He who doesn't die on the battlefield slips in the bathtub.
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Battlefield Of Love
I am a soldier
A casualty of love
I've been from heaven
All the way to hell
I've had a journey
Much more than I can tell
I've got stories
Much more than I can sell
All this mass confusion
Causes chaos in my brain
I'm on the battlefield
The battlefield of love
With all of the illusions
I won't ever be the same
I'm on the battlefield
The battlefield of love
I'm a prisoner
A prisoner of love
I have been captured
And kept underground
I have been tortured
But I don't make a sound
'Cause I know one day
One day I will be found
All this mass confusion
Causes chaos in my brain
I'm on the battlefield
The battlefield of love
With all of the illusions
I won't ever be the same
I'm on the battlefield
The battlefield of love
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz from Lenny
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bathtub Gin
Brett is in the bathtub
Making soup for the ambassadors
And I am in the hallway
Singing to the troubadours
The kings are all lined up
Outside the gate
And the autumn bells are ringing
But theyll just have to wait
Where is the joker?
Have you seen him around
With his three coned cap
That he wears like a clown?
Have you seen his stripped stockings
And heard his sad tale
About the kids under the carpet
And the purple humpbacked whales
Here come the ambassadors
They show up one by one
Brett is tasting all the soup
To see if it is done
Wendys on the windowsill
Waiting to be let in
And were all in the bathtub now
Making bathtub gin
The kings storm the hallway
Theyve climbed up through the gate
They didnt mean to be impolite
But they just couldnt wait
Here comes the joker
With his silly grin
He carries a martini
Made of bathtub gin
Here comes the joker
We all must laugh
Cause were all in this together
And we love to take a bath.
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just Because
Just because you did
Doesn't mean that you should
Just because you can
Doesn't mean that you could
Just because you are able
Doesn't mean you would
Just because you sat
Doesn't mean you should‘ve stood.
Just because you spoke
Doesn't mean that you thought
Just because you looked
Doesn't mean that you sought
Just because you argued
Doesn't mean that you fought
Just because you dreamed
Doesn't mean that you wished not.
Just because you cried
Doesn't mean that you wept
Just because you had
Doesn't mean that you kept
Just because you cleaned
Doesn't mean that you swept
Just because you said yes
Doesn't mean that you accept.
Just because you gathered
Doesn't mean that you own
Just because you gave up
Doesn't mean that you were alone
Just because you saw
Doesn't mean that you were shown
Just because you expiate
Doesn't mean you should atone.
Just because your old
Doesn't mean that you have flaws
Just because you won
Doesn't mean you have to applause
Just because you waited
Doesn't mean that you paused
Just because you were you
Doesn't mean anything, because.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Mowing Over More Woes
Leave me with my rubber duckie,
In my bathtub feeling lucky.
These days we live right now are suckie.
And can make one feel so yucky!
With a nitpick, sticky, pricking fit,
That can make one go ballistic quick.
Time alone at home is wanted.
So I disconnect the phone.
Just to sit in quietness,
Away from lip flipped arguments.
To relax and feel free...
To sip,
On a cup of tea!
These days we live right now are suckie.
And can make one feel so yucky!
But when I rub my rubber duckie,
In my bathtub I feel lucky.
Enjoying my time,
Relaxed...
With a cup of tea!
When I rub my rubber duckie,
In my bathtub I feel lucky.
Freed I am from arguments...
To me that makes no bit of sense.
When I rub my rubber duckie,
In my bathtub I feel lucky.
Freed I am from arguments...
To me that makes no bit of sense.
When I rub my rubber duckie,
In my bathtub I feel lucky.
Freed I am from arguments...
To me that makes no bit of sense,
To keep a mowing over more woes.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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All the Riches of Royalty
The king sat in his silver bathtub one morning
And he realized, as he soaked in the soft bubbles
That you can not rule your kingdom from a silver bathtub
So he did what any other king in a silver bathtub would do-
He got out.
Looking down, he realized that he was standing on his silver rug
And as he dried his arms, he considered that perhaps
You cannot rule a kingdom from a silver bathroom rug
So he slowly stepped off of the rug, and watched the patterns of his feet
Disappear into the silver carpet.
The king walked over to his window and looked over his kingdom.
It lay below him, sparkling in all it's silver beauty
And as he watched, it seemed to come alive with people
Shining like silver in the warm sun
A tear rolled down his quietly down his cheek
And he pondered that
Maybe, just maybe
Being a king is not all that they say it is
poem by Fallen Too Far
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Spirit Slips Away
When the spirit slips away
Theres nothing you can do, theres nothing you can say
May the angels be watching over you
When your spirit slips away
When the darkness starts to fall
Youre on your own and your backs against the wall
May the angels bring their flame to you
When your spirit slips away
And when the music that makes you blue
Unfolds its secrets, the mysteries are told to you
May the angels sing rejoice to you
That fateful day when your spirit slips away
song performed by by Thin Lizzy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spirit Slips Away
When the spirit slips away
Theres nothing you can do, theres nothing you can say
May the angels be watching over you
When your spirit slips away
When the darkness starts to fall
Youre on your own and your backs against the wall
May the angels bring their flame to you
When your spirit slips away
And when the music that makes you blue
Unfolds its secrets, the mysteries are told to you
May the angels sing rejoice to you
That fateful day when your spirit slips away
song performed by by Thin Lizzy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mrs O’Hara’s Bathtub (Fun Poem 39)
Rub-a-dub-dub,
Mrs O’Hara’s bathtub,
a towel gone for a drink,
fell into the tub.
What is the poor lady to dry herself with now?
Oh, dear what can she do,
the robe she thought,
give it a tug,
but it fell into the tub.
Now what was she going to do?
Call for her husband.
A yell, a scream is heard,
as he rushes in like a buffalo herd.
“What is the matter, dear? ” he says,
and then slips up on a bar of soap.
Rub-a -dub-dub,
Mrs O’Hara, towel, robe, and hubby all in the tub.
19 April 1979
poem by David Harris
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Developments in information technology and globalised media mean that the most powerful military in the history of the world can lose a war, not on the battlefield of dust and blood, but on the battlefield of world opinion.
quote by Timothy Garton Ash
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Storming of the Bastille
In France on the 14th July people eat out, remembering a fact:
On the 14th July 1789 there was the invention of the restaurant.
That day there was the storming of the Bastille
However one has to eat every day.
The Bastille held seven prisoners: among them, four youngs.
That one was the revolution of the lawyers: Robespierre, Danton, Saint Just;
They became judges, cut the heads of dad king and mom queen.
Had those sovereigns their heads? People needed bread.
Marat was struggling with his eczema in a bathtub,
He fell on the battlefield. Citoyens, people are hungry.
Oh Jacobins your heads didn't survive, either.
Maybe it's expensive today but, Lesbia, can I invite you to dinner?
Aux armes, citoyens.
poem by Paolo Giuseppe Mazzarello
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In a soap maker's house, a person who doesn't fall, slips.
I am not a soldier
'Hey! I take my hands up
And please don't shoot me
This is my grand son's toy gun.'
'Then why did you come to the battlefield? ' Soldier inquired.
'I am jogging as per my diabetes doctor's advise.'
'You should go to a playground.'
'Certainly this is a playground not a battlefield brother,
Both parties are friends and why hold the guns?
While enemies groan in their castles comfortably.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Forty Dollar Bathtub
a forty dollar galvanized bathtub!
carrying buckets of water up the hill
to heat on the old cook stove...
i watched you bathing in the kitchen,
in the old house down on Henry River.
fried Spam and pork 'n beans,
moonlit trips to the outhouse....
stray dogs on the porch.
endless truckloads of wood scraps;
we made love through winter nights,
so cold in the room you could see your breath!
you licked the frost from my moustache,
and the world went on without us....
a forty dollar bathtub, buckets of water,
nothing needed, nothing more!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Battlefield
(paul carrack/nick lowe)
I live on a battlefield
Surrounding by the ruins of a love we built
And them destroyed between us
The smoke has cleared
As I stumble through the rubble
Im dazed, seeing double
And Im truly mystified
My new home is a shell-hole filled
With tears and muddy water
And bits of broken heart
All around, there is desolation
Scenes of devestation
Of a love been torn apart
I live on a battlefield
Though one where not one
Single drop of blood has spilled
Is no less horryfying
Sweet memories
Of a bygone situation
Lie shattered, torn and battered
And scattered all around
My new home is a shell-hole filled
With tears and muddy water
And bits of broken heart
All around, there is desolation
Scenes of devestation
Of a love been torn apart
Everything that can, has gone wrong
Its gonna take spine to carry on
Like a drownin woman coming up for air
Im looking for another survivor
I cant see one anywhere
My new home is a shell-hole filled
With tears and muddy water
And bits of broken heart
All around, there is desolation
Scenes of devestation
Of a love been torn apart
I live on a battlefield, hey
I live on a battlefield, hey
Cant go on, baby
Tears and muddy water
Scattered all around me, babe
I live on a battlefield
I live on a battlefield
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Butterfly
Yesterday i went outside
With my momma's mason jar
Caught a lovely butterfly
When I woke up today
Looked in on my fairy pet
She had withered all away
No more sighing in her breast
I'm sorry for what I did
I did what my body told me to
I didn't mean to do you harm
Everytime I pin down what I think I want it slips away
The ghost slips away
Smell you on my hand for days
I can't wash away your scent
If I'm a dog then you're a bitch
I guess you're as real as me
Maybe I can live with that
Maybe I need fantasy
Life of chasing butterfly
I'm sorry for what I did
I did what my body told me to
I didn't mean to do you harm
Everytime I pin down what I think I want it slips away
The ghost slips away
I told you I would return
When the robin makes his nest
But I ain't never coming back
I'm sorry
I'm sorry
I'm sorry
song performed by by Weezer from Pinkerton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Across The Battlefield
Hear the cannons roar
across the battlefield
with its pits of pain
where the dead and dying lay.
In the no man’s land
that separates friend from foe.
Hear the mournful sounds
of weeping flesh
entangled within the baptism of death.
Across the battlefield
where there are fleeting ghosts
of those who fell on another day.
One day the guns may fall silent
and flowers will once again dance
with an evening breeze.
Instead of the blood of innocence
milking the no man’s ground.
Birds may again sing one day
replacing the agony of young men
dying before their time.
In twenty, fifty or a hundred years
they will be remembered
for the sacrifice they gave,
condemning themselves to an early grave.
Maybe when that day comes
no more cannons will again roar
across the battlefield
with its pits of pain.
19 May 2009
poem by David Harris
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter CXXI: It doesn't mean any harm
It may be provocative
It may be disturbing
But it doesn't mean any harm
It may be rough
It may be emotional
But it doesn't mean any harm
It may be wild
It may be rebellious
But it doesn't mean any harm
It may go unplanned
It may look careless
But it doesn't mean any harm
It may be a nuisance
It may be a mistake
But it doesn't mean any harm
It may be a mess
It may be complicated
But it doesn't mean any harm
It may be slow progress
It may test the patience
But it doesn't mean any harm
It may be a hard blow
It may shake the faith
But it doesn't mean any harm
It may be cursed
It may be judged cruel
But it doesn't mean any harm
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Shooter and the clay pigeon
The young marksman who is in the services deprives her as a slave.
His love seems to her like military orders.
But how can she salute him in despair?
He is not the right partner though he is well polished.
Let him choose a quarrelsome lass and search for a polite soldier who really fights with life.
*I dedicate this poem to my brother soldiers who are in the meaningless battlefield on this precious Christmas day.
The Lord Jesus preached about brotherhood against the battlefield?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Butterfly
Yesterday I went outside
With my momma's mason jar
Caught a lovely butterfly
When I woke up today
Looked in on my fairy pet
She had withered all away
No more sighing in her breast
I'm sorry for what I did
I did what my body told me to
I didn't mean to do you harm
Every time I pin down
What I think I want it slips away
Her ghost slips away
Smell you on my hand for days
I can't wash away your scent
If I'm a dog then you're a bitch
I guess you're as real as me
Baby, I can't live with that
Baby, I need fantasy
Life of chasing butterfly
I'm sorry for what I did
I did what my body told me to
I didn't mean to do you harm
Every time I pin down
What I think I want it slips away
Her ghost slips away
I told you I would return
When the robin makes his nest
But I ain't never coming back
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...
song performed by by Ataris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A War To End All Wars, But Wasn’t
They not only fought the enemy,
but fought the elements as well.
They fought for their country
in lands far from home.
They fought rain, mud and the enemy
in trenches stained with blood
from those who had fallen there before.
They fought on and on
while the Generals watched
the slaughter from far away.
For their mistakes men died
by the score across the battlefield.
Their blood would stained the land
then and forever more.
Then came the gas
like a creeping mist across the battlefield
that silenced all in its wake.
It made no distinction to young or old,
just poisoned all it touched.
Their contorted bodies rotted where they fell.
They said this was a war to end all wars, but it wasn’t.
Almost twenty years later
men from different countries gathered to fight another war
and again in the trenches men fell.
The mechanics had changed;
machines became more prevalent across the battlefield,
still men died for small victories in the tide of war.
3 July 2008
poem by David Harris
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