If you want a fine wife, don't pick her on a Sunday.
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Words With the Big Guy(or girl?)
I tell them I’m fine.
I know that’s what they want to hear…
I don’t want to say
“I want God to pick another name.
Dear God…I want to stop holding my breath
I tell them what
they want to hear…
I don’t want to tell them
that I’m so ashamed
Please god…Don’t pick my name from the hat
I tell them the usual
social niceties…
For I know that they don’t…
Want to hear bad news and blame
Please God…just toss me a bone
I tell them I’m fine
Never felt so good…
Never had need
of fortune or fame
So God…please
Don’t pick my name…
from the hat
Good Lord…
Please…Just leave me alone!
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunday Morning
Sunday morning silence, curtain stay closed late
No one thinks of kitchens mornings in a filthy state
Dishes cups and beer stains, ashtrays on the floor
Sunday morning papers are left outside the front door
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
(sunday, bloody sunday rest)
Glass of fizzy water helps to start the day
Sit and listen to sunday silence, problems fade away
Sunday cars and drivers break the morning air
Uncollected milk outside reveals theres no one there
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
Bathrobes hang in waiting, windows steaming up
Somewhere in the sink downstairs lies an unwashed cup
Tea and toast for breakfast clear away the plates
Wash-up prepare for cooking sunday lunch awaits
Sunday lunch awaits
Sunday lunch awaits
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday Father
Hand in his hand though the park
All afternoon
A fine day to fly balloons or tell him a story
Hand in his hand to wonder
Till day is done
Sunday father and son
Sundays are theres to explore
Alone by law
One day to keep the two from turning to strangers
One day to know the answers
Be firm , be fun
Sunday father and son
The father weaves though the weekend streets
Sunday done, monday comin' on
He leaves the child by a modest home
That they share no more
With the woman who waits indoors
Till she knows he's gone
Where are the words or the games
A place to go
Someway to let him know you want to be with him
Somehow it's always ending
Just half begun
Sunday father and son
Sunday father and son
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Well, it was sunday, bloody sunday when the shot the people there.
The cries of thirteen martyrs filled the free derry air.
Is there anyone amongst you dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding when they nailed the coffin lids!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, you claim to be majority, well, you know that its a lie.
Youre really a minority on this sweet emerald isle.
When stormont bans our marches, theyve got a lot to learn,
Internment is no answer, its those mothers turn to burn.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey! yeah!
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
All you anglo pigs and scotties sent to colonise the north,
You wave your bloody union jacks and you know what its worth.
How dare you hold to ransom a people proud and free?
Keep ireland to the irish, put the english back to sea!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey, hey, hey!
Alright!
Ooh -
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, its always bloody sunday in the concentration camps.
Keep falls road free forever from the bloody british hands.
Repatriate to britain all of you who call it home,
Leave ireland to the irish not for london or for rome.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Well, it was sunday, bloody sunday when the shot the people there.
The cries of thirteen martyrs filled the free derry air.
Is there anyone amongst you dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding when they nailed the coffin lids!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, you claim to be majority, well, you know that its a lie.
Youre really a minority on this sweet emerald isle.
When stormont bans our marches, theyve got a lot to learn,
Internment is no answer, its those mothers turn to burn.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey! yeah!
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
All you anglo pigs and scotties sent to colonise the north,
You wave your bloody union jacks and you know what its worth.
How dare you hold to ransom a people proud and free?
Keep ireland to the irish, put the english back to sea!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey, hey, hey!
Alright!
Ooh -
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, its always bloody sunday in the concentration camps.
Keep falls road free forever from the bloody british hands.
Repatriate to britain all of you who call it home,
Leave ireland to the irish not for london or for rome.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday Papers
Mother doesnt go out any more
Just sits at home and rolls her spastic eyes
But every weekend through the door
Come words of wisdom from the world outside
If you want to know about the bishop and the actress
If you want to know how to be a star
If you want to know about the stains on the mattress
You can read it in the sunday papers, sunday papers
Mothers wheelchair stays out in the hall
Why should she go out when the tvs on
Whatever moves beyond these walls
Shell know the facts when sunday comes along
If you want to know about the man gone bonkers
If you want to know how to play guitar
If you want to know about the other suckers
You can read it in the sunday papers, read it in the sunday papers
Sunday papers dont ask no questions
Sunday papers dont get no lies
Sunday papers dont raise objection
Sunday papers dont got no eyes
Brothers heading that way now I guess
He just read something made his face turn blue
Well I got nothing against the press
They wouldnt print it if it wasnt true
If you want to know about the gay politician
If you want to know how to drive your car
If you want to know about the new sex position
You can read it in the sunday papers, read it in the sunday papers
Sunday papers dont ask no questions
Sunday papers dont get no lies
Sunday papers dont raise objection
Sunday papers dont got no eyes
Sunday papers dont ask no questions
Sunday papers dont get no lies
Sunday papers dont raise objection
Sunday papers dont got no eyes
Read all about it, sunday papers
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday Bloody Sunday
Well it was sunday bloody sunday
When they shot the people there
The cries of thirteen martyrs
Filled the free derry air
Is there any one amongst you
Dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding
When they nailed the coffin lids!
Sunday bloody sunday
Bloody sundays the day!
You claim to be majority
Well you know that its a lie
Youre really a minority
On this sweet emerald isle
When stormont bans our marches
Theyve got a lot to learn
Internment is no answer
Its those mothers turn to burn!
Sunday bloody sunday
Bloody sundays the day!
Sunday bloody sunday
Bloody sundays the day!
You anglo pigs and scotties
Sent to colonize the north
You wave your bloody union jack
And you know what its worth!
How dare you hold to ransom
A people proud and free
Keep ireland for the irish
Put the english back to sea!
Sunday bloody sunday
Bloody sundays the day!
Well, its always bloody sunday
In the concentration camps
Keep falls road free forever
From the bloody english hands
Repatriate to britain
All of you who call it home
Leave ireland to the irish
Not for london or for rome!
Sunday bloody sunday
Bloody sundays the day!
Sunday bloody sunday
Bloody sundays the day!
Sunday bloody sunday
Bloody sundays the day!
Sunday bloody sunday
Bloody sundays the day!
song performed by by Lennon John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bar Lights
The bar lights and the liquor
And the way all the bottles they shine
Well I got five more dollars, drink another
You'll feel fine
You'll feel fine
You'll feel fine
The bar lights and the women
The empty pool hall and you and I
Well I got five more dollars, drink another
You'll feel fine
You'll feel fine
You'll feel fine
Write your name down on a matchbook sleeve
Call me up on Sunday for a drink
Call me up on Sunday tell me anything
The bar lights and the liquor
The way all the bottles they shine
Well I've got five more dollars that wont make you mine
That won't make you mine
That won't make you mine
song performed by by Whiskeytown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bar Lights
The bar lights and the liquor
And the way all the bottles they shine
Well I got five more dollars, drink another
You'll feel fine
You'll feel fine
You'll feel fine
The bar lights and the women
The empty pool hall and you and I
Well I got five more dollars, drink another
You'll feel fine
You'll feel fine
You'll feel fine
Write your name down on a matchbook sleeve
Call me up on Sunday for a drink
Call me up on Sunday tell me anything
The bar lights and the liquor
The way all the bottles they shine
Well I've got five more dollars that wont make you mine
That won't make you mine
That won't make you mine
song performed by by Whiskeytown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mayor Giuliani at Eastertime
Easter Sunday 2005,
Rudy Giuliani was with his former wife.
His children were also there,
smell of turkey lingered in the air.
For it was Easter Sunday,
everyone was thankful with words of praise.
Posing for the camera’s with all smiles,
dressed in Easter clothes with lots of style.
Also photographing Donald and his wife,
she was carrying a new precious life.
Mya and Ron would stand by Donald’s side,
all posed for a photo to remember Eastertime.
Only a small print run would show this affair,
paper not distributed everywhere.
That’s o.k. the Shiny Sheet was there.
(May 23, 2011)
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jelly Roll
Oh yeah, yeah
Ain't that bad, ain't that black, ain't that fine, yeah
Ain't that bad, ain't that black and ain't that fine.
Sunday after meetings and Saturday with a man
Sweet potato pie when you eat from the pan
Ain't that bad, ain't that black and ain't that fine
Ain't that bad and ain't that black and ain't that fine.
Can you dig it?
Dancing the latest dance and eating ribs and tips
Digging all the new sounds and drinking gin in sips
Ain't that bad, ain't that black and ain't that fine, baby
Ain't that bad, ain't that black, ain't that fine
I could go for a ride on your sweet jelly roll
But I wouldn't give nothing for my juicy, juicy soul.
I could go for a ride on your sweet jelly roll
But I wouldn't give nothing for my juicy, juicy soul
Ain't that bad, ain't that black and ain't that fine
Ain't that bad and ain't that black and ain't that fine
Let's go, let's go, let's go.
To tie up my do right (?) and tighten up my 'fro
Wrapping myself in black and still I shine and glow
Ain't that bad, ain't that black and ain't that fine
Ain't that bad, ain't that black and ain't that fine.
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday Is The Saddest Day
Sunday is the saddest day
When were apart everything I say
Gets in the way, gets into place
Of how I feel standing face to face
Sunday is the saddest day
All you want
All you breathe
You wont need to find another
Tell me what is wrong
Tell me where we belong
And what we said
Tell me its only in my head
Show me whos to blame
Show me were the same
And where we go
Yeh show me something I dont know
Sunday is the saddest day
Dont give me legends, theyre far too late
Your sweet crusader he got away
I know thats hard to take
Sunday is the saddest day
You dont want
You dont need
Cause its hard to pull together
Tell me what is wrong
Tell me where we belong
And what we said
Tell me its only in my head
Show me whos to blame
Show me were the same
And where we go
Yeh show me something I dont know
Sunday is the saddest day
You pick apart everything I say
Sunday is the sadddest day
All you want
All you breathe
You wont need to find another
Tell me what is wrong
Tell me where we belong
And what we said
Tell me its only in my head
Show me whos to blame
Show me were the same
And where we go
Yeh show me something I dont know
Tell me what is wrong
Tell me where we belong
And what we said
Tell me its only in my head
Show me whos to blame
Show me were the same
And where we go
Yeh show me something I dont know
(sunday is the saddest day)
Yeh show me something I dont know
(sunday is the saddest day)
There must be something I dont know
(sunday is the saddest day)
(when were apart everything I say)
Dont tell me its only in my head
(sunday is the saddest day)
song performed by by Texas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pick It Up Or Be Gone
Pick it up or be gone.
What's given.
Pick it up or be gone.
What's there.
Pick it up or be gone.
The steak.
Or the rake.
Or the keys,
To open the gate!
Now...
Pick it up or be gone.
What's given.
Pick it up or be gone.
What's there.
Pick it up or be gone.
The steak.
Or the rake.
Or the keys,
To open the gate!
Now...
Don't try to imitate,
Homemade cake.
Oh no.
And don't ever try to duplicate,
A delicious taste.
Or...
Butter up faked mashed potatos.
Pick it up or be gone.
What's given.
Pick it up or be gone.
What's there.
Pick it up or be gone.
The steak.
Or the rake.
Or the keys,
To open the gate!
Now...
Pick it up or be gone.
Oooow.
Pick it up or be gone.
Yeah.
Pick it up or be gone.
Now...
Pick it up or be gone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On Any Other Day
You want something corny?
You got it
Theres a house on my street
And it looks real neat
Im the chap who lives in it
Theres a tree on the sidewalk
Theres a car by the door
Ill go for a drive in it
And when the wombat comes
He will find me gone
Hell look for a place to sit
My wife has burned the scrambled eggs
The dog just bit my leg
My teenage daughter ran away
My fine young son has turned out gay
Cut off my fingers in the
Door of my car
How could I do it?
My wife is proud to tell me
Of her love affairs
How could she do this to me?
My wife has burned the scrambled eggs
The dog just bit my leg
My teenage daughter ran away
My fine young son has turned out gay
And it would be ok on any other day
And it would be ok on any other day
Throw down the morning papers
And spill my tea
I dont know whats wrong with me
The cups and plates are in a
Conspiracy
Im covered in misery
My wife has burned the scrambled eggs
The dog just bit my leg
My teenage daughter ran away
My fine young son has turned out gay
And it would be ok on any other day
And it would be ok on any other day
And it would be ok on any other day
song performed by by Police
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brandy
There's a port on a western bay
And it serves a hundred ships a day
Lonely sailors pass the time away
And talk about their homes
And there's a girl in this harbor town
And she works layin' whiskey down
They say "Brandy, fetch another round"
She serves them whiskey and wine
The sailors say "Brandy, you're a fine girl" (you're a fine girl)
"What a good wife you would be" (such a fine girl)
"Yeah your eyes could steal a sailor from the sea"
(dooda-dit-dooda), (dit-dooda-dit-dooda-dit)
Brandy wears a braided chain
Made of finest silver from the North of Spain
A locket that bears the name
Of the man that Brandy loves
He came on a summer's day
Bringin' gifts from far away
But he made it clear he couldn't stay
No harbor was his home
The sailor said " Brandy, you're a fine girl" (you're a fine girl)
"What a good wife you would be" (such a fine girl)
"But my life, my lover, my lady is the sea"
(dooda-dit-dooda), (dit-dooda-dit-dooda-dit)
Yeah, Brandy used to watch his eyes
When he told his sailor stories
She could feel the ocean foam rise
She saw its ragin' glory
But he had always told the truth, lord, he was an honest man
And Brandy does her best to understand
(dooda-dit-dooda), (dit-dooda-dit-dooda-dit)
At night when the bars close down
Brandy walks through a silent town
And loves a man who's not around
She still can hear him say
She hears him say " Brandy, you're a fine girl" (you're a fine girl)
"What a good wife you would be" (such a fine girl)
"But my life, my lover, my lady is the sea"
(dooda-dit-dooda), (dit-dooda-dit-dooda-dit)
"Brandy, you're a fine girl" (you're a fine girl)
FADE
"What a good wife you would be" (such a fine girl)
"But my life, my lover, my lady is the sea
song performed by by Red Hot Chili Peppers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ain't It A Shame (Demo, 1989)
Ain't it a shame to go fishin on a Sunday
Ain't it a shame
Ain't it a shame to go fishin on a Sunday
When you got Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday
Oh, Thursday, Friday, Saturday
Ain't it a shame
Ain't it a shame to have a drink on Sunday
Ain't it a shame
Ain't it a shame to have a drink on Sunday
When you got Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday
Oh, Thursday, Friday, Saturday
Ain't it a shame
Ain't it a shame to beat your wife on Sunday
Ain't it a shame
Ain't it a shame to beat your wife on Sunday
When you got Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday
Oh, Thursday, Friday, Saturday
Ain't it a shame
Orginally By Leadbelly
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pick me
Oh my goodness gracious me!
I am an apple on a tree
I'm ripe and red and swinging free
all on a sunny Sunday.
Here I am just right for pickin'
and there you are all far away
dreaming of a fair young maiden
while I dangle and I sway.
Don't you hear me swaying gently?
Don't you smell my fine perfume?
Dare I call you, beg you pick me,
all on a sunny day in June.
Daffodils and honey suckle
Birdies singin' in the trees
I am but a little apple,
pretty apple in a tree.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Monster Man
Return to lands his father owns,
Pursue him as my food,
He is the son that presses bones
And is to catch but chewed.
I am a lonesome monster man
That can not see the life,
It is a highness that began
With highness of my wife.
On Sunday, cool is your belief
That women managed bane,
This wife is bad and must be chief
Of misery, again.
I eat of men and bones and flesh,
The opposite of good,
But does my wife keep fresh
Her meat at home - she would?
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pick Up The Change
If it's just your heart talking, I don't mind
If you wanna call me, darling that's just fine, that's just fine
But if it's your mind that's wandering, it'll fall in line
When I kiss your cheek, dear, everytime, everytime
We used to have a lotta things in common,
But you know now we're just the same
You always had more than I really wanted
Aw honey, help me,
Aw honey, help me pick up the change
If it's just your heart talking, I'll listen everytime
Dear, you can talk my ear off, anytime, anytime
But if my mind starts wandering, it won't be gone long
Whenever I hear your heart talking, it's a song, it's a song
We used to have a lotta things in common,
But you know now we're just the same
You always had more than I really wanted
Aw honey, help me,
Come on honey, help me pick up,
Aw honey, help me pick up the change
Aw honey, help me,
Come on honey, help me pick up,
Aw, honey, help me pick up the change
song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hypocrisy In Christianity
today is Sunday
the one day sunday christians
are off to church
these are the Christians
who are only Christian
one day Sunday a week
Christians for only one day?
one day sunday for a few hours?
sin of Hypocrisy in Christianity?
is one of the most detestable sins
it causes righteous worshippers to stumble
it takes the name of God in vain
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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