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All I Need From You Is That You Clean Me, Mama
you lay a mat on the floor
for you to understand dirt and its implications its complications
to the wall
or to the center table and to the rest of the parts of your house,
dirt must be eradicated, that is your rule number one,
so you put lots of mats and rugs, doormats, floormats,
in every door in every corner of the floor
all dirts are not welcome,
it is as though you have studied dirt at length for years,
what is dirt? what are the kinds of dirt? the causes of dirt?
the consequences of dirt? the historical background of dirt,
and your recommendations finally about
dirt
its control and eradication,
you have talked about dirt and how you disliked it,
how you have driven dirt away from this house
how you called they police when dirt resisted to leave
and of course they all were arrested and jailed
without bond
the judge convicted dirt on the basis of those dirty exhibits
and dirty testimonial evidence,
dirt must be poisoned by lethal injection, hanged, electrocuted,
to make them disappear forever
that is your firm belief
your solid conviction
the sound philosophy of
your society
you are talking to me, and i will now tell you who am i really,
my name, the place where i live, my family and how i am related to you,
mother, i am dirt, my name is dirty, my family is dirty,
i live in a dirty place, i am your son,
i cannot step on your doormat, immediately i must leave now
you will report me to the police and i will be arrested
and jailed and even be hanged dead,
all i need is only that you clean me, mama.
now, please........
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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His Red Dirt Life
So many red dirt roads he’s traveled
Along his long red dirt life
Children born and raised with
His charming red dirt wife
A home was built and furnished
Upon his red dirt land
He’s done the very best he could
Always taking a red dirt stand
Red dirt roads that lead up to
A bridge to the other side
He tries to go right with the flow
Along life’s red dirt ride
And during that ride it seems
There are some pot holes in the road
But he just keep pluggin’ along you see
Just carrying his red dirt load
The streams and valleys continue
Until the end of his red dirt time
And when the sun beats down on him
He loves to see that red dirt shine!
poem by Marilyn Lott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song, Poverty Parts Good Company
WHEN my o'erlay was white as the foam o' the lin,
And siller was chinkin my pouches within,
When my lambkins were bleatin on meadow an brae,
As I went to my love in new cleeding sae gay,
Kind was she, and my friends were free,
But poverty parts good company.
How swift passed the minutes and hours of delight,
When piper played cheerly, and crusie burned bright,
And linked in my hand was the maiden sae dear,
As she footed the floor in her holy-day gear!
Woe is me; and can it then be,
That poverty parts sic company?
We met at the fair, and we met at the kirk,
We met i' the sunshine, we met i' the mirk;
And the sound o'her voice, and the blinks o'her een,
The cheerin and life of my bosom hae been.
Leaves frae the tree, at Mertimass flee,
And poverty parts sweet company.
At bridal and infare, I braced me wi' pride,
The bruise I hae won, and a kiss o' the bride;
And loud was the laughter good fellows among,
As I uttered my banter or chorused my song;
Dowie and dree are jestin and glee,
When poverty spoils good company.
Wherever I gaed kindly lasses looked sweet,
And mithers and aunties were unco discreet;
While kebbuck and beeker were set on the board;
But now they pass by me, and never a word!
Sae let it be, for the worldly and slee
Wi' poverty keep nae company.
But the hope of my love is a cure for its smart,
And the spae-wife has tauld me to keep up my heart,
For, wi' my last saxpence, her loof I hae crost,
And the bliss that is fated can never be lost.
Though cruelly we may ilka day see
How poverty parts dear company.
poem by Joanna Baillie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dirt Bike
Here comes the dirt bike
Beware of the dirt bike
Because I hear theyre coming to our town
Theyve got plans for everyone
And now I hear theyre over their sophomore jinx, so you had better check it out
All hail the dirt bike
Philosopher dirt bike
Silence as we gathered round
We saw the word and were on our way
Now its
Brain washing dirt bike
Ground shaking dirt bike
Mind bending dirt bike
In control
Soul crushing dirt bike
Self propelled dirt bike
You see I never thought Id understand
til that bike took me by the hand
Now I ride
Ride
Ride
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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the Self
the self is a mountain
you can go exploring
some parts are not reachable
and some parts so riveting
you just wish to sing them songs
some parts are caves you can shout
and hear your own echoes
some parts are a make belief
haunted house you can frighten yourself with
some parts are chambers of
mysteries you can get lost on your own
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Braid Claith
Ye wha are fain to hae your name
Wrote in the bonny book of fame,
Let merit nae pretension claim
To laurel'd wreath,
But hap ye weel, baith back and wame,
In gude Braid Claith.
He that some ells o' this may fa,
An' slae-black hat on pow like snaw,
Bids bauld to bear the gree awa',
Wi' a' this graith,
Whan bienly clad wi' shell fu' braw
O' gude Braid Claith.
Waesuck for him wha has na fek o't!
For he's a gowk they're sure to geck at,
A chiel that ne'er will be respekit
While he draws breath,
Till his four quarters are bedeckit
Wi' gude Braid Claith.
On Sabbath-days the barber spark,
When he has done wi' scrapin wark,
Wi' siller broachie in his sark,
Gangs trigly, faith!
Or to the meadow, or the park,
In gude Braid Claith.
Weel might ye trow, to see them there,
That they to shave your haffits bare,
Or curl an' sleek a pickly hair,
Wou'd be right laith,
Whan pacing wi' a gawsy air
In gude Braid Claith.
If only mettl'd stirrah green
For favour frae a lady's ein,
He maunna care for being seen
Before he sheath
His body in a scabbard clean
O' gude Braid Claith.
For, gin he come wi' coat threadbare,
A feg for him she winna care,
But crook her bonny mou' fu' sair,
And scald him baith.
Wooers shou'd ay their travel spare
Without Braid Claith.
Braid Claith lends fock an unco heese,
Makes mony kail-worms butterflies,
Gies mony a doctor his degrees
For little skaith:
In short, you may be what you please
Wi' gude Braid Claith.
For thof ye had as wise a snout on
As Shakespeare or Sir Isaac Newton,
Your judgment fouk wou'd hae a doubt on,
I'll tak my aith,
Till they cou'd see ye wi' a suit on
O' gude Braid Claith.
poem by Robert Fergusson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dog Dirt
Dog dirt, you don’t wanna step on it,
Dog dirt, you don’t wanna slip on it,
Dog dirt, you need to watch your step,
Dog dirt; check yourself for any specks.
Now when I say dog dirt I mean my thoughts,
I’m using it as a metaphor incase I get caught,
Now I love her but I can’t tell her,
Because if she ever found out I’ll be feeling under the weather,
Together forever, probably never I think,
But all I do is think I just keep my mouth shut,
My thoughts are dog dirt,
Don’t touch or stumble on them or I’ll get hurt.
Dog dirt, you don’t wanna step on it,
Dog dirt, you don’t wanna slip on it,
Dog dirt, you need to watch your step,
Dog dirt; check yourself for any specks.
I hope that’s not crap on your shoe,
Because I accidentally wrote in that text I love you,
You replied I love you too if only it was true,
I’m a fool for ever falling for you,
I’m a fool defiantly if you ever step in my do, do,
I’ll zip my mouth closed so nothing blurts out,
I’ll rip my vocal cords out so that I can’t shout,
I’m a dreamer, but not a believer, trust me.
poem by Gaz illionaire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poverty parts good company, and is an enemy to vertue.
Bad Company
Company, always on the run
Destiny is the rising sun
I was born six gun in my hand
Behind the gun I make my final stand
That's why they call me
Bad company, I can't deny
Bad, bad company
'Til the day I die
Rebel soul, deserters we are called
Chose a gun and threw away the sword
Now these towns, they all know our names
Six gun sound is our claim to fame
I can hear 'em say
Bad company, and I won't deny
Bad, bad company
'Til the day I die
song performed by by Bad Company
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Country Red Dirt Road
Down that red dirt road
Off to the side I see
Cattle gracing in herds
Staring sweetly at me
Yes, the red dirt takes us
Past old farmyard barns
Farmers standing ‘round
Spinning red dirt yarns
Daisies waving by the side
Of the red dirt road so fresh
Brilliant colors perfectly
Blend in with all the rest
More cows by the fence
Watch as I go by
Driving a red dirt road
Sure does make time fly!
poem by Marilyn Lott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Red Dirt Forever!
Nothing is quite as relaxing
As having a red dirt day
The color gleaming brightly
As I go along my way
A pond surrounded by red dirt
Creates a smile upon my face
I never can remember
A more peaceful kind of place
An old barn in the sunshine
Surrounded by deep red dirt
Happy families lived for years
Yes, tribulations came in spurts
As I look across the fields
I’m so proud of what I see
All this brilliant red dirt land
Still smiles happily on me
For you see, nothing matters
Except this world that I treasure
And I truly will be happy on
My Red Dirt Forever!
poem by Marilyn Lott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Country Is Like A Body
When one part sick
All parts look unhealthy
When one part missing
All parts get the impact
When one part is weak
Do other parts only blame and not help to fix it?
When one part is failed
Do other parts only let it fall and not support it?
Even it is often forgotten
It doesn't mean it is not important
Even it is always underestimated
It doesn't mean it could completely be ignored
One part may be incapable
But it doesn't mean all parts can do nothing
One part may be invalid
But it doesn't mean all parts should also give up the spirit
In some incredible moment they are working together
In some unseen place they don't stop to struggle
It may be hard but always raises up the hope
It may be small change but always look forward
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shareholder activism is not a privilege - it is a right and a responsibility. When we invest in a company, we own part of that company and we are partly responsible for how that company progresses. If we believe there is something going wrong with the company, then we, as shareholders, must become active and vocal.
quote by Mark Mobius
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Red Dirt World
Did you ever see a red dirt road
With a red dirt pond ‘long side?
Brilliant yellow sunflowers
In the grass where burrs might hide?
Oil wells thriving endlessly
White gobs from a cotton patch
Bolls in the patch ready to burst
Sweet blooms like a bird that hatched
All my red dirt rides in the country
Are laced with these wondrous things
They sum up the life I’ve lived so far
Kinda tug at my worn heart strings
Ah yes, such red dirt memories
As I wonder through life’s plan
But I do my best along the way
For I’m just a red dirt man!
poem by Marilyn Lott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Red Dirt Life
I went for a ride the other day
Sun shown bright as could be
Shining right on the red dirt road
There is nothing more cheerful to me
Past the red dirt farmhouses
Down the valley so red
A smile was on my face
For I knew what was ahead
The green trees stood out starkly
With the wonderful red color
Huge red rock and plateau’s
Nothing like any other
It was a ride that I take often
For I have a great red dirt time
Perhaps you too would enjoy
A red dirt life like mine!
poem by Marilyn Lott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I don't come in parts
I DON'T cOME IN PARTS
I
Can't
Give
You
Ha lf
Of
Me.
Because
I
Don't
CoM e
In
Parts! ! ! ! ! !
So if any resason that I don't fit in your plan of a whole, by all means walk and it will be easy for the both of us, because I DON'T COME IN PARTS.
poem by Clarence Williams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The writing of good limericks you see
requires two parts insanitee -
two parts rhythyme
and three parts rhyme.
With that, you'll master the art completelee.
quote by by Otido Omukuba
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Always Available
Some red dirt cowboys know how to cook beans
All red dirt cowboys know how to rope and tie
Some red dirt cowboys can even make a quilt
But one thing they won't ever do is say good-bye
So try to imagine life on the Oklahoma red plains
With early settlers making their dreams come true
Early red dirt cowboys had the best of all worlds
They were always available to love and protect you
poem by John McCornack
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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