Related quotes
The woman in finery, the house in filth, but the doorway swept.
Fountain Of Filth
There it was
Just like old faithful
The eternal fountain of filthi
I took a walk straight out of town
But then I stopped and took my time for pleasure
I was alone, I looked around
I heard a voice 50 I buckled for safety
And there it was down on the ground
A pool of sound that showed my own reflection
In a fountain of filth
Eternal fountain of filth
I tried to run I couldnt move
Frozen solid while the thoughts of men
Attacked me
Out of my head the fountain shot
And drowned me in a serum that I couldnt
Put a stop to
It was me myself and I locked in a struggle
With the talking head below me
In a fountain of filth
Eternal fountain of filth
I got a hunger that makes me say things
I got a hunger that makes me do things
I got a hunger that makes me want things
Im just a victim of filth
Nowhere are we safe
From the power of
From the reach of
From the appeal of
The eternal fountain of filth
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
There's No To-Morrow
Two long had Lov'd, and now the Nymph desir'd,
The Cloak of Wedlock, as the Case requir'd;
Urg'd that, the Day he wrought her to this Sorrow,
He Vow'd, that he wou'd marry her To-Morrow.
Agen he Swears, to shun the present Storm,
That he, To-Morrow, will that Vow perform.
The Morrows in their due Successions came;
Impatient still on Each, the pregnant Dame
Urg'd him to keep his Word, and still he swore the same.
When tir'd at length, and meaning no Redress,
But yet the Lye not caring to confess,
He for his Oath this Salvo chose to borrow,
That he was Free, since there was no To-Morrow;
For when it comes in Place to be employ'd,
'Tis then To-Day; To-Morrow's ne'er enjoy'd.
The Tale's a Jest, the Moral is a Truth;
To-Morrow and To-Morrow, cheat our Youth:
In riper Age, To-Morrow still we cry,
Not thinking, that the present Day we Dye;
Unpractis'd all the Good we had Design'd;
There's No To-Morrow to a Willing Mind.
poem by Anne Kingsmill Finch
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
After The Filth Has Been Filtered
After the filth has been filtered,
And drained from minds forced to open...
There will be more honest discussions,
Attempted and made...
Between those in shadows,
And those accustomed to giving shade.
After the filth has been filtered.
With more uninhibited wishes,
From those who escaped away from those days...
When people were afraid to remove those masks,
Some homemade...
That did not convey true portrayals.
But were worn instead,
To deny and hide themselves with choices to be led.
And after the filth has been filtered,
More of life for them begins.
More of life is felt and shared.
With the necessity of charades and masquerades,
For them to end.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Beautiful the Virgin
Beautiful is the virgin, whose tainted purity causes pity in all man's breast.
Innocence there is not, trickery is their everything.
Has no one spared a thought to wonder?
Has no one spared a spark to the imagination?
Beautiful is the virgin, deflowered filth.
Whore to those that pity such filth, anger against those disgusted by filth.
Innocence, an illusion with such vivid imagination, whose trickery is this?
poem by Prince Daugherty
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Food and waste
From the cradle to the grave,
We gulp every thing as sweat
And after the process of digestion
The food defecates as filth.
The world to a child is honey.
The world to the old turns a filth.
24.12.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Varanasi
Amongst the filth
the sweet sound of the flute player
carries through the heated air
and everywhere,
down the Ghats
at sunrise,
the pilgrims gather
along the sacred river Ganges;
devoted to life,
birth and death.
Here in ancient Varanasi
against the backdropp of temples centuries old,
the soul of man
finds its own way home
amongst the filth.
poem by Diana Rosser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ashes Of Life
Love has gone and left me and the days are all alike;
Eat I must, and sleep I will,—and would that night were
here!
But ah!—to lie awake and hear the slow hours strike!
Would that it were day again!—with twilight near!
Love has gone and left me and I don't know what to do;
This or that or what you will is all the same to me;
But all the things that I begin I leave before I'm through,—
There's little use in anything as far as I can see.
Love has gone and left me,—and the neighbors knock and
borrow,
And life goes on forever like the gnawing of a mouse,—
And to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow
There's this little street and this little house.
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Don't Care
Recorded by hank williams (sr.)
Written by hank williams (sr.)
Capo on 2nd fret: key: e play: d
I don't [d] care if to-[a] morrow never [d] comes [d7]
This [g] world holds nothin' for [d] me [d7]
I've been [g] lonely night and day ever [d] since you went away
So i don't care if to-[a] morrow never [d] comes. [d7]
Chorus
If to-[g] morrow never comes and the sun [d] don't ever shine
It won't matter with [a] me
For [d] when she went a-[d7] way, my [g] world ended that [d] day
So i don't care if to-[a] morrow never [d] comes.
My lonely mind wanders back to days that used to be
My broken heart cries out for you
Oh, if i can't have you here, i can't go on my dear
So i don't care if tomorrow never comes.
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Scars Of Our Past
you say you wana know me,
But do you really?
do you see who i am?
Do you see my scars?
look closer, their carves straight into my arm.
Do you see my pain, the tears, streaming down my face.
you hold me in your arms, tell me you care,
but do you really?
How?
Im covered in their filth from what they've all done to m, no matter how many times i shower the filth wont ever leave, it will never go away. cant you see the scars that my past have left behind.
But thats okay becasue today im choosing to make a stand im leaving my scars and past behind.
poem by Alicia Tschantre
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
From to-morrow till to-morrow time goes a long journey.
To-Morrow
When you’re suffering hard for your sins, old man,
When you wake to trouble and sleep ill—
Oh, this is the clack of the middle class,
‘Win back the respect of the people!’
You are weak, you’re a fool, or a drunken brute
When you’re deep in trouble and sorrow;
But walk down the street in a decent suit,
And their hats will be off to-morrow! Old Chap—
And their hats will be off to-morrow!
They cant and they cackle—‘Redeem the Past!’
Who never had past worth redeeming:
Your soul seems dead, but you’ll find at last
That somewhere your soul lay dreaming.
You may stagger down-hill in a beer-stained coat,
You may loaf, you may cadge and borrow—
But walk down the street with a ten-pound note
And their hats will be off to-morrow! Old Man—
Yes, their hats will be off to-morrow!
But stick to it, man! for your old self’s sake,
Though to brood on the past is human;
Hold up for the sake of the mate who was true,
And the sake of the Other Woman.
And as for the rest, you may take off your hat
And banish all signs of sorrow;
You may take their hands, but in spite of that,
Can they win your respect to-morrow? Old Man—
Can they win your respect to-morrow?
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Four Seasons
Maple leaves of yesterday
Rainbow leaves of morrow
Autumn strolls on its way
Time it fails to borrow.
Ice crystals of yesterday
Snow flowers of morrow
Winter roves on a dray
Time it fails to borrow.
Oak leaves of yesterday
Verdant leaves of morrow
April flows into May
Time it fails to borrow.
Blue blossoms of yesterday
Forget-me-not of morrow
Summer rides a railway
Love overcomes sorrow.
poem by Paul Hartal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A nobody to-day, a prince to-morrow. [The reverse of ""To-day a man, to-morrow a mouse.""]
The man least dependent upon the morrow goes to meet the morrow most cheerfully.
The man least dependent upon the morrow goes to meet the morrow most cheerfully.
The Beauti Of Sorrow
Beauti of sorrow
vast as the sea
eve of the morrow
inner expanse of me
conceptually multiplied
virtually personified
politically religified
perceptually cubified
Beatui of sorrow
vast as the sea
eve of the morrow
inner expanse of me
life is a beauty
living our prize
to share them our duty*
effects all our lives*
Beatui of sorrow
vast as the sea
eve of the morrow
inner expanse of me
running reel of thoughts
projection of the mind
independent performing plots
and a function to define
Beatui of sorrow
vast as the sea
eve of the morrow
inner expanse of me
many a different beauties
shine in a single sorrow
many a different evenings
raise a plethora of tomorrows
Beatui of sorrow
vast as the sea
eve of the morrow
inner expanse of me
contemplation of all thats left
the final mystery announced
a souls a speck of a black hole's death
so evil, and good renounce
Beatui of sorrow
vast as the sea
eve of the morrow
inner expanse of me
sorrow isn't knowing now
knowing hurts so much
hurt is hope that holds you down
ego is a common crutch
Beatui of sorrow
vast as the sea
eve of the morrow
inner expanse of me
*Changed Line From:
[to share it our duty-original-2.26.10]
[the purpose of our lives-original-2.26.10]
poem by Tim caffery
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tomorrow is a mystery
While bidding farewell to a departing day
We dream of morrow a new life we pray
Who knows for morrow what's in store
End of all hope or opening new door?
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!