midnight
As the shroud of midnight falls
over sleeping garden walls
and the moon hides behind a cloud
the ghosts of lovers past lay bare
the tracks they used to follow.
Down leafy lanes and against trees
where they used to lean,
the summer evening vents scents
that fill the air with mystic perfume
to enthral the senses of anyone
who may pass there.
A cooling breeze follows
the shroud of midnight
as it gently touches everything
and the lives of present lovers
lay hidden and unseen
until the moon peeks
from behind the cloud
and brightens things a little
around the midnight shroud.
16 February 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There are pockets of great food in Spain, but there are also pockets of very mediocre food in Spain, and the same in Morocco and the same in Croatia and the same in Germany and the same in Austria.
quote by Mario Batali
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Morning Mist
In the shroud of morning mist
that herald a new day
dark monsters scurry back and forth,
as they hurry on their way.
Their roars are swallowed up
as silence consumes all
in the shroud of the morning mist
that heralds a new day.
29 September 2010
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Christmas Rock
My billfold doesn't have a prayer
There's Christmas catalogs everywhere
She keeps looking at the jewelry section
Cutting pictures out of her selections
I said we need to hold it down this year
And in her eye she got a big ol' tear
She wants a Christmas rock
But Santa's pockets ain't got no roll
She don't want pots and pans
Just something shinin' on her hand
With an emerald or a diamond on it
I had a budget but she's gone and blown it
Down to the jewelry store, here I go
Hear the clerk say, ho, ho, ho
She wants a Christmas rock
But Santa's pockets ain't got no roll
She don't want anything from sears
No tools or garden shears
There's something special on her mind
And I can't even afford the shine
I wish she'd settled for a long nightshirt
No, I've got to give till it hurts
She wants a Christmas rock
But Santa's pockets ain't got no roll
She don't want pots and pans
Just something shinin' on her hand
With an emerald or a diamond on it
I had a budget but she's gone and blown it
Down to the jewelry store, here I go
Hear the clerk say, ho, ho, ho
She wants a Christmas rock
But Santa's pockets ain't got no roll
She wants a Christmas rock
But ol' Santa's pockets ain't got no roll
song performed by by Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Before A Gripping Hand Can Affix To It
I was told as a child,
That money did not grow on trees.
And as soon as I accepted the concept,
Of earning it...
I don't have it in my pockets long enough,
To get familiar with its presence.
If someone was to attempt to pick my pockets,
I am sure they would ask for tips...
As to how I have managed to survive,
On a fixed income...
That comes to go before I am aware of it.
And I appear as if i am the 'king' of abundance.
It's like this...
If something comes to go,
Before a gripping hand can affix to it to identify...
It becomes like a memory embellished.
And as time moves on to go by,
That which is embellished becomes one's reality.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Hear Voices
I feel the pressure
Pushing down on me
Cant face the world
Cant change the things I see
I got my hands in my pockets
Staring at the walls
Can nobody help me
To escape from it all
I hear voices in my head
They taunt me
Cant lock them out
Inside my thoughts
They breathe in me
I got my hands in my pockets
Screaming at the walls
Can nobody help me
To escape from it all
Ive got to run to be free
Break the chains round my heart
Take away the pain and the joy
Release the man from the boy
Run to be free, run from the heart
Life will take you where it goes
You can offer me salvation
Feed me when I call
Dont talk to me of sanity
When Im not quite here at all
Ive touched the sun
I felt its warmth in me
So you will never take away my dignity
Cause Ive got my hands in my pockets
Fighting for my cause
Can nobody help me
To escape from it all
Run to be free
Break the chains round my heart
Life will take you where it goes
Run to be free
Run from the heart
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Money is always there but the pockets change; it is not in the same pockets after a change, and that is all there is to say about money.
quote by Gertrude Stein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sell Me A Coat
La la la la la la la la la la la la la
A winters day, a bitter snowflake on my face
My summer girl takes little backward steps away
Jack frost took her hand and left me, jack frost aint so cool
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
And when she smiles, the ice forgets to melt away
Not like before, her smile was warming yesterday
See the trees like silver candy, feel my icy hand
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
See my eyes, my window pane
See my tears like gentle rain
Thats the memory of a summer day
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
Sell me a coat with buttons of silver
Sell me a coat thats red or gold
Sell me a coat with little patch pockets
Sell me a coat cause I feel cold
La la la la la la
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If It Was About A Lot Of Money
If it was about a lot of money...
My mind would be,
Trimmed in dollar bills.
With-my-thoughts-on a million of them,
And a caring less of my fellowman.
And if it was about a lot of money...
I'd ignore,
Every two cents made.
By anybody wanting to deliver to me,
Any consciousness attached to common sense.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money...
I wouldn't be concerned about the suffering seen.
And if it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
And if it was about a lot of money...
My eyes wouldn't cry when I see these scenes.
If it was about a lot of money...
My mind would be,
Trimmed in dollar bills.
With-my-thoughts-on a million of them,
And a caring less of my fellowman.
If it was about a lot of money...
I'd ignore,
Every two cents made.
By anybody wanting to deliver to me,
Any consciousness to instigate.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money...
I wouldn't be concerned about the suffering seen.
I'd fill my pockets and get away!
If it was about a lot of money.
I'd fill my pockets each and everyday.
If it was about a lot of money.
I'd fill my pockets and get away!
If it was about a lot of money.
I'd fill my pockets up and run the other way.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
And if it was about a lot of money...
There wouldn't be a single word I would say.
I wouldn't have concerns or feel this way.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Myself Sometimes
myself like the wind
i just blow blow
with nowhere to go
i sprial down
to come back up just to drown
drown in my darkness
put up the shroud
hide behind my cloud
just hide
then come out for a chide
hide again it never ends
o the agony o wait its called
reality
life this is no deal
nothing like the days of fuedum or fief
these are dangerous days
in which u must live in dangerous ways
shroud or not look over your shoulder
always
poem by David Knox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life And How To Live It
Burn bright through the night two pockets lead the way
Two doors to go between the wall was raised today
Two doors remain before your others and your own
Keep these books well stocked away and take your happy home
My carpenter's out and running about talking to the street
My pockets are out and running about
Barking in the street to tell what I have hidden there
Burn bright through the night, two pockets lead the way
Two doors to go between the wall was raised today
Raise the walls and shout its flaws, a carpenter should rest
So that when you tire of one side the other serves you best
My carpenter's out and running about, talking to the street
My pockets are out and running about
Barking in the street to tell what I have hidden there
The hills ringing hear the words in time
Listen to the holler, listen to my walls within my tongue
Can't you see you made my ears go tin?
the air quicken tension building inference suddenly
Life and how to live it
Raise the walls and shout its flaws, a carpenter should rest
So that when you tire of one side the other serves you best
Read about the wisdom lost, a knock, a knock, a knock
A secret knock one hammer's locked the other wisdom lost
My carpenter's out and running about, talking to the street
My pockets are out and running about
Barking in the street to tell what I have hidden there
My carpenter's out and running about, barking in the, listen to the holler
My pockets are out and running about
Barking in the street to tell what I have hidden there
Listen, listen to the holler,
If I write a book it will be called "Life and How to Live It
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Give Me That Loot
Give me that loot that you get.
The kind that fills up pockets.
The kind that makes one rich...
And can pay for all my habits.
And...
Give me that loot that you get.
The kind that fills up pockets.
The kind that makes one rich...
And can pay for all my habits.
These times I forsake steak.
And potatoes made to taste.
With gravy and glazed onions I would love.
These times I forsake cake...
Yellow, pound or chocolate made.
But I dream of having brownies...
With some lemonaide.
Give me that loot that you get.
The kind that fills up pockets.
The kind that makes one rich...
And can pay for all my habits.
Give me that loot that you get.
The kind that fills up pockets.
The kind that makes one rich...
And can pay for all my habits.
I've tightened up my loosened belt...
Not to miss a single loop.
I think of having juice or cool-aid...
But a bowl of noodle soup will do!
These times I forsake steak.
And potatoes made to taste.
With gravy and glazed onions I would love.
These times I forsake cake...
Yellow, pound or chocolate made.
But I dream of having brownies...
With some lemonaide would just be great!
Give me that.
Give me that.
Give me that.
Give me that.
Give me that loot that you get.
The kind that fills up pockets.
The kind that makes one rich...
And can pay for all my habits.
Give me that loot that you get.
The kind that fills up pockets.
The kind that makes one rich...
And can pay for all my habits.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Finding Loves Fool
Finding loves fool
loves fool you may be
but I stand in front of thee
a light covered in the shroud of lies
Where sorrow will not die
In the shroud of lies
will I be
So there look for me
If the lies should make you sorrow
Do not cry in fear of tomorrow
For I will find thee before
That marrow
And at that time
There will be no sorrow
Should your eyes still cry
then I will find you in the
in the shroud of lies
Twice as fast as
You cry
Will I fly to your side
may I wipe away the tears
Of pain and sorrow
and your fears
For now and tomorrow
Then from your tears will I form
A drink of love
And sorrow torn
then may I show you the light
Of tomorrow
Along with it the army of sorrow
And then in fight
I shall give you no sorrow
For none shall pass me
But die in the birth of tomorrow
If in case should I die
Then sprout your wings
And fly
Beyond the sight of this marrow
Then rise above
The next army of sorrow
Find me now
Without sorrow
Find me now in
Heavens tomorrow
Then see the light oh fool of love
See the light of heaven above
Then there will be no shroud of lies
And together are wings shall fly
over mountains and beyond the sea
to a place were we can both be
Without the pain and sorrow
But at the birth
Of a new tomorrow
A tomorrow were a new earth brings
The life of another
Child with wings
With these wing he shall soar
And for loves fool
The search
Begins once more
poem by Cody Byrne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life & How To Live It
Burn bright through the night, two pockets lead the way
To doors to go between the wall was raised today
To doors remain before your others and your own
Keep these books well stocked away and take your happy home
My carpenters out and running about, talking to the street
My pockets are out and running about
Barking in the street to tell what I have hidden there
Burn bright through the night, two pockets lead the way
Two doors to go between the wall was raised today
Raise the walls and shout its flaws, a carpenter should rest
So that when you tire of one side the other serves you best
My carpenters out and running about, talking to the street
My pockets are out and running about
Barking in the street to tell what I have hidden there
The hills ringing hear the words in time
Listen to the holler, listen to my walls within my tongue
Cant you see you made my ears go tin?
The air quicken tension building inference suddenly
Life and how to live it
Raise the walls and shout its flaws, a carpenter should rest
So that when you tire of one side the other serves you best
Read about the wisdom lost, a knock, a knock, a knock
A secret knock one hammers locked the other wisdom lost
My carpenters out and running about, talking to the street
My pockets are out and running about
Barking in the street to tell what I have hidden there
My carpenters out and running about, barking in the, listen to the holler
My pockets are out and running about
Barking in the street to tell what I have hidden there
Listen, listen to the holler,
If I write a book it will be called life and how to live it
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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