He who scrubs the head of an ass wastes his soap.
Related quotes
Wasting
Wealth wastes on the rich with no value
Beauty wastes on virgins with no access.
Youth wastes on the young with the denial.
The society is willingly witness.
11.11.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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People used to complain that selling a president was like selling a bar of soap. But when you buy soap, at least you get the soap. In this campaign you just get two guys telling you they really value cleanliness.
quote by David Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Keep It Clean
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
So hard they've tried to reflect perfection.
A wholesome outlook,
With good deeds done they do!
They want to project a godlike self righteousness.
With wings adorned and hymns sung!
Angelic voices from everyone,
Harmonizing,
In collective united bliss.
But the truth about this...
There is BS that sits within their midst,
And not one of them can resist
An addicting sniff!
Since they are all full of it!
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
Something kept stinking...
From fat greasy meat.
Suited and smoking cigars,
Chartering planes with high profiled stars.
And posing with those who piloted...
The sucking up of all resources.
As admirers rejoiced!
Thinking they heard 'voices' from beyond...
'You too could live like this!
We'll make sure of it! '
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
Screwing fools!
'Keep it clean! '
That's what they do best!
'Keep the scene serene.
Deodorize the stench that leaks.
Protect that image.
And hide the blood left...
To leave as expected on urban streets! '
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
By the time it surfaces...
There will be nothing left to squander.
And the fools we duped with treason,
Will have nothing left to value...
And very little to say!
Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Excelsis Deo - A Surrealist Carol For Madrigal Choir To Be Sung While Bathing
.
Hair of soap and head of tears
rinse mine eyes of Christmas stars
O bells, the bells sear me
Wash my hair of splendid fears
water me hot and redly rare
O trumps, the trumpets blear me
Scars heal me up to here
scald me pinkly if you dare
O gay, the gay sleds slay me
Is that flesh floating on the surface me
who swims or sinks fraternally?
I know a strange me
with soap for eyes
and suds for see
Eternally yours,
He.
poem by Warren Falcon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To lather an ass's head is only wasting soap.
Sullied
She plunges into the hot water
and begins to scrub. Brush and
soap on skin. She wants him off
and out of her. Undo him from her.
Unkiss his kisses, untouch his touches.
She breathes in. She reeks, stinks
of him. He seems to have penetrated
every orifice on her body. She pushes
herself under the water, holds herself
there, opens her eyes even the sting
brings no purification. She sits up and
holds the sides of the bath. Calm down
she tells her shaking hands and legs
but they disobey and carry on like
disobedient children in play. She tries
to think of other things. Think of
somewhere nice, some time once
enjoyed, some pleasure once had,
sipping of the best wine, greedy
eating of caviar or grape. But no.
Everything is focused on him and
the rape. She rubs and scrubs until
she's red and raw. Stop stop her
inner voice screams. Nothing is
what it seems. He pushes his way
even into her every thought now.
He seeps into every pore. The water
fails to clean. She sits there naked,
undone, brush in hand, hair in a mess.
This is not real she says, but knows
it is, she in the bath, wet, raw, sore
and sullied. Yes that's a word mother
would have used: sullied. Tainted,
tarnished, degraded or as Mother
would have said: dishonoured. She
focuses on each aspect of her flesh
as if seen for the first time. What
you focus on is your reality. Who said
that? Does it matter now? Dostoevsky?
The Idiot, that book. Who cares who
said what. The water is no longer hot.
He is still on skin and in orifice in spite
of the rubs and scrubs and tears and curses.
No longer the innocent, no more the
sipping of wine or eating of grape.
Just him and memory of the rape.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ballad of the Black-Sheep
A black-sheep, from England, who worked on the run –
Riding where the stockmen ride –
He sat by the hut when the day’s work was done –
Lone huts where the black sheep bide.
“I’m tired of my life!” to his lone self said he,
“My girl and my country are both done with me!”
“I’m tired of my life!” to the wide scrubs said he –
“My girl and my country are long done with me!”
He took from a packet a portrait and curl –
Such things as the exiles keep –
And sadly he gazed at the face of the girl –
Lost girl of a lost black-sheep.
“I’ll go where there’s fighting and die there!” said he;
“My girl and my country are well rid of me.
“I’ll go where there’s fighting and die there,” said he;
“For heart-break and country that’s well rid of me!”
He rode with a thousand, he rode with the best –
Riding as bushmen ride –
Who’d ridden alone on the wastes of the West –
Wide wastes where the drought-fiends bide,
They rode as they’d ride to an up-country ball,
And the laugh of the black-sheep was lightest of all!
The road was a shambles, the hill was a hell –
Red rosed where the reckless ride –
And he with the foremost lay torn by a shell –
(Die hard where your father died!)
“the death of a rebel!” he laughed as he groaned –
“for the land that adoptee – the land that disowned!”
the death of a black-sheep! – they laugh as they groan –
for the lands that adopt and the lands that disown!
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Wonder What It Feels Like to be Drowned?
Look at my knees,
That island rising from the steamy seas!
The candles a tall lightship; my two hands
Are boats and barges anchored to the sands,
With mighty cliffs all round;
They’re full of wine and riches from far lands….
I wonder what it feels like to be drowned?
I can make caves,
By lifting up the island and huge waves
And storms, and then with head and ears well under
Blow bubbles with a monstrous roar like thunder,
A bull-of-Bashan sound.
The seas run high and the boats split asunder….
I wonder what it feels like to be drowned?
The thin soap slips
And slithers like a shark under the ships.
My toes are on the soap-dish—that’s the effect
Of my huge storms; an iron steamer’s wrecked.
The soap slides round and round;
He’s biting the old sailors, I expect….
I wonder what it feels like to be drowned?
poem by Robert Graves
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To wash an ass's head is but loss of time and soap.
The rational man finds that his share of the cost of the wastes he discharges into the commons is less than the cost of purifying his wastes before releasing them.
quote by Garrett Hardin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soap opera wouldn't be my first choice, but at this point in my life, I would consider a soap. It would allow me to act and still do other things with my life.
Mother's Intuition
(Carly Simon)
It's a mother's intuition
To make a little space
It's her quiet mission to tidy up her place
A mother's intuition is like a kangaroo's
She hops around, she mops the ground
She fusses over you
A mother
With her intuition
Will know just what to do
It's a mother's intuition to wash her baby
Well she won't forget behind the ears
And the extra soap suds on the tail
A mother's into cleaning
She'll clean until she's through
She's smart enough
She's wise enough
To add up two and two
A mother
With her intuition
Will know just what to do
A mother has a feeling
She pays special attention
If someone is concealing
If someone's playing tricks
She rubs and scrubs and scours the secrets
Until the answer clicks
Then she takes a brush
And polishes your teeth
She'll make you shine and sparkle new
Until she finds the real you
Underneath
Isn't it charming?
Just mommy and little Roo
Fresh as a daisy
Sparkling just like new
It's a mother's intuition
It's a mother's intuition
It's a mother's intuition
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Excelsis Deo - Variations Of A Surrealist Carol For Madrigal Choir To Be Sung While Bathing
1
Hair of soap and head of tears
rinse mine eyes of Christmas stars
O bells, the bells sear me
Wash my hair of splendid fears
water me hot and redly rare
O trumps, the trumpets blear me
Scars heal me up to here
scald me pinkly if you dare
O gay, the gay sleds slay me
Is that flesh floating on the surface me
who swims or sinks fraternally?
I know a strange me
with soap for eyes
and suds for see
Eternally yours,
He.
2
Hair of soap
and head of tears
Rinse mine eyes
of Christmas stars
O Bells, the Bells sear me.
Rinse mine eyes
of Christmas stars
Water me hot
and redly rare
O Fey, the Fey stars blear me.
Water me hot
and redly rare
Scald me pinkly
if you dare
O Gay, the Gay sleds slay me.
Is that flesh
floating on the
surface me who
swims or sinks
fraternally?
I know a strange me
with soap for eyes
and suds to see
Eternally yours,
He.
poem by Warren Falcon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Man’s Wasted Pelf
Man squanders money in space;
Man puts big sums in futile wars;
Man wastes huge amounts to kill;
Man wastes big sums to get an easy thrill!
Man spends a lot in abortions;
Man spends for keeping vices alive;
Man wastes time to earn ill-got wealth;
Man has no time to keep his health!
And coffers remain empty;
Tax-money goes down the drain;
Budget is pilfered for kick-backs;
And debts keep mounting up steeply.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-12-11
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To wash an ass's head is but loss of time and soap. (To reprove a fool is but lost labour.)
In Excelsis Deo - A Surrealist Carol For Madrigal Choir To Be Sung While Bathing 2
.
Later revision
Hair of soap
and head of tears
Rinse mine eyes
of Christmas stars
O Bells, the Bells sear me.
Rinse mine eyes
of Christmas stars
Water me hot
and redly rare
O Fey, the Fey stars blear me.
Water me hot
and redly rare
Scald me pinkly
if you dare
O Gay, the Gay sleds slay me.
Is that flesh
floating on the
surface me who
swims or sinks
fraternally?
I know a strange me
with soap for eyes
and suds to see
Eternally yours,
He.
poem by Warren Falcon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I have also just finished three weeks on a soap opera in England. The soap opera is a rather famous one called Crossroads. It was first on television 25 years ago, and it has recently been brought back. I play the part of a businessman called David Wheeler.
quote by Jeremy Bulloch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blind Youth
No future they say
But must it be that way?
Now is calling
The city is human
Blind youth take hope, youre no joe soap
Your time is due, big fun come soon
Weve had it easy, we should be glad
High-rise livings not so bad
Blind youth take hope, youre no joe soap
Your time is due, big fun come soon
Dehumanisation
Is such a big word
Its been around since
Richard the third
Dehumanisation
Its easy to say
But if youre not a hermit
Youll know the citys okay
No future they say
But must it be that way
Now is calling
The city is human
Blind youth take hope, youre no joe soap
Your time is due, big fun come soon
Blind youth take hope, youre no joe soap
Your time is due, big fun come soon
Weve had it easy, we should be glad
High-rise livings not so bad
Blind youth take hope, youre no joe soap
Your time is due, big fun come soon
Blind youth take hope, youre no joe soap
Your time is due, big fun come soon
Blind youth take hope, youre no joe soap
Your time is due, big fun come soon
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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