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If you let a bully come in your front yard, he'll be on your porch the next day and the day after that he'll rape your wife in your own bed. (On appeasement)

quote by Lyndon B. Johnson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If you let a bully come in your front yard, he'll be on your porch the next day and the day after that he'll rape your wife in your own bed.

quote by Lyndon B. Johnson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rape Me

Rape me
Rape me my friend
Rape me
Rape me again

I'm not the only one (4x)

Hate me
Do it and do it again
Waste me
Rape me my friend

I'm not the only one (4x)

My favorite inside source
I'll kiss your open sores
Appreciate your concern
You'll always stink and burn

Rape me
Rape me my friend
Rape me
Rape me again

I'm not the only one (4x)

Rape me (rape me) (8x)
Rape me

song performed by by Nirvana from In Utero
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Things I Miss The Most

I swear I gave up drinkin';
Sometimes I have no choice,
After singin' hard, six nights straight,
A little sip sure helps my voice.
Don't get me wrong, I love these songs,
An' I know I've got it made.
Sometimes my mind starts driftin',
When I'm up here on the stage.
To that last half-mile of dirt road,
An' that oak tree on the hill.
To those dogs out, barkin' in the yard,
An' that tractor in the field.
An' them kids up on the front porch,
Screamin': "Mamma, Daddy's home!"
When I'm out here, I'm just thinkin',
About the things I miss the most.
Yeah, the hardest bthing I have to do,
Is hang up this telephone.
There's so much left to talk about,
An' I been gone so long.
So put them kids on one more time,
Before they go to sleep.
And, baby, no, no matter where I go,
All that I can see,
Is that last half-mile of dirt road,
An' that oak tree on the hill.
To those dogs out, barkin' in the yard,
An' that tractor in the field.
An' them kids up on the front porch,
Screamin': "Mamma, Daddy's home!"
When I'm out here, I'm just thinkin',
About the things I miss the most.
The things I miss the most.
The things I miss the most.
An' it's killin'me:
I hate to leave this family that you've given me,
God only knows, I hate to go,
So hold me close and let me let you know,
About the things I miss the most.
Instrumental Break.
People always ask me,
After every show,
"Of all the places that you've ever been,
"What's your favorite place to go?"
It's that last half-mile of dirt road,
An' that oak tree on the hill.
An' those dogs out, barkin' in the yard,
An' that ol' tractor in the field.
An' them kids up on the front porch,
Screamin': "Mamma, Daddy's home!"
When I'm out here, I'm just thinkin',
'Bout the things I miss the most.
While I'm out here, I'm just thinkin',
About the things I miss the most.
Oh, ooh.

song performed by by Van Zant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Late Night with Fog and Horses

They were in the living room. Saying their
goodbyes. Loss ringing in their ears.
They'd been through a lot together, but now
they couldn't go another step. Besides, for him
there was someone else. Tears were falling
when a horse stepped out of the fog
into the front yard. Then another, and
another. She went outside and said,
'Where did you come from, you sweet horses?'
and moved in amongst them, weeping,
touching their flanks. The horses began
to graze in the front yard.
He made two calls: one call went straight
to he sheriff - 'someone's horses are out.'
But there was that other call, too.
Then he joined his wife in the front
yard, where they talked and murmured
to the horses together. (Whatever was
happening now was happening in another time.)
Horses cropped the grass in the yard
that night. A red emergency light
flashed as a sedan crept in out of fog.
Voices carried out of the fog.
At the end of that long night,
when they finally put their arms around
each other, their embrace was full of
passion and memory. Each recalled
the other's youth. Now something had ended,
something else rushing in to take its place.
Came the moment of leave-taking itself.
'Goodbye, go on,' she said.
And then pulling away.
Much later,
he remembered making a disastrous phone call.
One that had hung on and hung on,
a malediction. It's boiled down
to that. The rest of his life.
Malediction.

poem by Raymond Clevie Carver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Front Porch Looking In

Oh yeah
Yeah oh yeah
The only ground I ever owned was sticking to my shoes
Now I look at my front porch and this panoramic view
I can sit and watch the fields fill up
With rays of glowing sun
Or watch the moon lay on the fences
Like that's where it was hung
My blessings are in front of me
It's not about the land
I'll never beat the view
From my front porch looking in
There's a carrot top who can barely walk
With a sippy cup of milk
A little blue eyed blonde with shoes on wrong
'Cause she likes to dress herself
And the most beautiful girl holding both of them
And the view I love the most
Is my front porch looking in, yeah
I've traveled here and everywhere
Following my job
I've seen the paintings from the air
Brushed by the hand of God
The mountains and the canyons reach from sea to shining sea
But I can't wait to get back home
To the one he made for me
It's anywhere I'll ever go and everywhere I've been
Nothing takes my breath away
Like my front porch looking in
There's a carrot top who can barely walk
With a sippy cup of milk
A little blue eyed blonde with shoes on wrong
'Cause she likes to dress herself
And the most beautiful girl holding both of them
Yeah the view I love the most
Is my front porch looking in
I see what beautiful is about
When I'm looking in
Not when I'm looking out
There's a carrot top who can barely walk
With a sippy cup of milk
A little blue eyed blonde with shoes on wrong
'Cause she likes to dress herself
And the most beautiful girl holding both of them
Yeah the view I love the most
Oh, the view I love the most
Is my front porch looking in
Yeah
Oh, there's a carrot top who can barely walk
(From my front porch looking in)
A little blue eyed blonde with shoes on wrong, yeah
And the most beautiful girl
(Beautiful girl
From my front porch looking in)
Holding both of them
Oh, yeah

song performed by by Lonestar
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If You Beat Your Dog

If you beat your dog what does this say of you
That to love and compassion you cannot be true
I pity your children and I pity your wife
With you they must have the most miserable life
Your dog is the most aggressive dog on the street
The reason he is this way is that him you mistreat
Each time I pass your locked front yard gate he growls and bares his teeth
Could he escape from the yard him I'd not wish to meet
Those who beat their dog can also beat their wife, daughter and son
For cruelty does not have borders when all is said and done
Your dog does not greet you home from work at the gate
He does not respect you as his master or mate
The fear he has of you in aggression to others he does show
The sort of person you are through your aggressive dog I have come to know.

poem by Francis Duggan
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In Our Old Age

Comin' home from work today I saw our future
And old man and his wife were holdin' hands
They were sittin' on a front porch swing like two young lovers
I waved to them as I went by then I realized
That life does not grow dimmer with the settin' of the sun
The best years of our lives still are yet to come.
In our old age love will just get better
The longer we're together, we'll grow stronger everyday
Our bodies may get weaker and our hair will turn gray
But love will never fade in our age ( love will never fade ).
One day the kids will all be grown and theyll be leavin'
And it will be like it was years ago
We'll be sittin' on the front porch swing like two young lovers
'Cause today I just saw what our future holds...

song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Me Only?

Rape here and rape there, rape is every where.
And country is become a big Mogul Harem, my fear;
Rape in the village, rape in the town:
Rape in sari, rape in gown:
India, secular, socialist and democratic:
But of late has become a rape republic.

Rape on an infant, rape on an old:
Rape of a student, rape of a tourist, told:
Rape by a friend, rape by an enemy:
Rape by majority, rape by minority;
Rape by the rich, rape by a poor ward:
Rape by forward, rape by backward.

A paid rape and a free rape,
A group rape and a compulsive rape,
All are socialist and secular,
In this perversion, hateful;
Daily it is breaking news,
Still there is no emotion to view.

I had survived, from among the dying,
The rapists reached to rape me, trying;
In my mother's wombs, unborn, I was a fetus;
No safe corners hide to shun the pain, tedious;
As I got a shape of a beautiful moor,
The dark sheep are there to maul my contour.

'This single act ends my own life, ' is one,
Where all the pains reside;
Crushed by the mis-fortune of some deadly sin-
Can't be washed by greatest win.
I lifted but hated my self here,
'There's no solace any where! '

"It is a dark spot, where all light spent,
All darkness! " cried I, Intent;
It hit me hard to graceless mutiny,
I was hideous, hopeless without scrutiny;
I sat, where night never ends;
Heaven's radiant show never lends.

poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Home invasion in Springs

Masked like the black criminals
that robs you of your car
and just there and there promises you death,
they arrived

with a mini bus taxi on the farm,
drove right through the farm gate
and at the front door
jumped out of the kombi

with five steps intruded into the house
to bring death to the farmer,
to rape the wife
and daughter.

The farmer heard the crash
at the gate,
he realized that it was big trouble
heard them in their own language command

to kill, while shot upon shot
was ringing from the front porch
and he though about the obliteration
of his whole family.

His wife was too far away
in the lounge busy with sewing
and he heard his daughter rushing screaming
to her mother

turned about hurried to the gun safe
and got hold of a pump action shotgun
with LG cartridges
and rushed down the hallway.

In the lounge four black criminals
aimed pistols at his daughter and wife
told them to strip themselves bare
and when they did not want to

one said to the others in his language
to kill them
while the farmer was sneaking
closer at the back of the lounge suite.

Just one glance from the farmer
made his wife and daughter fall to the ground
two shots came from the shotgun
lifting two of the gangsters right from their feet

and the other two started shooting
into the ceiling
and the wall of the lounge
and when the farmer fired again

they fled in fear to the outside
turning around to fire at the farmer
and another one dropped in his tracks,
the other ran wounded into the cornfield.

At the start the police, wanted to arrest
the farmer for the murder of the robbers,
but there was more than enough evidence
that it was self-defence,

even the farm workers
were witnesses
about the shooting, threat
of the robbers

and by his actions
the farmer saved himself, his wife and daughter
and the labourers praised him
as a kind and a just man

but at the church
some members regarded the farmer
as a mass killer
who had determined the fate of others with a shotgun.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Mubarak Refused To Relinquish Power

It was an impact late-night TV address
Mubarak refused to relinquish power
appeasement dismissed his government
promising a new administration to tackle
unemployment to promote democracy
sadly such appeasement falls little to late

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When I Was A Child A Bully Would Challenge Me

When I was a child a bully would challenge me. He was bigger. I would run away. Over and over this went on. One morning I woke up from a dream in which I seem the bully punch some one I love over a fence. I was furious that morning. That morning the bully said something about my sister. Later that day we met at the park to fight. It was all set we would fight. It seemed as if every child from the school was there. I did not care. All that I seen, felt, all that ran through my mind was him punching my sister over the fence. The bully looked so surprised when I stepped into him and punched him right in the face. He started crying. When he got back to his feet the crowd of children were cheering. One of the older children ran in. He would not let him continue, blood poured from the bully's face. The older child might have sensed that I really would have changed the bully's life even more profoundly.

poem by Michael Kavuoti
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Hurling

Hurling, hurl, run, gin, in, ring, hug, rug, ruin, luring;
With quarterly sessions in the name of your love,
But he attempted to rape her!

Disparaged,
But he stood naked in front of her!
And was caught by eyewitnesses as he attempted to rape her;
But now, it is all over! !
And, he was jailed for his acts last month.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fluffy

Fluffy, furry buddy
Chewed his leg on the porch
Whyd you do it fluffy, on the porch?
Good dog fluffy, old friend my pal
Fluffys got his buddy on the porch
Penny, shes my girlie, she sits here with me on the porch
Penny looks so pretty on the porch
Penny takes fluffy for a walk out on the path
Fluffy chases the other doggies on the path
But big sister penny get fluffy back on the porch
So me and fluffy and penny were on the porch

song performed by by Ween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Organize

rape in the grapes of wrath.wash away the evidence, take a bath.a path to an ooze, all i got to do, is pull out a knife and your my wife.the night, under a street light a guy ponders this.a woman walks by, worth a kiss.did she make it? yes.it wasnt rape in her eyes only her best.

poem by Chris Bowen
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Where I Come From

Well I was rollin wheels and shiftin gears
round that jersey turnpike
When barney stopped me with his gun
Ten minutes after midnight
Said sir you broke the limit in this rusty ol truck
I dont know about that accent son
Just where did you come from
I said where I come from
Its cornbread and chicken
Where I come from a lotta front porch sitiin
Where I come from tryin to make a livin
And workin hard to get to heaven
Where I come from
Well I was south of detroit city
I pulled in this country kitchen
To try their brand of barbecue
The sign said finger-lickin
Well I paid the tab and the lady aked me
Howd you like my biscuit
Ill be honest with you maam
It aint like mama fixed it
Cause where I come from
Its cornbread and chicken
Where I come from a lotta front porch pickin
Where I come from tryin to make a livin
And workin hard to get to heaven
Where I come from
I was chasin sun on 101
Somewhere around ventura
I lost a universal joint and I had to use my finger
This tall lady stopped and asked
If I had plans for dinner
Said no thanks maam, back home
We like the girls that sing soprano
Cause where I come from
Its cornbread and chicken
Where I come from a lotta front porch sitiin
Where I come from tryin to make a livin
And workin hard to get to heaven
Where I come from
Well I was headed home on 65
Somewhere around kentucky
The cb rang for a bobtail rig
Thats rollin on like thunder
Well I answered him and he asked me
Arent you from out in tulsa
No, but you mighta seen me there
I just dropped a load of salsa
Where I come from its cornbread and chicken
Where I come from a lotta front porch pickin
Where I come from tryin to make a livin
Workin hard to get to heaven
Where I come from
Where I come from yeah its cornbread and chicken
Where I come from a lotta back porch pickin
Where I come from tryin to make a livin
Workin hard to get to heaven
Where I come from
Yeah where I come from
A lotta front porch sitiin
Starin up at heaven
Where I come from
Where I come from
Tryin to make a livin
Tryin to make a livin
Oh, where I come from
Where I come from
Yeah where I come from
Get back down there sometimes
Where I come from

song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One difference between French appeasement and American appeasement is that France pays ransom in cash and gets its hostages back while the United States pays ransom in arms and gets additional hostages taken.

quote by William Safire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Man with the Thousand Yard Stare

He sits with a stoic's resistance,
his son in the casket lies there.
No line of a tear mars his visage-
the man with the Thousand yard stare.

He sits in the front row of mourners,
His dear sobbing wife by his side
in silence he keeps his sad vigil
and stares up at Christ crucified.

The mourners pass by him in silence,
touch his hand or say meaningless words,
for his part he stares straight on through them
as if nothings felt, nothings heard.

The Parson commands us to silence
and struggles to lead us in prayer-
but half of the room has forgotten the words
like the man with the thousand yard stare

Death is my race's core competence
dealing with life, we're but fair,
but none living today keeps sorrow at bay
not the man with the thousand yard stare.

poem by John F. McCullagh
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I'm Not A Bully

sometimes i say harsh-full things
and don't give a damn about
broken hearts, broken spirit shattering
to shards....
My bare knuckle may just collide
with their lips...but its only few blood that drip.
I may even be a telltale but
isn't it for their best?
I am not not bully though.
it is just apart of the bog circle of life-
'the weak will never prosperous'
it is okay to cry and sleep
I am not a bully.
I took no one's life and watch them die...
even though i may think it.
I'm not a bully

poem by C.F Francis
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I can’t rape.

I can’t rape a woman;
I sing, draw and write about her.
I can’t rape a woman;
I devour her with my eyes, and voyeur.
I can’t rape a woman;
I see her dance, and romance in screens.
A sort of perversion;
Is there any animal who’s pervert?
I can’t rape a woman;
I bring her image in my fantasies.
13.12.2008

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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And with the rape, I was showing why the rape statistics are exaggerated, and saying that date rape was much more complex than the way feminists had portrayed it, as men oppressing women.

quote by Warren Farrell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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