He who has a back is not beaten on the belly.
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Belly rub
Belly rub,
belly rub,
begs my dog.
Gonna catch that freesby,
then bring it right back to you.
Belly rub,
belly rub,
begs my dog.
if you feed me steak, ill jump in
the pool.
Belly rub,
belly rub,
begs my dog.
if you let me sleep in your bed,
ill protect you from demons and
ghost.
poem by David Gerardino
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For My Dog Amber Who Died A Year Ago
Belly rub,
belly rub,
begs my dog.
Gonna catch that freesby,
then bring it right back to you.
Belly rub,
belly rub,
begs my dog.
if you feed me steak, ill jump in
the pool.
Belly rub,
belly rub,
begs my dog.
if you let me sleep in your bed,
ill protect you from demons and
ghost.
poem by David Gerardino
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pitiful
as I recall when my stomach turned
and I was hiding away from myself
away from you
like nothing but something was terribly wrong
and I admit that I was only waiting for the right time (right time)
right moment for you to look away
though you never did I pretended for a while
so I could walk where I don't belong
I remember every word you said
come back in time come back
and I remember I was too beaten
pitiful so pitiful
but I know as they hammered those nails
into your beautiful hands
your eyes they tried to search for mine
but I look away
now your eyes are the only thing that can save me
I'm still afraid of them piercin'
you break into my prison
just pretended for a while
my soul is sad and I walk away
I remember every word you said
come back in time come back
and I remember I was too beaten
pitiful so pitiful
pitiful
pitiful
pitiful
pitiful
so pitiful
and I remember every word you said
but this time I won't look away
and I remember every word you said
and this time I won't look away
and I remember every word you said
come back in time come back
and I remember I was so beaten
pitiful so pitiful
and I remember every word you said (pitiful)
come back in time come back (pitiful)
and I remember I was too beaten (pitiful)
pitiful so pitiful
song performed by by Blindside from Silence
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beaten To The Punch
You say that you can and then you run to get your mummy
And youre almost beaten to the punch
Looking for the man who sold you the dummy
And youre almost beaten to the punch
Laughing at the older guys who say its just as well
Saved by the wedding bell
Almost beaten to the punch
Youre looking for somebody new that you can knock around
You are almost beaten to the punch
If youve got a head for figures then youd better count me out
You were almost beaten to the punch
You pulled the piece but you soon called it love
You go hand in glove
Almost beaten to the punch
Your body speaks much louder than your voice
You let it do the talking so I dont have any choice
Now you find the younger guys are putting up resistance
And youre almost beaten to the punch
You better get out now because youll never go the distance
And youre almost beaten to the punch
Youll find a girl and youll promise her anything
Even a wedding ring
Almost beaten to the punch
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Woman, Made a Punching Bag of Man
A woman, beaten by the cruel hands of her man
Beaten as she raises her voice to challenge his words
Beaten as she goes out to celebrate her freedom
Beaten as she refuses to do what he orders and wants.
And the battered woman accepts her tragic lot
Bearing the marks of violence on her own body
Longing for golden days of love and romance
Lamenting on her destiny as punching bag of man.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who’ll Wear the Beaten Colours?
Who’ll wear the beaten colours—and cheer the beaten men?
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, till our time comes again?
Where sullen crowds are densest, and fickle as the sea,
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, and wear them home with me?
We closed the bars and gambling dens and voted straight and clean,
Our women walked while motor cars were whirling round the scene,
The Potts Point Vote was one for Greed and Ease and Luxury
With all to hold, and coward gold, and beaten folk are we.
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, with hands and pockets clean?
(I wore the beaten colours since I was seventeen)
I wore them up, and wore them down, Outback and across the sea—
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, and wear them home with me?
We wore them back from Ladysmith to where the peace was signed,
And wore them through the London streets where Jingoes howled behind.
We wore them to the Queen’s Hall, while England yelled “Pro-Boers!”
And sat them over victory while London banged the doors.1
We wore them from Port Arthur round till all sunk in the sea—
(Who’ll wear the white man’s colours, and wear them home with me?)
I’ve worn them through with gentlemen, with work-slaves and alone—
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, boys, and wear them on his own?
There’s one would look with startled eyes and shrink while I caressed,
Came I not with the colours of the conquered on my breast.
And twenty thousand Bushmen would stand with hands behind
And scorn in all their faces for the coward of his kind.
Who’ll wear the beaten colours and raise the voice they drowned—
It may be when we march again, they’ll bear some other sound—
Who’ll pin the beaten colours on and drive the beaten pen—
It may be other steel and ink when we march out again.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Indian Giver
Once we were so close we were fused,
Belly to belly
And now we're standing back to back
It's strange that we should be feuding
Once we were so close we were joined,
Forehead to forehead
Now we live in our own little worlds
We don't speak the same language
Who am I? I am you and I
Who are you? You are me too
Who are we? We are you and me
Who are they? They don't matter anyway
Once we were so close we held hands
Into the evening
Now we drift into a pea soup fog
We're lost in different directions
Et tu indian giver
song performed by by Warrant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grandma monkey loves
Monkey grandma loves
Child of her daughter more
Than child of her son
In morning dew
She carries child of daughter
Up her back and child of son
Down her belly to shake off dew
In noon sun heat
She turn child of daughter
Down her belly and child of son
Up her back to be beat by hot sun
poem by David Aoloch Bion
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beaten Into Sweetness
Beaten into sweetness.
Like grapes to produce,
A fine wine sipped.
Beaten into sweetness.
To allure and maintain,
A sizable profit held in a firm fist.
And every whiff of it sniffed,
Satisfied to the very last drop.
Beaten into sweetness.
Although a sadness carried,
Inside would not stop!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Back and Side go Bare
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
I cannot eat but little meat,
My stomach is not good;
But sure I think that I can drink
With him that wears a hood.
Though I go bare, take ye no care,
I am nothing a-cold;
I stuff my skin so full within
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
I love no roast but a nutbrown toast,
And a crab laid in the fire;
A little bread shall do me stead,
Much bread I not desire.
No frost nor snow, no wind, I trow,
Can hurt me if I would,
I am so wrapt, and throughly lapt
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
And Tib my wife, that as her life
Loveth well good ale to seek,
Full oft drinks she, till ye may see
The tears run down her cheek.
Then doth she troll to me the bowl,
Even as a maltworm should;
And saith,"Sweetheart, I took my part
Of this jolly good ale and old."
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
Now let them drink, till they nod and wink,
Even as good fellows should do;
They shall not miss to have the bliss
Good ale doth bring men to.
And all poor souls that have scoured bowls,
Or have them lustily troll'd,
God save the lives of them and their wives,
Whether they be young or old.
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
poem by William Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jolly Good Ale and Old
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
I cannot eat but little meat,
My stomach is not good;
But sure I think that I can drink
With him that wears a hood.
Though I go bare, take ye no care,
I am nothing a-cold;
I stuff my skin so full within
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
I love no roast but a nutbrown toast,
And a crab laid in the fire;
A little bread shall do me stead,
Much bread I not desire.
No frost nor snow, no wind, I trow,
Can hurt me if I would,
I am so wrapt, and throughly lapt
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
And Tib my wife, that as her life
Loveth well good ale to seek,
Full oft drinks she, till ye may see
The tears run down her cheek.
Then doth she troll to me the bowl,
Even as a maltworm should;
And saith,"Sweetheart, I took my part
Of this jolly good ale and old."
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
Now let them drink, till they nod and wink,
Even as good fellows should do;
They shall not miss to have the bliss
Good ale doth bring men to.
And all poor souls that have scoured bowls,
Or have them lustily troll'd,
God save the lives of them and their wives,
Whether they be young or old.
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
poem by William Stevenson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song of the Galley Slaves
We pulled for you when the wind was against us and the sails
were low.
Will you never let us go?
We ate bread and onions when you took towns, or ran aboard
quickly when you were beaten back by the foe.
The Captains walked up and down the deck in fair weather sing-
ing songs, but we were below.
We fainted with our chins on the oars and you did not see that
we were idle, for we still swung to and fro.
Will you never let us go?
The solt made the oar-hands like shark-skin; our knees were
cut to the bone with salt-cracks; our hair was stuck to
our foreheads; and our lips were cut to the gums, and you
whipped us because we could not row.
Will you never let us go?
But, in a little time, we shall run out of the port-holes as the water
runs along the oar-blade, and though you tell the others
to row after us you will never catch us till you catch the
oar-thresh and tie up the winds in the belly of the sail.
Aho!
Will you never let us go?
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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When I Touch Your Belly
When I touch your belly tears of amazement run down my eyes.
I am so amazed that inside your womb a life lies.
A child that was created all from our love;
God, I can’t believe that in a few weeks you’ll give birth to our miracle of love.
When I touch your belly with my ear;
I can’t believe the heart beat I hear.
It like a little drum beating a message to me;
In the sounds of the beat I swear our child is saying hi daddy.
When I touch your belly I caressing you as well as our child;
I’m caressing you to say thank you for carrying our child.
I could not have chosen a better mother then you.
These are all the things I’m saying when I touch your belly.
We are beaten, we will make no bones about it; but we are not too badly beaten still to fight.
quote by James Larkin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A chief is a man who assumes responsibility. He says ""I was beaten,"" he does not say ""My men were beaten"".
quote by Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He who is not beaten by the sun or the rain, will eventually be beaten by the hunger.
The hungry belly and the full belly do not walk the same road.
Where Home Is
Home is where my heart hasn't been
Home is where my heart's yet to be broken
Home is where I meet new sins
Home is wher I cant go back again
Home is where I haven't been beaten
Home is where my faults dont mean a thing
Home is where I haven't been beaten
Home is anywhere you and I wanna be
Do It
Im walkin downtown
No lookin around
cause Im a fool and a half
Blessed and beaten by love
I walk in the direction
But then I stop the action
cause when I try to do it
My heart is gone, I blew it
Do it...do it...
Im going on and on, just on and on
Just walkin, talkin, not a winner at all
Im boozing, losing, getting out of control
She dances hip-hop, shes on the top
Im still a fool and a half, blessed and beaten by love
Do it...do it...
Im walkin back home
Keep lookin around
Still a fool and a half
Blessed and beaten by love
She walks in my direction
Why dont she start the action
I got no guts to do it
And then shes gone, I blew it
Do it...do it...
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do It
Im walkin downtown
No lookin around
cause Im a fool and a half
Blessed and beaten by love
I walk in the direction
But then I stop the action
cause when I try to do it
My heart is gone, I blew it
Do it...do it...
Im going on and on, just on and on
Just walkin, talkin, not a winner at all
Im boozing, losing, getting out of control
She dances hip-hop, shes on the top
Im still a fool and a half, blessed and beaten by love
Do it...do it...
Im walkin back home
Keep lookin around
Still a fool and a half
Blessed and beaten by love
She walks in my direction
Why dont she start the action
I got no guts to do it
And then shes gone, I blew it
Do it...do it...
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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