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Lame Game
It's all the same,
When a game is played lame!
It's all the same...
A lame game!
It's all the same,
When a game is played lame!
And the game
Being played...
Is so lame!
It's all the same,
When a game is played lame!
It's all the same.
A lame game!
It's all the same,
When a game is played lame,
And the game being played
By the players who play...
Is so tired and lame anyway!
And lame it will stay everyday!
'Cause they 'got no' shame
To play such tired games
Knowing it's all the same,
When a game is played lame!
And the game stays the same
'Cause no one wants to change
From a game that is lame..
And each day that lame game,
Stays the same!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Football Frenzy
Football is a contact sport;
In short—a “rough” game.
It may leave you dancing,
Or it could leave you lame.
Armed with helmets, jerseys
And spandex tights—
All tough dudes,
Ready for the fight.
Digging in with spiked shoes,
And war paint on their face.
Staring down the adversary—
No mercy and no grace.
Tackles, hits and yard runs.
The scoring of “touchdowns, ”
With each team striving
For the coveted crown.
Whether dancing, banged or lame—
‘Tis the nature of the game.
And that’s okay with football fans,
They love it just the same.
poem by Walterrean Salley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pain runs through my body
Pain runs through my body, and I don't need anymore.
Pain runs through my body, so leave me alone you whore.
Pain runs through my blood, as I start to bleed.
Pain runs through my body, and love is what I need.
Pain runs through my body, everyday of my life.
Pain runs through my body, as I pick up the knife.
Pain runs through my body, as I put it through my chest.
Pain runs through my body and I think you know the rest.
poem by Ari Castillo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A lame of heart is not a lame of leg; he cannot be recognized.
The Lame love
Venus you are; Mars I am not.
Juliet you are; Romeo I am not.
Yet for you my thirst is little not
Whether I deserve you or not,
For honey, up from a comb,
Can taste as much to a lame
As to one who can climb,
The lame being not to blame.
03.04.97
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lame
Then they came on me
They dragged me from the bar
Still wet from sweat and beer
I bruise so prettily by men blinded by their fear
These men
Broke my back and made me lame
Then she said to me
Id give you everything to make it like before
To make you love me like you used to
Make you love me more
She said to me
Your life is large but your mind is lame
I cant believe my eyes
When I see the truth and all the things Ive done
And every place Im queer
I never stay I run
I know now why I live in shame
Lame...
Its hard to sleep at night
I hardly ever sleep at night
song performed by by Everclear
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Too Slow In A Fast Lane
He who plays a lame game,
Stays the same
With nothing changed.
Remaining lame.
Too slow in a fast lane!
Showing immaturity...
With insecurity being the same.
That's nothing new...
So many like you,
Are caught up into themselves!
Unyielding and unbearable,
And that's a shame and nothing else!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Weak Or Strong?
Never before in this life
Do we extend our greetings
To the infirm and lame.
The souls align to the mages
And the mages corner the priests,
We all pray for our flesh
To be consumed by precious light.
Never before in this life
Do we extend our greetings
To the infirm and lame.
The magic of amusements
Is amusement, so that we deserve
The flesh of a career or river,
One can swim in it forever
If the fins carry us further.
We are not selfish or busy
In our endeavours
Until the life dissolves
As though life has been
A mortuary for the strong, the weak
Or the lame.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Name That Runs
Underneath the sea stands a river of silk and milk that runs,
Opening thoughts of you, the dispute of a month that runs.
I have a maze of worries that tortures the depths of the mind,
Offering me a solution shall be the ocean that is the millionth that runs.
One person is one antagonist, the anatomy of whom excretes blood,
Fetching horrible nightmares like those heroes of the labyrinth that runs.
Let the heavens be attached to the barbarians and soldiers,
One masters them as a battle that rages on as the zillionth that runs.
One will escape the rigours of youth to face a war on the frontline,
Battle systems need generals and wizards of the heavens, the seventh that runs.
I have my name engraved like a stone of weight, the grave so morbid,
One masters my writing as if the relics are as morbid as the trillionth that runs.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Inside Your Head
It's so hard to keep and stay,
Inside your head.
Any wisdom from you runs...
Run, run, runs.
With a running done that comes,
Run, run, runs.
With a running done that comes,
Run, run, runs.
When you open your mouth,
Out it comes...
Something ignorant is done,
Really dumb, dumb.
Something ignorant is done,
Really dumb, dumb.
And you might think your responses are cute.
When you choose something abusive,
To say that's aloof.
And you might think your responses are cute.
When you choose abusive uses,
To say that are loose.
But,
Any wisdom from you runs...
Run, run, runs.
With a running that is done,
Runs, run, run..
With a running that is done,
Run, runs, run.
It's so hard to keep and stay...
Inside your head.
When you open your mouth,
Any face will turn red.
'Cause,
Any wisdom from you runs...
Run, run, runs.
With a running that is done,
Runs, run, run..
With a running that is done,
Run, runs, run.
Any wisdom from you runs.
Run, run, runs.
It's so hard to keep and stay...
Inside your head.
It's so hard to keep and stay...
A wisdom chased away.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sad Sadducees
The Sadducees
were sad you see.
They did not like what Peter said
that Jesus had risen from the dead.
But the lame man walked
and the people talked.
For by the risen power of Jesus' name
The man was healed and no longer lame.
Piety Is Hard
A pious man brings a gift for the lame one,
It is a rosary with thousands of beads;
His tortures do never seize him,
For he prays so acceptably in the eyes of His Lord.
Guide him, the lame one needs guidance
For he is a sick person with absolute health
In the body and mind as well.
He bleeds tonight from your inflicted wound
As he became a thief of the night.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Karma
I drop a stone into the ocean
Every choice another turn of the screw
Another wheel set in motion
With every single thing I do
Its there in the air that I breathe
Its in my whisper and scream
Inside everything I believe
And its all gonna come around someday
As the smallest stream runs to a river
And every river runs to the sea
So every little bit of love I give to another
You know that I believe it comes back to me
There is no absolution whether Im the garden or the rose
If I aint part of the solution, yeah you know how that goes
You can always leave but you bring it all back home someday
As the smallest stream runs to a river
And every river runs to the sea
So every little bit of love I give to another
You know that I believe it comes back to me
Every single thing I say, everyone that I betray
Any love that I take when I do not make it in return
Every thing I do and every time Ive been unfaithful too
All the things that I believe are lessons I must learn
As the smallest stream runs to a river
And every river runs to the sea
So every little bit of love I give to another
You know that I believe it comes back to me
As the smallest stream runs to a river
And every river runs to the sea
So every little bit of love I give to another
You know that I believe it comes back to me
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pejar Creek
Deep in the meadow grass
Easy stand the cattle,
Lightly lock the young bulls
In a mimic battle,
Pride gathers with each shock,
Every break and rally -
That’s where the Pejar runs,
Runs like a slip of silver through the valley.
Softly as a thrush sings
In the morning hushes,
Softly sing the waters
Round the reedy rushes,
Softly at the sand-bar,
Softly at the sally -
That’s where the Pejar runs,
Runs like a slip of silver through the valley.
Where awakes the morning
To dapple all the hills,
Where dewdrop, shaken,
Pendant slides and spills,
Where the golden bugles
Sunset calls reveille -
That’s where the Pejar runs,
Runs like a slip of silver through the valley.
Where the springtime blossoms
Like a mellow laughter,
Over all the grasses,
Over ridge and rafter,
Over all the tree-tops,
Down each ferny valley -
That’s where the Pejar runs,
Runs like a slip of silver through the valley.
Where the Pejar rises
Springs the Wollondilly,
Twinned upon the mountains
Babbling brook and ghyllie;
Where the bridge-heads rumble
Side by side they dally -
Out where the Pejar runs,
Runs like a slip of silver through the valley.
poem by Dame Mary Gilmore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When The Money Runs Out/Another Poem Will Not Save Me
When the money runs out
Another poem will not save me-
When the money runs out
The poems will be a bit less poetic-
They will seem more meaningless-
All the years of writing them
Will seem more a waste and an indulgence-
When the money runs out
And I am working or trying to work
For not enough money
And guilty at being in debt
And frightened at not being able to pay on time
The poems will seem another kind of thing entirely
And I will wonder how I could have once given so much time to something
That does not make a cent-
When the money runs out
The poetry may run out with it
I will be the slave of small sums
And have lost my time and dedication
To what I have loved most.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Becoming Rich
May winning be absurd to the lame,
A limp has beaten the way so often;
The paths too trodden are the fair,
Bent on land, the legs have trekked.
Treacherous and trembling, the ways
Offer deceit and conception of ideas.
The treasury is about on its legs,
Money has been lame and lined here.
The mill of money is conjuring wealth
So best, blasting me with an odour of riches.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am Of Ireland
'I am of Ireland,
And the Holy Land of Ireland,
And time runs on,' cried she.
'Come out of charity,
Come dance with me in Ireland.'
One man, one man alone
In that outlandish gear,
One solitary man
Of all that rambled there
Had turned his stately head.
That is a long way off,
And time runs on,' he said,
'And the night grows rough.'
'I am of Ireland,
And the Holy Land of Ireland,
And time runs on,' cried she.
'Come out of charity
And dance with me in Ireland.'
'The fiddlers are all thumbs,
Or the fiddle-string accursed,
The drums and the kettledrums
And the trumpets all are burst,
And the trombone,' cried he,
'The trumpet and trombone,'
And cocked a malicious eye,
'But time runs on, runs on.'
I am of Ireland,
And the Holy Land of Ireland,
And time runs on,' cried she.
"Come out of charity
And dance with me in Ireland.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Alcide
Walking with Jesus the slow,
behind the beat. Mr. Resistance.
Mr. Ohm, Mr. Exactly Lame.
By some reluctance, some
restraint, if it be a restraint,
by some undertow and stutter,
the halt and lame can strut.
You can hear it yourself. Buy
a few records and think how big
a bass is to a small boy,
his fingers bleeding to grow deft.
Bandages are for amateurs
and they blur the tone, that habit
a bassist and his bass conspire,
the way a couple learns a stride
though the man's taller by a foot.
poem by William Matthews
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Purple Toupee
I remember the year I went to camp
I heard about some lady named selma and some blacks
Somebody put their fingers in the presidents ears
It wasnt too much later they came out with johnsons wax
I remember the book depository where they crowned the king of cuba
Now thats all I can think of, but Im sure theres something else
Way down inside me I can feel it coming back
Purple toupee will show the way when summer brings you down
(purple toupee when summer brings you down)
Purple toupee and gold lame will turn your brain around
(purple toupee and gold lame)
Chinese people were fighting in the park
We tried to help them fight, no one appreciated that
Martin x was mad when they outlawed bell bottoms
Ten years later they were sharing the same cell
I shouted out, free the expo 67
Till they stepped on my hair, and they told me I was fat
Now Im very big, Im a big important man
And the only thing thats different is underneath my hat
Purple toupee will show the way when summer brings you down
(purple toupee when summer brings you down)
Purple toupee and gold lame will turn your brain around
(purple toupee and gold lame)
Purple toupee is here to stay after the hair has gone away
The purple brigade is marching from the grave
Were on some kind of mission
We have an obligation
We have to wear toupees
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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