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The Merchandise
To the merchandise of gold,
To the merchandise of silver,
To the merchandise of bronze,
To the merchandise of ivory,
To the merchandise of precious stone,
To the merchandise of brass,
To the merchandise of pearls,
To the merchandise of cars,
To the merchanidse of bauxite,
To the merchandise of fine linen,
To the merchandise of houses,
To the merchandise of wine,
To the merchandise of oil,
To the merchandise of luxuries,
To the merchandise of weapons,
To the merchandise of coffee,
To the merchandise of purple,
To the merchandise of wheat,
To the merchandise of sheep,
To the merchandise of timber,
To the merchandise of cattle,
To the merchandise of iron,
To the merchandise of horses,
To the merchandise of fruits,
To the merchandise of frankincense,
To the merchandise of cocoa,
To the merchandise of scarlet,
To the merchandise of precious wood,
To the merchandise of silk,
To the merchandise of chariots,
To the merchandise of commercial planes,
To the merchandise of slaves,
To the merchandise of private jets,
To the merchandise of marbles,
To the merchandise of war planes,
To the merchandise of scented wood,
To the merchandise of fine flour,
To the merchandise of incense,
To the merchandise of cinnamon,
And to the merchandise of fragrant ointment;
But the day comes when we will all cry.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Today's Merchandise
Slumbering to the dawning darkness,
Tonight’s night mare, anchoring in predators
Who will feast on our poor souls
Because they traded their own
in today’s merchandise.
I will not slumber, to dream again.
In my bed, I will stay awake.
I will not trade, to have it all
In my solitude, I will reside
To be saved from today’s merchandise
Dropping values, picking passions
The kind of trade;
Cheap sex, traded morals
The day’s merchandise;
But I will not trade in today’s merchandise.
Men shed tears and reap fears
in today’s merchandise.
The profit we earn
is a troubled conscience
Making it unworthy, in today’s merchandise
poem by Timothy muggaga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Toi
Give the shields of gold to Toi,
The King of Hamath;
Like the Arameans of Damascus.
But the bride of bondage is like,
The merchandise of cinnamon.
It is all around us,
Of the merchandise of wine;
It is all around you,
Of the merchandise of frankincense;
It is all around me,
Of the merchandise of oil;
But the merchandise of fine flour is like,
The merchandise of wheat.
The merchandise of flowers for my lover,
The merchandise of cattle for my family,
The merchandise of sheep for my neighbour,
The merchandise of horses for my friends,
With the merchandise of chariots and slaves to remember!
Give the shields of gold to Toi,
The king of Hamath;
Like the merchandise of arms and,
The merchandise of luxuries.
Give the shields of gold to Toi,
The King of Hamath;
For weeping and wailing will be heard very soon.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sea Captain
The merchandise of gold in the land of gold,
The merchandise of silver in the land of silver,
The merchandise of bronze in the land of bronze,
The merchandise of precious stones in the land of stones,
The merchandise of fine linen in the land of thread,
The merchandise of pearls in the land of pearls,
The merchandise of silk in the land of wool,
The merchandise of scarlet in the land of clothes,
The merchandise of ivory in the land of elephants,
The merchandise of scented wood in the land of timber,
The merchandise of brass in the land of metals,
The merchandise of precious wood in the land of trees,
The merchandise of wool in the land of sheep,
And the merchandise of marble in the land of marbles;
For this is the message to the sea captain.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don’t be cheap
Buy not a thing because it’s cheap.
Don’t let others make you cheap.
To be greedy is to be cheap.
To be selfish is to be cheap.
To poke your nose is a cheap thing.
Don’t be cheap; better be poor.
23.08.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Junk is the ultimate merchandise. The junk merchant does not sell his product to the consumer, he sells the consumer to the product. He does not improve and simplify his merchandise, he degrades and simplifies the client.
quote by William Seward Burroughs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Junk is the ultimate merchandise. The junk merchant does not sell his product to the consumer, he sells the consumer to the product. He does not improve and simplify his merchandise, he degrades and simplifies the client.
quote by William S. Burroughs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Over Use
A quote goes cheap if over used.
A queen goes cheap if over seen.
A guest goes cheap if overstayed.
Otherwise also they’ll expire stale
(26.06.2011)
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In My Dreams Song
In my dreams
You will swimm
L'océan
That God made
Many years ago
In my dreams
L'océan
Will always be there
For the ships to come
From a long distance
To deliver food and merchandise
To the stores
So that the owners of the stores
Can sell their food and merchandise
To the consumer
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He Asked about the Quality
He left the office where he'd been given
a trivial, poorly paid job
(something like eight pounds a month, including bonuses)
left at the end of the dreary work
that kept him bent all afternoon,
came out at seven and walked off slowly,
idling his way down the street. Good-looking,
and interesting: showing as he did that he'd reached
his full sensual capacity.
He'd turned twenty-nine the month before.
He idled his way down the main street
and the poor side-streets that led to his home.
Passing in front of a small shop that sold
cheap and flimsy merchandise for workers,
he saw a face inside, a figure
that compelled him to go in, and he pretended
he wanted to look at some coloured handkerchiefs.
He asked about the quality of the handkerchiefs
and how much they cost, his voice choking,
almost silenced by desire.
And the answers came back in the same mood,
distracted, the voice hushed,
offering hidden consent.
They kept on talking about the merchandise
but the only purpose: that their hands might touch
over the handkerchiefs, that their faces, their lips,
might move close together as though by chance
a moment's meeting of limb against limb.
Quickly, secretly, so the shop owner sitting at the back
wouldn't realize what was going on.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Cheap An Nasty
(coverdale/vandenberg)
Come on baby...
I get so confused,
But, my heart knows youre one of a kind
Leather an lace, an angels face,
Riding on a one track mind
Youre fully loaded with cruise control,
My four wheels rock with your back seat roll
Youre cheap an nasty,
All you wanna do is give it up, give it up
Cheap an nasty,
Come on an do the dirty with me
I get so excited, babe, when Im invited
To ride in your limousine,
You drive it every day, burn it every night,
I wonder how you keep it so clean
Smooth accelerator, you get me so loose,
You keep your motor running till I run out of juice
Youre cheap an nasty,
All you wanna do is give it up, give it up
Cheap an nasty,
Come on an do the dirty with me
Cheap an nasty
I never knew it could be this way
An I never thought Id ever complain,
But, gimme a second just to catch my breath
Babe, before you do it again
All the boys call your name
Down the wishing well,
Baby, when you go
Youre like a cat out of hell
Youre cheap an nasty,
All you wanna do is give it up, give it up
Cheap an nasty,
All you wanna do is give it up, give it up
Cheap an nasty,
All you wanna do is give it up, give it up
Cheap an nasty,
Come on an do the dirty with me
Come on an do the dirty,
Come on an do the dirty,
Come on an do the dirty with me
Come on an do the dirty with me...
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Guido Invites You Thus
‘Lappo I leave behind and Dante too,
Lo, I would sail the seas with thee alone!
Talk me no love talk, no bought-cheap fiddl’ry,
Mine is the ship and thine the merchandise,
All the blind earth knows not th'emprise
Whereto thou calledst and whereto I call.
Lo, I have seen thee bound about with dreams,
Lo, I have known thy heart and its desire;
Life, all of it, my sea, and all men's streams
Are fused in it as flames of an altar fire !
Lo, thou hast voyaged not! The ship is mine.'
poem by Ezra Pound
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The Bargain Store
My life is like unto a bargain store
And I may have just what youre lookin for
If you dont mind the fact that all the merchandise is used
But with a little mending it could be as good as new
Why you take for instance this old broken heart
If you will just replace the missing parts
You would be surprised to find how good it really is
Take it and you never will be sorry that you did
The bargain store is open come inside
You can easily afford the price
Love is all you need to purchase all the merchandise
And I will guarantee youll be completely satisfied
Take these old used memories from the past
And these broken dreams and plans that didnt last
Ill trade them for a future, I cant use them anymore
Ive wasted love but I still have some more
The bargain store is open come inside
You can easily afford the price
Love is all you need to purchase all the merchandise
And I can guarantee youll be completely satisfied
My life is like unto a bargain store
And I may have just what youre lookin for
If you dont mind the fact that all the merchandise is used
With a little mendin it could be as good as new
The bargain store is open, come inside
The bargain store is open, come inside
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The House-Wives
We all men and women,
Professionals,
Living in the world of business,
Are the marketers:
Purchasers or sellers,
Merchandise our skills, or labour,
Or merchandise the items of body,
Honour, respect and nobility.
Some sell blood,
Some kids and kidneys,
Against the a few coins of silver or gold,
Or notes of paper;
And no one offers anything free of cost,
Except the house-wives,
Who toil with loyalty and fidelity,
Surrendering their entire entities,
Against the wages of words,
Spoken though in pretentious love
By the tongues dipped in hypocrisy
And though only once in life.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Talk Is Cheap
(Van Morrison)
Kicked your gift-horse in the teeth
Crowd gathered round in the street
You killed your saviour new one can't be found
Talk is cheap your saviour's highway bound
You read the tabloids every day
They're giving lots of things away
They went to build you up
So they can bring you down
Talk is cheap it's gonna
Could make them a million pounds
Now baby don't put your business on the telephone
Tell your girlfriend just to leave me alone
Tell her to watch her mouth before she talks to anybody anybody
Oh 'cos talk is cheap it comes with the territory
Sometimes it's back-to-front sometimes it's upside down
Put your money where your mouth is when you come around
Backbiters and syndicators walking from chinatown
Oh talk is cheap why don't you lay your money down
Well they say you can't shut up a god damn fool
Ain't no exception to the rule
It's blah, blah, blah, blah
Just like a nursery rhyme
Talk is cheap almost all the time
Alright
Yes, talk is cheap
Almost all the time
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Merchandise
MERCHANDISE! Merchandise! Tortoiseshell, spices,
Carpets and Indigo sent o’er the highseas;
Mothero’Pearl from the Solomon Isles
Brought by a brigantine ten thousand miles.
Rubber from Zanzibar, tea from NangPo,
Copra from Haiti, and wine from Bordeaux;
Ships, with topgallants and royals unfurled,
Are bringing in freights from the ends of the world
Crazy old windjammers, manned by Malays,
With ratridden bulkheads and creaking old stays,
Reeking of bilge and of paint and of pitch
That’s how these oceangirt islands grew rich:
And tramps, heavy laden, and liners untold
Will lease a new life to a nation grown old.
Merchandise! Merchandise! England was made
By her Men and her Ships and her OVERSEAS TRADE.
Widen your harbours, your docks and your quays,
Hazard your wares on the seven wide seas,
Run out your railways and hew out your coal,
For only by trade can a country keep whole.
Feed up your furnaces, fashion your steel,
Stick to your bargains and pay on the deal;
Rich is your birthright, and well you’ll be paid.
If you keep in good faith with your Overseas Trade.
Learn up geography, work out your sums,
Build up your commerce, and pull down your slums;
Sail on a Plimsoll that marks a full hold:
Your Overseas Trade means a harvest of gold.
Bring in the palmoil and pepper you’ve bought,
But send out ten times the amount you import:
Trade your inventions, your labour and sweat:
Your Overseas Traffic will keep ye from debt.
Hark to the song of the shuttle and loom,
Keep up your commerce or crawl to your tomb
Study new methods and open new lines,
Quicken your factories, foundries and mines,
Think of what Drake did, and Raleigh and Howe
And waste not their labours by slacking it now:
Work is life’s currency earn what you’re worth,
And send out your ships to the ends of the earth.
Deepbosomed mothers with widefashioned hips
Will bear ye good sons for the building of ships
Good sons for your ships and good ships for your trade
That’s how the Peace of the World will be made!
So send out your strong to the forests untrod,
Work for yourselves and your neighbours and
Keep this good England the home of the free,
With Merchandise, Men and good Ships on the
Merchandise! Merchandise! Good honest Merchandise!
Merchandise, Men and Good Ships on the Sea.
------------------------- ------------------------------------------------- ------
poem by John Milton Hayes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap
If youre havin trouble with your high school head
Hes givin you the blues
You wanna graduate but not in is bed [...but not in his debt]
Heres what you gotta do -
Pick up the phone
Im always home
Call me any time
Just ring
36 24 36 hey [36 24 36 8]
I lead a life of crime
Dirty deeds done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds and theyre done dirt cheap
You got problems in your life of love
You got a broken heart
(shes) hes double dealin with your best friend
Thats when the teardrops start - fella
Pick up the phone
Im here alone
Or make a social call
Come right in
Forget about him
Well have ourselves a ball
Dirty deeds done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds and theyre done dirt cheap
If you got a lady and you want her gone
But you aint got the guts
She keeps naggin at you night and day
Enough to drive you nuts -
Pick up the phone
Leave her alone
Its time you made a stand
For a fee
Im happy to be
Your back door man
Dirty deeds done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds and theyre done dirt cheap
Concrete shoes, cyanide, tnt
Done dirt cheap
Neckties, contracts, high voltage
Done dirt cheap
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shouting' For A Camel
It was over at Coolgardie that a mining speculator,
Who was going down the township just to make a bit o' chink,
Went off to hire a camel from a camel propagator,
And the Afghan said he'd lend it if he'd stand the beast a drink.
Yes, the only price he asked him was to stand the beast a drink.
He was cheap, very cheap, as the dromedaries go.
So the mining speculator made the bargain, proudly thinking
He had bested old Mahomet, he had done him in the eye.
Then he clambered on the camel, and the while the beast was drinking
He explained with satisfaction to the miners standing by
That 'twas cheap, very cheap, as the dromedaries go.
But the camel kept on drinking and he filled his hold with water,
And the more he had inside him yet the more he seemed to need;
For he drank it by the gallon, and his girths grew taut and tauter,
And the miners muttered softly, 'Yes he's very dry indeed!
But he's cheap, very cheap, as dromedaries go.'
So he drank up twenty buckets, it was weird to watch him suck it,
(And the market price for water was per bucket half-a-crown)
Till the speculator stopped him, saying, 'Not another busket,
If I give him any more there'll be a famine in the town.
Take him back to old Mahomet, and I'll tramp it through the town.'
He was cheap, very cheap, as the speculators go.
There's a moral to this story, in your hat you ought to paste it,
Be careful whom you shout for when a camel is about,
And there's plenty human camels who, before they'll see you waste it,
Will drink up all you pay for if you're fool enough to shout;
If you chance to strike a camel when you're fool enough to shout,
You'll be cheap, very cheap, as the speculators go.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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“Shouting” for a Camel
It was over at Coolgardie that a mining speculator,
Who was going down the township just to make a bit o' chink,
Went off to hire a camel from a camel propagator,
And the Afghan said he'd lend it if he'd stand the beast a drink.
Yes, the only price he asked him was to stand the beast a drink.
He was cheap, very cheap, as the dromedaries go.
So the mining speculator made the bargain, proudly thinking
He had bested old Mahomet, he had done him in the eye.
Then he clambered on the camel, and the while the beast was drinking
He explained with satisfaction to the miners standing by
That 'twas cheap, very cheap, as the dromedaries go.
But the camel kept on drinking and he filled his hold with water,
And the more he had inside him yet the more he seemed to need;
For he drank it by the gallon, and his girths grew taut and tauter,
And the miners muttered softly, 'Yes he's very dry indeed!
But he's cheap, very cheap, as dromedaries go.'
So he drank up twenty buckets -- it was weird to watch him suck it,
(And the market price for water was per bucket half-a-crown)
Till the speculator stopped him, saying, 'Not another bucket --
If I give him any more there'll be a famine in the town.
Take him back to old Mahomet, and I'll tramp it through the town.'
He was cheap, very cheap, as the speculators go.
There's a moral to this story -- in your hat you ought to paste it --
Be careful whom you shout for when a camel is about,
And there's plenty human camels who, before they'll see you waste it,
Will drink up all you pay for if you're fool enough to shout;
If you chance to strike a camel when you're fool enough to shout,
You'll be cheap, very cheap, as the speculators go.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cheap To Print
Cheap to print and cheap to download!
But, try to reason up and think;
For, there is always the truth about everything.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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