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The wine given to your workmen is that for which you get the best paid.
102
First one paid nine
then, two paid eight
then three paid seven
then, four paid six
then five paid five
then six paid four
then seven paid three
then eight paid two
and finally, nine paid one,
wee, wee, wee, wee, wee
all the way home.
poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don't judge by adulation.
Paid news, paid degrees, paid titles,
Paid awards, paid felicitations
And the strategic moves count.
The bought judgment culminates all..
09.08.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Million Young Work Men
A million young workmen straight and strong lay stiff on the grass and roads,
And the million are now under soil and their rottening flesh will in the years feed roots of blood-red roses.
Yes, this million of young workmen slaughtered one another and never saw their red hands.
And oh, it would have been a great job of killing and a new and beautiful thing under the sun if the million knew why they hacked and tore each other to death.
The kings are grinning, the Kaiser and the czar—they are alive riding in leather-seated motor cars, and they have their women and roses for ease, and they eat fresh-poached eggs for breakfast, new butter on toast, sitting in tall water-tight houses reading the news of war.
I dreamed a million ghosts of the young workmen rose in their shirts all soaked in crimson … and yelled:
God damn the grinning kings, God damn the kaiser and the czar.
poem by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Paid The Price
See notes below
Well Im sick and tired
Of your alibis,
And your indiscreet lies
Just wont get you by,
Over and over and over and over again.
And your family,
Your forced superiority,
Your azure delusions of grandeur,
Are gonna cut you free,
Over and over and over and over again.
Youre as cold as ice.
Ahh, youre not miss nice,
And I paid the price.
Ahh, you can count me out.
Oh, without a doubt,
I paid the price.
And up and down, round, round you go,
But you know one monkey
Dont stop no show.
Its plain to see
Youre in need of help,
But I just cant go on
And whip myself
Over and over and over, over again.
Ahh, you can count me out.
Ahh, without a doubt,
You know, I paid the price.
Ahh, youre not miss nice.
Youre as cold as ice,
And I paid the price.
Yes I did.
You know I did.
And I just wanna know
Whos your sponsor.
I just wanna know, oh,
I just a-wanna know, oh,
I just a-wanna know, oh,
Whos your angel.
{backup singers} [i paid the price.]
Sing the song.
[i paid the price.]
[i paid the price.]
[i paid the price.]
And dont discriminate your angel.
[i paid the price.]
And dont discriminate your sponsor.
[i paid the price.]
And be good to your angel.
[i paid the price.]
Bow down to your angel.
[i paid the price.]
Hey, hey!!
[i paid the price.]
Dont discriminate your angel.
[i paid the price.]
And dont discriminate your angel.
[i paid the price.]
Dont discriminate your angel.
[i paid the price.]
Dont discriminate your sponsor.
[i paid the price.]
Bow down to your angel.
[i paid the price.]
Bow down to your angel.
[i paid the price.]
Bow down to your angel.
[i paid the price.]
Uhh, be good!
[i paid the price.]
Be good to your angel.
[i paid the price.]
I tried for to blow it. (? ? )
[i paid the price.]
I tried for to blow it (? ? ), one more time.
[i paid the price.]
I tried for to blow it (? ? ), one more time.
[i paid the price.]
If you blow it one more time, I say,
[i paid the price.]
Oh, youre as
Cold as ice,
And youre not miss nice,
And Ive definitely
Paid the price.
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Open Arms
If love is what you want
Baby here I am
If tenderness is what you need
Ive got that to give
If you need some affection
Baby these are open arms
Open arms open arms open arms open arms
You come hem youve had a hard day
Every door you tried to open
Was closing in your face
Im right here Ill be right here
Ill embrace you
Ill be open with my heart
Ill let you in
Ill be open with my thoughts
Ill be your best friend
If you need some attention
Baby these are open arms
Open arms open arms open arms open arms
Every corner you turn
Trouble come your way
But when you get home
Ill try to be there
And Ill embrace you
These are
These are
These are
Open arms
If time is what you need
Baby Ill stop the clocks
If youre looking for something
Maybe Ive got what you want
If theres one thing to remember
Dont forget that these are open arms
Open arms open arms open arms open arms
These are
These are
These are
Open arms
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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These Arms
those arms
that know and are able
those arms
that are able and do
those arms
that do enwrap this torso
those arms
belong to you
these arms
that seek and reach out
these arms
that reach out and do
these arms
that do wrap those arms:
the shadowy imprint of
what belonged to you.
'
poem by Frederick Kesner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Deviant Ways
How can you say you hate me with a passion,
And then become compassionately submissive...
With a hunger for me to feed.
What is it about me you despise publicly,
In other's eyes?
Yet privately delight to sweat,
In my arms under 'my' sheets.
With a begging of me not to let you go?
And you wish others to believe this...
To keep me from them distanced?
You wish me your private 'piece'?
But discreetly you seek,
From ME loyalty?
For FREE?
In this economy?
I'm going to cut you off until I am paid!
If that's the way it is going to be.
If it means that much to your 'dignity'!
If that's the way it is going to be.
If it means that much to your 'dignity'!
In this economy?
I'm going to cut you off until I am paid!
Why should I tolerate that nonsense,
These days.
I am not your secret trash to used,
To scratch your rash.
So you can hit it and dash as you please.
Since you want to continue to give me 'shade' in public.
And expect me to keep silent about your 'kinkiness'.
There is going to be mutual dividends to this.
If that's the way it is going to be.
If it means that much to your 'dignity'!
In this economy?
I'm going to cut you off until I am 'paid'!
A 'P' with lots of 'AID'!
If you are expecting me to protect,
Your deviant ways.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bobby's Arms
(Dolly Parton)
Bobby's arms, they are warm when he holds me
Bobby's arms always comfort and console me
When I'm in his arms held tight
I know everything's alright
Just as long as I'm inside bobby's arms
Chorus:
Bobby's arms always welcome me inside
Bobby's arms always hold me when I cry
Bobby's arms are my shelter from life's storms
And I feel so safe in Bobby's arms
Bobby's arms, they are strong but they're tender
Bobby's arms reach for me and I surrender
When he reaches out for me, I'm never out of reach
And I always want to be in Bobby's arms
Repeat Chorus
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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By the work one knows the workmen.
quote by Jean De La Fontaine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where there are too many workmen, there is little work.
In Your Arms
(words & music by aaron schroeder - wally gold)
Oh, the way I feel tonight
You better wrap me up good and tight
In your arms
In your arms
Just like a bee in a honeycomb
Im gonna make myself right at home
In your arms
In your arms
Well, it dont take much to keep me satisfied
Just a little bit of lovin thats bonafide
In your arms keep me tangled up all the time
Like a kitten with a ball of twine
Yeah baby, thats where I want to stay
For the rest of my natural days
In your arms
In your arms
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At the end of the work you may judge of the workmen.
Vacuous Space
Space in the head,
Once getting PAID to lead.
Vacuous meetssssspace in the head,
Once getting PAID to lead.
Vacuous meetssssspace in the head,
Once getting PAID to lead.
And the winners,
Had been the merchants...
Breathing royalty,
On 5th Avenue!
Vacuous meetssssspace in the head,
Once getting PAID to lead.
Vacuous meetssssspace in the head,
Once getting PAID to lead.
And the bleeding of the people....
Had been seen from their limousines!
Vacuous meetssssspace in the head,
Once getting PAID to lead.
Vacuous meetssssspace in the head,
Once getting PAID to lead.
And It's an off beat situation,
To see the homeless
Pushing carts...
Up on these scenes!
Space in the head,
Once getting PAID to lead.
Vacuous space...
In the head,
Once getting paid to lead!
And the trickling of this meanness...
Is a payback for those,
Who had chose to steal
Away sweet dreams!
Vacuous meetssssspace in the head,
Once getting PAID to lead!
It's an off beat situation
Getting fixed...
As the kings are dragged
Screaming
With tainted hands
Bitten and bloodied
By those they chose
To live in tattered clothes
Hungry and suffering
Squeezed from the cream
That was theirs all the time
By such crooked deeds!
Space in the head,
Once getting PAID to lead.
Vacuous space...
In the head,
Once getting paid to lead!
And the winners,
Now are the losers
Once the merchants...
Living to scheme,
And breathing royalty,
Like leeches!
On 5th Avenue.
And the winners?
Now are the losers...
Picked by people,
Just as greedy
As the ones they knew!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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God buries His workmen but carries on His work.
quote by Charles Wesley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Not to watch your workmen is to lose your money.
Collector
The collector
I was a collector of paper napkins, every day I used to go around
picking them up, they were usually smeared with human saliva
and scum fat of cheap food. I had twenty bags full in my garage,
I stored them there since I have no car but like to mention that
I have a garage. One morning when I entered to pick up the stick,
with a nail in the end, the one I picked napkins with, the sacks
had turned in to tired workmen resting after slaving long hours
in the factory of hell. I opened the garage door they were free to
go and I saw them vanishing into the morning glare. They had
done their duty no more was excepted of them. From now on
till rain came they were be free, dance with dust and leave and
disappear on their own accord when time was right... My garage
is empty now but the smell of sweat and struggle lingers with old
jokes repeated a hundred times in workmen’s canteen
poem by Oskar Hansen
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He who has money to throw away, let him employ workmen, and not stand by.