By filling one's head instead of one's pocket, one cannot be robbed.
Related quotes
Please Tell Me, If You Ever Know...
who robbed us of the days
we laughed with childlike mirth?
who robbed us of the days
when vibrations flowed between us
like milk and curds in their
purest form that little krishna
filled his tummy with?
who robbed us of the days
we danced and sang on unknown
river banks competing against
wind water and amusing little ripples
set in those crystalline waters?
who robbed us of the days
we built any number of castles
by the mighty seas and swayed
to the rhythm of the waves?
who robbed us of
the air that giggled in glee?
who robbed us of
the days of milky moonlight?
who robbed us of
the first showers of monsoon?
who robbed us of
the days of peacok feathers?
who robbed us, dear friend?
can we retieve those days of
spontaneous giggles
unfretterd spirit
uninhibited expression...?
tell me, my friend
if you know the one
one who robbed us of the
very fundemental connection
is he the master-crafter time?
is she a naughty elf?
him or her i wish to meet
no, not to accost
but to see if the booty
really filled his or her heart
and if it did
i wish to leave all of it
for their happiness...
20sep2009
13.20hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Filling Up With Heaven
Once there was a vision
Once there was a glow
Once there was a certainty
No chance could overthrow
Hope was scorched by summer
Crushed and beaten down
Once there was a winner
Now there was a clown
Without you life had seemed so
But now im
Filling up with heaven
Without you life had
Seemed so hostile
Filling up with heaven
But maybe with you its all worthwhile
Now Im filling up with heaven
No baby no baby no baby no
Filling up
No baby no baby baby baby no
Filling up
No baby no baby no baby no
No baby no baby baby baby no
All the fortune that my
Luck had brought
It couldnt even make me smile
Without you life had seemed so
A lonely hideaway my last resort
All achievement infantile
Now im
Filling up with heaven
Without you life had
Seemed so hostile
Filling up with heaven
But maybe with you its all worthwhile
Hey hey hey
As the years had passed by
I became more cynical
All the magic had died
My existence clinical
Ow ow ow ow
But now im
Filling up with heaven
Down down
Down down
Filling up
Without you life had
Seemed so hostile
Down down
Down down
Hey hey hey hey
Filling up with heaven
But maybe with you its all worthwhile
Woah woah woah woah
Now im
Filling up with heaven
Without you life had
Seemed so hostile
Down down
Down down
Filling up filling up
Filling up with heaven
But maybe with you its all worthwhile
Ow ow ow ow ow
Woah woah woah
Now im
Filling up with heaven
Without you life had seemed so
Hostile
Down down
Down down
Filling up with heaven
But maybe with you its all worthwhile
Hey hey hey hey
Without you life had
Seemed so hostile
Down down
Down down
Filling up
But maybe with you its all worthwhile
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alone
He put the gum in his right
lower pocket, where it belonged;
The Certs in this heat melted, staining his right
upper pocket, a crying shame.
The green stone went in his left
upper pocket along with the key to nothing;
the robin's egg nestled in his left
lower pocket but never hatched.
He crisscrossed the flats between
the two rocky spires and, every day,
wished he had a compass
or to find anything that could control
his life's motion.
But he never found that thing,
except for thre head-bones of a cow,
and he could not contrive a place
for them, so he buried them and mourned:
Later on he died alone.
poem by Stan Petrovich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Honey-Do List (This is my attempt at a Sestina)
I wrote a long honey-do list
and handed it to my husband.
With a smile he read it and with a fold
he stuffed it in his pocket.
I'll get to this as soon as I can,
but can't you hear the cry from the dogs.
Who can't hear the cry of the dogs?
Did you not read my list?
If you won't do it I can,
I said to my loving husband
I took the list from his pocket.
And opened it at the fold.
It was closed with a fold,
because I want to hunt my dogs.
Now return it to my pocket.
I will get to the list,
Said my loving husband.
I'll get to it when I can.
I'm doing the best I can,
and he creased it at the fold.
Cried out my loving husband,
you know I love my dogs.
I'll get around to this list
and returned it to his pocket.
With my fingers I tapped the pocket,
maybe you can't but I can,
dropp you from my list.
Grabbing me he did fold
me in his arms like he does his dogs.
I am your loving husband.
I promise you said my loving husband,
with a hand on his heart across his pocket
I love you more than my dogs
I'll get to you when I can
Please return me to your fold
Because you know you head my list
Thirty-two dogs and one husband
added to my list and stuffed in a pocket
Enjoy it while I can and iron out our differences at the fold.
poem by Victoria Dame
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ive Suffered A Head Injury
Vanilla ice man cometh, goeth
Sampling, dealing, music stolen
To pre-pubescent girls appealing
Re-mix record contract sealing
Borrowed lyrics sung with feeling slumping
Record sales are healing
Concert hall promoters kneeling
Keeping grateful deadheads relling
Quite suppressed yet quite revealing
Influence is far from stealing
Ive suffered a head Ive suffered a head injury
Ive suffered a head Ive suffered a head injury
Techno-pop kids, stardoms rockets
Money in their labels pocket
Unrelentless, thoughtless selling
Busting charts, atop theyre dwelling
Lacking substance story telling
Lost the message in this yelling
Robbing fortunes from the willing
Endless posing, mindless chilling
Plastic icing airtime filling
Instigating art-rock killing
(repeat chorus)
song performed by by Verve Pipe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poem In My Pocket!
I have a poem in my pocket for this very day,
a poem in my packet you might even say,
i have a poem in my pocket for all of you to hear,
this is the poem in my pocket,
the one you've just heard me peirs,
so a poem in my pocket is to my heart
but i have to say sorry it's time for us to part!
poem by Raven Fulford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You've Got Her In Your Pocket
You've got her in your pocket
And there's no way out now
Put it in the safe and lock it
'cause it's at home sweet home
Nobody ever told you that it was the wrong way
To trick a woman, make her feel she did it her way
And you'll be there if she ever feels blue
And you'll be there when she FINDS someone new
What to do
Well you know
You keep her in your pocket
Where there's no way out now
Put it in a safe a lock it
'cause it's home sweet home
The smile on your face made her think she had the right one
Then she thought she was sure
By the way you two could have fun
But now she might leave
like she's threatened before
grab hold of her fast
before her feet leave the floor
and she's out the door
Cause you want,
To keep you in my pocket
Where there's no way out now
Put it in a safe a lock it
'cause it's home sweet home
And in your own mind
You know you're lucky just to know her
And in the beginning all you wanted was to show her
But now your scared
You think she's running away
You're searching your head for something clever to say
Dont go away
Cause i want,
To keep you in my pocket
where there's no way out
put it in the safe and lock it
cos' it's home sweet home
Home sweet home
song performed by by White Stripes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Zip-lock
I've been stealing
Time where I can get it from
I've been losing
Grip on what I used to hold
If I could get another chance
I'd put it in a zip-loc bag
And keep it in my pocket
Keep it in my pocket
Keep it in my pocket
Tell me
When I start to blow it would you
Show me
What I need to do before you
Hate me
I could never live with that so
Tell me
Before you're better off without me
Before you're better off without me
I've been watching you
Sleeping with a troubled look
I'm sure your bad dreams
Are probably all about me
And better off without me
If I could get another chance
I'd put it in a ziploc bag
And keep it in my pocket
Keep it in my pocket
Keep it in my pocket
Tell me
When I start to blow it would you
Show me
What I need to do before you
Hate me
I could never live with that so
Tell me
Before you're better off without me
Before you're better off without me
Well I've been losing
Grip on what I used to hold
I don't want you
To be better off without me
If I could get another chance
I'd put it in a ziploc bag
And keep it in my pocket
Keep it in my pocket
Keep it in my pocket
Tell me
When I start to blow it would you
Show me
Tell me
What I need to do before you
Hate me
Tell me
Cuz I could never live with that so
Help me
Before you're better off without me
song performed by by Lit from A Place In The Sun
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Man With The Golden Gun
The man
With the golden gun
Is waiting
Somewhere
Out there
For you
But you'll never see him
He'll be looking for you
Demand
For the golden gun
It's high priced
Precise
And true
But you'll never see him
He'll be looking for you
The man with the golden
Gun in his pocket, Oh, oh
The man with the golden
Gun in his case, Oh, oh
The man with the golden
Gun in your face
But you'll never see him
He'll be looking for you
You better believe
He'll be looking for you
He-e-e-e-e-e's, The man with the golden
Gun in his pocket
The man with the golden
Gun in his case
The man with the golden
Gun in his pocket
The man with the golden
Gun in your face
But you'll never see him
He'll be looking for you
You better believe
He'll be looking for yo-ou
He-e-e-e-e-e's, The man with the golden
Gun in his pocket
The man with the golden
Gun in his case
The man with the golden
Gun in his pocket
The man with the golden
Gun in your face
The man with the go-o-olden
Gun in his pocket
The man with the go-o-lden
Gun in his case
The man who gave you the golden gun
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Without Pocket
Hungry of filling pockets
By doing the acts funny;
Doing scams and scandals
For earning black money.
Lastly will leave here
Even the cash box strongest,
Final cloth will have no colours
As well as have no pocket.
S.D.Tiwari
email [email protected]
poem by S.D. Tiwari
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Treasure Of The Wise Man
O the night was dark and the night was late,
And the robbers came to rob him;
And they picked the locks of his palace-gate,
The robbers that came to rob him--
They picked the locks of his palace-gate,
Seized his jewels and gems of state,
His coffers of gold and his priceless plate,--
The robbers that came to rob him.
But loud laughed he in the morning red!--
For of what had the robbers robbed him?--
Ho! hidden safe, as he slept in bed,
When the robbers came to rob him,--
They robbed him not of a golden shred
Of the childish dreams in his wise old head--
'And they're welcome to all things else,' he said,
When the robbers came to rob him.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Marketable Property
A piece of the rock?
Today?
It is advisable,
That one wishes a complete boulder!
By the time any remnant of it appears...
Even if a pebble,
To place in one's pocket...
To feel,
Momentarily...
Is enough to know,
One has a hold onto something
One can value.
With the hope that the act of it,
Isn't found taxable by those assessing...
Personal possessions one has to be declared,
Marketable property!
'Either they pay...
Or we confiscate it!
And check the other pocket as well.
Leave not a pocket unturned!
Since we've run out of stones.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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These Knives
Why walk around with a knife in your pocket?
Are you afraid of yourself? !
Or, do you want to kill somebody around you?
It is a shame that you have a knife in your pocket,
But stop this act of negativity and live and let us live;
Like the satus-quo of Romeo and Juliet.
You claim to go to church but,
There is a knife in your pocket!
Infact, this act will not take you to heaven.
So, do learn for the better than stabbing somebody with these knives.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Safety is peace
Acquire skill. Acquire knowledge.
You are not robbed.
Acquire wealth. Acquire power.
You are robbed.
Peace comes where safety rules.
18.11.2001, Pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Interim Pleasure
The usurped things would be usurped
And the robbed things would be robbed, people say
The statement might intend to give solace
But in between, the holder enjoyed it
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Explorations: XXI
Carefully
Tastefully
Measured in
Single syllables
Widening craters
In relationships
Can't conceal
The monotony within
That throws the balance
Of the relationships
To one side...
You gather the beginnings
Hidden in your secret pocket
To make the balance even-
A vain attempt like
Filling a basket with water;
Tying up smoke into a bundle!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Money In My Pocket
Money in my pocket but I just can't get no love
Money in my pocket but I just can't get no love
I'm praying for
A girl to be my own
Soon you said she coming but I don't believe a word she say
Cause she run away and left me one rainy day
She made me had in mind
That her love would never die
And now I'm alone, so alone
So alone, yeah, yeah
Money in my pocket but I just can't get no love
Money in my pocket but I just can't get no love
The love I had in mind
Was very, very hard to find
It's hard for a man to live without a woman
And a woman needs a man to cling to
You'll see what love can do
After making me feel blue
Ain't that a shame, whoa baby
Ain't that a shame
To make me feel blue
Ive got money in my pocket
song performed by by Simply Red
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The brain is not in the pocket, but in the head.
Abstaining is favorable both to the head and the pocket.
quote by W.C. Fields
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Liberty Sought For All
Words keep filling my brain.
I rarely write them down.
Because as soon as I empty my head.
Words start filling my brain again.
I can never empty my head.
For there remains too much unsaid.
Poignant thoughts, enlightened ideas, ideals.
Waiting for a poet to bring them to heal.
Words. Words. Words. Words. Words.
Whirling Whirling Whirling Whirling Words.
Waiting for a chosen moment, of precise creativity.
Waiting for a special moment, of ordained existence.
Waiting to transform
a corrupt materialistic world.
Waiting to put compassion
back into heartless hearts.
Waiting to restore love
vitality freedom and nobility.
Waiting to herald a new age
of heaven sent realized liberty.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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