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Digging Real Deep
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch or a feel of return.
And a lesson's not learned,
That...
A deposit made to dip,
For tasty lips...
Took too many dips,
To withdrawn the end of it.
And there will be no return...
You put that last deposit in your pocket,
And then you split...
With it.
You put that last deposit in your pocket,
And then you split...
With it.
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch or a feel of return.
And a lesson's not learned,
That...
A deposit made to dip,
For tasty lips...
Took too many dips,
To withdrawn the end of it.
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch of return,
IS...
Digging real deep.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch of return,
IS...
Digging real deep
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep.
In empty pockets.
Dig!
Digging real deep,
In empty pockets...
For a touch of return,
Long ago had been burned.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Give Me That Loot
Give me that loot that you get.
The kind that fills up pockets.
The kind that makes one rich...
And can pay for all my habits.
And...
Give me that loot that you get.
The kind that fills up pockets.
The kind that makes one rich...
And can pay for all my habits.
These times I forsake steak.
And potatoes made to taste.
With gravy and glazed onions I would love.
These times I forsake cake...
Yellow, pound or chocolate made.
But I dream of having brownies...
With some lemonaide.
Give me that loot that you get.
The kind that fills up pockets.
The kind that makes one rich...
And can pay for all my habits.
Give me that loot that you get.
The kind that fills up pockets.
The kind that makes one rich...
And can pay for all my habits.
I've tightened up my loosened belt...
Not to miss a single loop.
I think of having juice or cool-aid...
But a bowl of noodle soup will do!
These times I forsake steak.
And potatoes made to taste.
With gravy and glazed onions I would love.
These times I forsake cake...
Yellow, pound or chocolate made.
But I dream of having brownies...
With some lemonaide would just be great!
Give me that.
Give me that.
Give me that.
Give me that.
Give me that loot that you get.
The kind that fills up pockets.
The kind that makes one rich...
And can pay for all my habits.
Give me that loot that you get.
The kind that fills up pockets.
The kind that makes one rich...
And can pay for all my habits.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If It Was About A Lot Of Money
If it was about a lot of money...
My mind would be,
Trimmed in dollar bills.
With-my-thoughts-on a million of them,
And a caring less of my fellowman.
And if it was about a lot of money...
I'd ignore,
Every two cents made.
By anybody wanting to deliver to me,
Any consciousness attached to common sense.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money...
I wouldn't be concerned about the suffering seen.
And if it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
And if it was about a lot of money...
My eyes wouldn't cry when I see these scenes.
If it was about a lot of money...
My mind would be,
Trimmed in dollar bills.
With-my-thoughts-on a million of them,
And a caring less of my fellowman.
If it was about a lot of money...
I'd ignore,
Every two cents made.
By anybody wanting to deliver to me,
Any consciousness to instigate.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money...
I wouldn't be concerned about the suffering seen.
I'd fill my pockets and get away!
If it was about a lot of money.
I'd fill my pockets each and everyday.
If it was about a lot of money.
I'd fill my pockets and get away!
If it was about a lot of money.
I'd fill my pockets up and run the other way.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
And if it was about a lot of money...
There wouldn't be a single word I would say.
I wouldn't have concerns or feel this way.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It is not helpful to help a friend by putting coins in his pockets when he has got holes in his pockets.
quote by Douglas Hurd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Charity Begins At Home
A shake of the tin
The money drops in, but is it a sin
Youre standing in rags
Youre selling your flags
But who gets the dough at the end of the day
We saw your drop-dead fancy wheels
Your little house up on the hill
But when your conscience pricks
A little sacrifice sweetens the pill
So keep your hands in your pockets
Charity begins at home
Keep your hands in your pockets
Charity wont leave you alone
We take to the stage
The audience rave, were doing our bit
A heavenly cast, a blast from the past
Theres a song to be sung, will it make number one
We wanna see your money roll
But our eyes are on the hall of fame
'cos business is business
And hits are the name of the game
So keep your hands in your pockets
Charity begins at home
Keep your hands in your pockets
Charity wont leave you alone
Everywhere that we turn
There are mouths to be fed
How can we sleep
The battle goes on while were
Safe in our beds
So dont turn away
No dont turn away
Your doors are locked
You switch on the box to take in a show
You think that youre safe
But here comes that face
And wouldnt you know its that message again
They want to take your plastic cash
Your hand reaches out to the phone
Keep your hands in your pockets
Charity begins at home
Keep your hands in your pockets
Charity begins at home
Keep your hands in your pockets
Charity wont leave you alone
Everywhere that we turn
There are mouths to be fed
How can we sleep
The battle goes on while were
Safe in our beds
So dont turn away
No dont turn away
Keep your hands in your pockets
Charity begins at home
Keep your hands in your pockets
Charity wont leave you alone
(repeat 5x)
song performed by by 10 Cc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We say that anytime budgets are balanced and an ample savings account has been set aside, government should just stop collecting taxes. Better to leave that money in the pockets of those who earned it, than to let it burn a hole, as it always does, in the pockets of government.
quote by Mitch Daniels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet- The Mystery Of God And Creation
What mystery shrouds the creation of God?
How mysterious is the Almighty One?
Did man evolve or was he made by Lord?
How can man call as God the Moon or Sun?
What harmony pervades the Universe?
What destiny awaits man on this earth?
Are sufferings, the Almighty One's curse?
Why God has made men of unequal girth?
How long ago, the Universe exists?
Why did God make one earth and many stars?
Despite their weakness, how men show their fists?
When Nature destroys, so does man- made wars.
And yet, God proves His love for human race;
And when man sins, God shows His angry face!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life And How To Live It
Burn bright through the night two pockets lead the way
Two doors to go between the wall was raised today
Two doors remain before your others and your own
Keep these books well stocked away and take your happy home
My carpenter's out and running about talking to the street
My pockets are out and running about
Barking in the street to tell what I have hidden there
Burn bright through the night, two pockets lead the way
Two doors to go between the wall was raised today
Raise the walls and shout its flaws, a carpenter should rest
So that when you tire of one side the other serves you best
My carpenter's out and running about, talking to the street
My pockets are out and running about
Barking in the street to tell what I have hidden there
The hills ringing hear the words in time
Listen to the holler, listen to my walls within my tongue
Can't you see you made my ears go tin?
the air quicken tension building inference suddenly
Life and how to live it
Raise the walls and shout its flaws, a carpenter should rest
So that when you tire of one side the other serves you best
Read about the wisdom lost, a knock, a knock, a knock
A secret knock one hammer's locked the other wisdom lost
My carpenter's out and running about, talking to the street
My pockets are out and running about
Barking in the street to tell what I have hidden there
My carpenter's out and running about, barking in the, listen to the holler
My pockets are out and running about
Barking in the street to tell what I have hidden there
Listen, listen to the holler,
If I write a book it will be called "Life and How to Live It
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There are pockets of great food in Spain, but there are also pockets of very mediocre food in Spain, and the same in Morocco and the same in Croatia and the same in Germany and the same in Austria.
quote by Mario Batali
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life & How To Live It
Burn bright through the night, two pockets lead the way
To doors to go between the wall was raised today
To doors remain before your others and your own
Keep these books well stocked away and take your happy home
My carpenters out and running about, talking to the street
My pockets are out and running about
Barking in the street to tell what I have hidden there
Burn bright through the night, two pockets lead the way
Two doors to go between the wall was raised today
Raise the walls and shout its flaws, a carpenter should rest
So that when you tire of one side the other serves you best
My carpenters out and running about, talking to the street
My pockets are out and running about
Barking in the street to tell what I have hidden there
The hills ringing hear the words in time
Listen to the holler, listen to my walls within my tongue
Cant you see you made my ears go tin?
The air quicken tension building inference suddenly
Life and how to live it
Raise the walls and shout its flaws, a carpenter should rest
So that when you tire of one side the other serves you best
Read about the wisdom lost, a knock, a knock, a knock
A secret knock one hammers locked the other wisdom lost
My carpenters out and running about, talking to the street
My pockets are out and running about
Barking in the street to tell what I have hidden there
My carpenters out and running about, barking in the, listen to the holler
My pockets are out and running about
Barking in the street to tell what I have hidden there
Listen, listen to the holler,
If I write a book it will be called life and how to live it
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christmas Rock
My billfold doesn't have a prayer
There's Christmas catalogs everywhere
She keeps looking at the jewelry section
Cutting pictures out of her selections
I said we need to hold it down this year
And in her eye she got a big ol' tear
She wants a Christmas rock
But Santa's pockets ain't got no roll
She don't want pots and pans
Just something shinin' on her hand
With an emerald or a diamond on it
I had a budget but she's gone and blown it
Down to the jewelry store, here I go
Hear the clerk say, ho, ho, ho
She wants a Christmas rock
But Santa's pockets ain't got no roll
She don't want anything from sears
No tools or garden shears
There's something special on her mind
And I can't even afford the shine
I wish she'd settled for a long nightshirt
No, I've got to give till it hurts
She wants a Christmas rock
But Santa's pockets ain't got no roll
She don't want pots and pans
Just something shinin' on her hand
With an emerald or a diamond on it
I had a budget but she's gone and blown it
Down to the jewelry store, here I go
Hear the clerk say, ho, ho, ho
She wants a Christmas rock
But Santa's pockets ain't got no roll
She wants a Christmas rock
But ol' Santa's pockets ain't got no roll
song performed by by Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Before A Gripping Hand Can Affix To It
I was told as a child,
That money did not grow on trees.
And as soon as I accepted the concept,
Of earning it...
I don't have it in my pockets long enough,
To get familiar with its presence.
If someone was to attempt to pick my pockets,
I am sure they would ask for tips...
As to how I have managed to survive,
On a fixed income...
That comes to go before I am aware of it.
And I appear as if i am the 'king' of abundance.
It's like this...
If something comes to go,
Before a gripping hand can affix to it to identify...
It becomes like a memory embellished.
And as time moves on to go by,
That which is embellished becomes one's reality.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Hear Voices
I feel the pressure
Pushing down on me
Cant face the world
Cant change the things I see
I got my hands in my pockets
Staring at the walls
Can nobody help me
To escape from it all
I hear voices in my head
They taunt me
Cant lock them out
Inside my thoughts
They breathe in me
I got my hands in my pockets
Screaming at the walls
Can nobody help me
To escape from it all
Ive got to run to be free
Break the chains round my heart
Take away the pain and the joy
Release the man from the boy
Run to be free, run from the heart
Life will take you where it goes
You can offer me salvation
Feed me when I call
Dont talk to me of sanity
When Im not quite here at all
Ive touched the sun
I felt its warmth in me
So you will never take away my dignity
Cause Ive got my hands in my pockets
Fighting for my cause
Can nobody help me
To escape from it all
Run to be free
Break the chains round my heart
Life will take you where it goes
Run to be free
Run from the heart
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Munition Maker
I am the Cannon King, behold!
I perish on a throne of gold.
With forest far and turret high,
Renowned and rajah-rich am I.
My father was, and his before,
With wealth we owe to war on war;
But let no potentate be proud . . .
There are no pockets in a shroud.
By nature I am mild and kind,
To gentleness and ruth inclined;
And though the pheasants over-run
My woods I will not touch a gun.
Yet while each monster that I forge
Thunders destruction form its gorge.
Death's whisper is, I vow, more loud . . .
There are no pockets in a shroud.
My time is short, my ships at sea
Already seem like ghosts to me;
My millions mock me I am poor
As any beggar at my door.
My vast dominion I resign,
Six feet of earth to claim is mine,
Brooding with shoulders bitter-bowed . . .
There are no pockets in a shroud.
Dear God, let me purge my heart,
And be of heaven's hope a part!
Flinging my fortune's foul increase
To fight for pity, love and peace.
Oh that I could with healing fare,
And pledged to poverty and prayer
Cry high above the cringing crowd:
"Ye fools! Be not Mammon cowed . . .
There are no pockets in a shroud."
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shrouded In Mystery
The morning sun, clothed in clouds, is one of God’s striking shrouds,
Just as God’s shrouded in light, impenetrable by the darkest of night,
Unapproachable as He may be, He’s God of the present and Eternity,
Being a God, that we cannot see, He shrouds life, at times in mystery.
At times God moves in our days, for His purpose in mysterious ways,
For God’s shrouded in mystery, while working in lives, of you and me,
As the secret tings belong to God, Who reigns above this earthly sod,
In ways, we could not comprehend, for above us, His ways transcend.
But all things done for me and you, the Good Lord will see us through,
Through every trial that we will face, God will shroud us with His Grace,
And blessings The Lord will bestow, upon us in ways we’d never know,
As The Lord works in mysterious ways, unto our Lord, we lift all praise.
For we are shrouded in the Blood, of God’s Son, sent for us with love.
Sent to The Cross of Mount Calvary, to be a sacrifice, for you and me,
And today that blood, spilt by Him, covers not some, but all of our sin,
For The Savior alone paid the price, so we could be His living sacrifice.
Christ came to earth, to die for us, now we live our life for Christ Jesus,
To serve our Lord in this present time, for a purpose that is truly divine,
And Christ shall remove many shrouds, when we see Him in the clouds,
When Christ returns for you and me, we’ll serve our Lord, for all eternity.
(Copyright ©06/2011)
Money is always there but the pockets change; it is not in the same pockets after a change, and that is all there is to say about money.
quote by Gertrude Stein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flashback Blues
While window shopping through the past
I ran across a looking glass
Reflecting moments remaining in a burned out light
Tragic magic prayers of passion
Stay the same through changing fashions
They freeze my mind like water on a winters night
Spent most of my youth
Out hobo cruising
And all I got for proof
Is rocks in my pockets and dirt in my shoes
So goodbye nonbeliever
Dont you know that I hate to leave here
So long babe, I got the flashback blues.
Photographs show the laughs
Recorded in between the bad times
Happy sailors dancing on a sinking ship
Cloudy skies and dead fruit flies
Waving goodbye with tears in my eyes
Well, sure I made it but ya know it was as hell of a trip.
Spent most of my youth
Out hobo cruising
And all I got for proof
Is rocks in my pockets and dirt in my shoes
And ten times what it grieves you
Thats how much more I hate to leave you now
So long babe, I got the flashback blues.
Spent most of my youth
Out hobo cruising
And all I got for proof
Is rocks in my pockets and dirt in my shoes
So goodbye nonbeliever
Dont you know that I hate to leave here
So long babe, I got the flashback blues.
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Coming Up
our father who art in a penthouse
sits in his 37th floor suite
and swivels to gaze down
at the city he made me in
he allows me to stand and
sollicit graffiti until
he needs the land I stand on
I in my darkened threshold
am pawing through my pockets
the receipts
song performed by by Ani DiFranco from Imperfectly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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