He who ventures into the bush should close his ears to rattling.
Related quotes
That Beating Of The Bush
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
I have this 'thing' about honest and truth.
And those who become offended,
By declaring them too harsh to accept!
There has not been an experience I received,
I regretted with a wish to forget!
And those attempting to live their lives,
In pretense to deceive believing this is not deception...
Will always escape with excuses and alibis to make.
Charading as if...
No one recognizes,
Who is in masquerade.
And who amongst them fakes!
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
An honesty and truth spoken,
From deceivers is rare.
Those who deceive perceive...
Those who are direct and honest,
Are insensitive and do not care!
With a sharing of this mentality...
To those empathetic,
In a keeping of delusions...
Spared from despair!
But I know I'm not the only one...
Who elects to see,
Dishonesty from all people get up and leave.
I can't be!
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Surprise in Japan - Our Rattling Plates
earthquake
teutonic plates rattle
our plates
earthquake
rattling our nerves
the plates on the shelf
softly rattling
to an earthquake
our plates on the shelf
ratting plates
our seismic
detector
rattling plates
oh it is the earthquake
bothering us again
Ring of Fire
every now and then
our plates rattle
rattling plates
a belief in fate keeps
my heart calm
rattling plates
i put my life in
the hands of god
Japan is on one of the most siesmic proned region of the world called ring of fire. In our apartment, every now and then, the plates we stack one over the other on the shelf would rattle. When the earthquake was
strong enough, they would jump off the shelf. It was a surprise to me at first when I heard our plates rattled every now and then especially at night.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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During the 1950s, Aristotle Onassis and I formed what grew to be a close friendship and association in several business ventures.
quote by Paul Getty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Music of nature
I forget all other sounds
When I listen
To the music of nature
It soothes my heart and soul
It’s pleasing to my ears
Sound of flowing water,
Chirping of birds
Pouring of rain,
Whistling of the wind
Takes me to the world of god
Rattling of leaves on the tree
Humming of bees
Buzzing of wasps is
Devotional music to my ears?
I feel nearer to god
Whenever I listen
To the music of nature
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Pretenses
this is what
they want to see of you
a handsome face, strong arms, clean fingernails,
broad shoulders,
determined eyes that look always forward
scented ears
the best feet and
good standing,
to please them
you give those parts to all to them
and what you will get
in return is the
applause,
everybody is happy,
except you,
it was not you,
it will never be you,
you are in truth not the one that you really are
you only comply what what they want to see
and surely they will get them
they will get
what they see
you go inside your room
slowly disassemble yourself
all those beautiful parts
a handsome face, strong arms, clean fingernails,
broad shoulders,
determined eyes that look always forward
scented ears
the best feet and
good standing,
you lie in your bed without looking at the mirror
it takes only the rattling of your bones
to tell you who you really are
then you close your weary eyes
and sleep
the dream will join you in these truths
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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79
pretenses
this is what
they want to see of you
a handsome face, strong arms, clean fingernails,
broad shoulders,
determined eyes that look always forward
scented ears
the best feet and
good standing,
to please them
you give those parts to all to them
and what you will get
in return is the
applause,
everybody is happy,
except you,
it was not you,
it will never be you,
you are in truth not the one that you really are
you only comply what what they want to see
and surely they will get them
they will get
what they see
you go inside your room
slowly disassemble yourself
all those beautiful parts
a handsome face, strong arms, clean fingernails,
broad shoulders,
determined eyes that look always forward
scented ears
the best feet and
good standing,
you lie in your bed without looking at the mirror
it takes only the rattling of your bones
to tell you who you really are
then you close your weary eyes
and sleep
the dream will join you in these truths
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Picked A Flower
I picked a flower from a bush
And I loved it so
Put it in a vase next to my bed
But how was I to know
That the flower cried for its bush
That the bush cried for its flower
But how was I to know
That the flower would die in an hour
The flower withered away
And I put it inside my book
Because I loved the flower so
But how was I to know
That the flower gasped for breath
That it was facing death
But how was I to know
That the flower so badly wanted to go
And I kept the flower close to me
So that every day I could see
But how was I know
That the flower that I had loved so
Had always hated me
That there was pain I couln't see
And how was I to know?
poem by Shobhita Singh
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When the Bush Begins to Speak
They know us not in England yet, their pens are overbold;
We're seen in fancy pictures that are fifty years too old.
They think we are a careless race - a childish race, and weak;
They'll know us yet in England, when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
'The leaders that will be', the men of southern destiny,
Are not all found in cities that are builded by the sea;
They learn to love Australia by many a western creek,
They'll know them yet in England, when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
All ready for the struggle, and waiting for the change,
The army of our future lies encamped beyond the range;
Australia, for her patriots, will not have far to seek;
They'll know her yet in England when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
We'll find the peace and comfort that our fathers could not find,
Or some shall strike the good old blow that leaves a mark behind.
We'll find the Truth and Liberty our fathers came to seek,
Or let them know in England when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Poparazzi
tune
tune for the poparazzi
tune for the poparazzi
this is a tune the poparazzi
the who's who and the so and so's
this is a tune for the graven images of marilyn monroe
we saw your face on the magazine
we heard the song on the mp3
you're stuck in my head
stuck in my head
stuck in my head
you can close your ears and your eyes
but the pop will never leave you alone
tune for the poparazzi
leave me alone
with your social lingo
you try so hard to stay on top
leave me alone
with your little jingle
with your picture perfect pop
we read the article in seventeen
we saw the video on mtv
you're stuck in my head
stuck in my head
stuck in my head
you can close your ears and your eyes
but the pop will never leave you alone
pop will never leave you alone
noooo
this is a tune for the late nirvana
the teen spirit rock and roll
this is a tune for the velvet elvis's
on the 90210
i thought my eyes were gonna get off clean
till i read your lips on the tv screen
you were busy saying what you didn't mean
now everyone is singing along with your ridiculous song
you got it stuck you
got it stuck in my head
stuck in my head
stuck in my head
you can close your ears and your eyes
you can close your ears and your eyes
but the pop will never leave you alone
tune for the poparazzi
tune for the poparazzi
song performed by by Switchfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Progress
THEY’VE builded wooden timber tracks,
And a trolly with screaming brakes
Noses into the secret bush,
Into the birdless brooding bush,
And the tall old gums it takes.
And down in the sunny valley,
The snorting saw screams slow;
O bush that nursed my people,
O bush that cursed my people,
That flayed and made my people,
I weep to watch you go
poem by Frank Wilmot
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ONE PERSON (Love Poem)
So close, that we are drowning,
So close, that we are still in madness,
So close, that we are invisible in our love,
So close, that we are one 10000 miles apart,
So close, that we do not have to talk to know,
So close, that our hearts beat like one heart,
So close, that we dream the same dreams,
So close, that we breathe the same air,
So close, that we are one person.
poem by Ian Beckett
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I Snapped
Like nails on a chalk board
Like the rattling of a plastic bag
Like a paper being creased repeatedly and then suddenly teared
Like a squeaky mouse constantly being squeaked
Like toy fire truck with the buttons forever being pushed
So irritating
So aggravating
A cover my ears sensation
It turns in to headache
And it keep going and going
No stop in sight
My head is spinning
I just can't take it no more.
And bam I snapped.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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On Certain Elizabethan revivals
O RUFF-EMBASTIONED vast Elizabeth,
Bush to these bushel-bellied casks of wine,
Home-growth, 'tis true, but rank as turpentine—
What would we with such skittle-plays at death?
Say, must we watch these brawlers' brandished lathe,
Or to their reeking wit our ears incline,
Because all Castaly flowed crystalline
In gentle Shakspeare's modulated breath?
What! must our drama with the rat-pit vie,
Nor the scene close while one is left to kill?
Shall this be poetry? And thou—thou man
Of blood, thou cannibalic Caliban,
What shall be said of thee? A poet?—Fie!
“An honourable murderer, if you will.”
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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I must go to the bush again
I must go to the bush again
and for a time be free,
from the inward chill
of the big city
and the emptiness
that life among strangers brings.
I must go to the bush again
and see the baobab trees,
frame against the setting sun
and know that somehow
the Almighty One
cares about everyone and me.
I must go to the bush again
and watch the wild buck,
drink from a stream
and see the crocodiles slide
into back into the water
and find the tranquillity
that nature brings.
I must go to the bush again
and give a prayer
and to find solace there,
from a world
that’s totally out of control.
poem by Gert Strydom
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27 Years In The Bush
27 years in the bush!
I am still finding my way through to reach to the city;
And i need a teacher on this issue to guid eme through this thick bush.
Life is very hard for me alone in this bush,
But i have to hide to save my name;
For the bombs are everywhere and many of my friends are dead already,
And i need a clever teacher who knows the bush very well to lead me on.
27 years in the bush!
Life in Africa does have many colours;
But my faith will surely lead me on till i reach to the city of love,
And i have to save myself from these bombs.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Beating Around The Bush
Smiling face and loving eyes
But you keep on telling me all those lies
Howd you xpect me to believe?
Honey I aint that naive
Baby I got my eye on you
cause you do all the things I want you to
Stop your crying and dry your tears
I aint that wet behing the ears
Well you can throw me left
And you can throw me right
But where was you last night?
Beating around the bush
Wish I knew whats on your mind
Why you bein so unkind?
member those nights we spent alone
Talkin on the telephone
Thought of you go through my brain
Told me that you felt the same
Told me that you loved me too
Tell me, who would lie with you?
Well you can chew it up
And you can spit it out
Let it all hang out
Beating around the bush
Youre the meanest woman Ive ever known
Sticks and stones wont break my bones
I know what youre lookin for
You ate you cake, you want some more
Im gonna give you just a one more change
Try to save our romance
Thats all Im gonna do
The rest is up to you
You can chew it up
And you can spit it out
Let it all hang out
Beating around the bush
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On The Night Train
Have you seen the bush by moonlight, from the train, go running by?
Blackened log and stump and sapling, ghostly trees all dead and dry;
Here a patch of glassy water; there a glimpse of mystic sky?
Have you heard the still voice calling – yet so warm, and yet so cold:
"I'm the Mother-Bush that bore you! Come to me when you are old"?
Did you see the Bush below you sweeping darkly to the Range,
All unchanged and all unchanging, yet so very old and strange!
While you thought in softened anger of the things that did estrange?
(Did you hear the Bush a-calling, when your heart was young and bold:
"I'm the Mother-bush that nursed you; Come to me when you are old"?)
In the cutting or the tunnel, out of sight of stock or shed,
Did you hear the grey Bush calling from the pine-ridge overhead:
"You have seen the seas and cities – all is cold to you, or dead –
All seems done and all seems told, but the grey-light turns to gold!
I'm the Mother-Bush that loves you – come to me now you are old"?
poem by Henry Lawson
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Do You Close Your Eyes
do you close your eyes when you kiss me
do you close your eyes if you miss me
and do you wonder why
i sent for you tonight
do you wonder why
golden bells are ringing in the year
through all the tears you cried for me
i always knew you could
so hide inside your looking-glass surprise
the lies become the truth you hide
the lies become the lusty night
do you close your eyes when you kiss me
do you close your eyes if you miss me
and do you wonder why
i sent for you tonight
do you wonder why
do you dream your dreams when you're with me
and do you see the things that i see
and is it true enough
is it true of love
secrets cloud your ears and fill your nights
with compromise and shadows torn
you make your way to him
the moon becomes your silent confidant
the one you want will stand alone
the one you love is never known
do you close your eyes when you kiss me
do you close your eyes if you miss me
and do you wonder why
i sent for you tonight
do you wonder why
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Detroit
I am dreaming of a michigan girlfriend
All bright-eyed and happy in pain
I am dreaming of a michigan girl
See her come around
Fall down, break & scatter everywhere...
I close my eyes and I can see her waiting
I am pleading for a michigan dream girl
I am pleading for a michigan girl
See her come around
Big lie wrapped inside her little glove...
I close my eyes and I can see her waiting patient for me
I cover my ears
I clear my mind
She starts to fade...
(I am dreaming of a michigan girlfriend)
Shes starting to fade...
(I am dreaming of a michigan girl)
I close my eyes
I see her waiting oh so patient for me
I cover my ears
I close my mind
Shes starting to fade
song performed by by Everclear
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ears And The Eyes
so many things my ears have missed
if only the Almighty has set them for
more vibrations of excitements such as
those of rattling earth plates pulling
buildings and us off our feet
so many things my eyes cannot see
if only the Almighty has structured them
to see the realms, so many other worlds
we would know and be friends with
so many things the mind cannot fathom
if only the Almighty could raise it out
of the mundane to concentrate on the
essence of his creations, and to string
their relationships one by one into
a necklace we could all wear how
perfect a world we could all be in
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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