If you just try long enough and hard enough, you can always manage to boot yourself in the posterior.
quote by A.J. Liebling
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Give Me No More Booty
Give me no more booty,
'Cause your booty is too good.
Ah
Booty is too good
Ah
Your booty is too good.
Give me no more booty,
'Cause your booty is too good.
I can never stop,
When you give it out a lot.
Give me no more booty,
'Cause your booty is too good.
Giving me so much,
Makes my head get such a rush.
I can't sustain my game with it!
Or sustain my need to be relieved.
I'm whipped!
Quick.
Give me no more booty,
'Cause your booty is too good.
Ah
Booty is too good
Ah
Your booty is too good.
Give me no more booty,
'Cause your booty is too good.
I can never stop,
When you give it out a lot.
I'm no beast to eatcha.
When you are in heat.
I'd rather just keep ya...
Between sheets,
Beneath.
Oh,
I'm no beast to eatcha.
When you are in heat.
I'd rather just keep ya...
Between sheets,
Beneath.
Oh,
But...
Give me no more booty,
'Cause your booty is too good.
Ah
Your booty is too good
Ah
Your booty is too good.
Give me no more booty,
'Cause your booty is too good.
I can never stop,
When you give it out a lot.
You make it hard...
To give that booty a boot.
Make it hard,
To give that booty a boot.
You make it hard...
To give that booty a boot.
Make it hard,
To give that booty a boot.
You make it hard...
To give that booty a boot.
Make it hard,
To give that booty a boot.
You make it hard...
To give that booty a boot.
Make it hard,
To give that booty a boot.
I've got to,
Get up off your booty and boot.
I've got to,
Get up off your booty and boot.
I've got to,
Get up off your booty and boot.
I've got to,
Get up off your booty and boot.
Got to,
Get up off your booty and boot.
Got to,
Get up off your booty and boot.
I've got to,
Get up off your booty and boot.
Got to,
Get up off your booty and boot.
I've got to,
Get up off your booty.
Get up off your booty.
Get up off your booty.
And boot!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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With A Slacking Done To Piggyback
With a slacking done to piggyback.
Some boot the doer,
Strapped in a saddle and allowing that.
Some boot the doer,
All day long.
And showing strength,
With a disposition strong.
With a knick-knack paddywhack,
Slapped and smacked back...
Some boot the doer.
Pity patters chit chat.
Some boot the doer.
And all day long...
Showing strength is the doer.
The doer shows strength and is strong.
Que cherche-tu mais oui beaucoup...
Some boot the doer.
Yes,
It's true.
Very much of this if you look for it.
Some boot the doer.
Yes,
And quick!
Strapped in a saddle and allowing that.
Some boot the doer.
Some boot the doer.
With a slacking done to piggyback.
Some boot the doer.
Some boot the doer.
With a knick-knack paddywhack,
Slapped and smacked back...
Some boot the doer.
Some boot the doer.
Que cherche-tu mais oui beaucoup...
Some boot the doer.
Yes,
It's true.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Yo' Bootay to Hoottang Boot
Youcanbuttonupyourcollarfromthebottomtothetop.
So-no-onebothersyouforwhatyou'vegot.
Pretendi ngyou'vegotsomethingyouhavenot.
Or-youcoul dchoosetokeepitlockeduptight.
So-youdon'thavet odropittofeedanappetite.
It's-yo'bootayhoottan gtopootang,
Whoyouchoosetoscrewandboot.
It's yo'bootayhoottangtopootang,
Whoyouchoosetoscrewandboot.
Letothersm isunderstandyourstimulationindebate.
Inplayerh atecasestheywannamandate.
Letothersdecidewhosi detoride...
Withwideyedliestheytrytohide.
I t's-yo'bootayhoottangtopootang,
Whoyouchoosetoscrewandboot.
It's yo'bootayhoottangtopootang,
Whoyouchoosetoscrewandboot.
It's-yo'bo otaytohoottang,
Whoyoupootang.
Hoot!
It's-yo'bootaytohoottang,
Whoyoupootang.
Hoot!
Youcanbuttonupyourcollarfromthebottomtoth etop.
So-no-onebothersyouforwhatyou'vegot.
Pretendingyou'vegotsomethingyouhavenot.
It 's-yo'bootaytohoottang,
Whoyoupootang.
Hoot!
It's-yo'bootaytohoottang,
Whoyoupootang.
Hoot!
Letothersmisunderstandyourstimulationinde bate.
Inplayerhatecasestheywannamandate.
Le tothersdecidewhosidetoride...
Withwideyedliest heytrytohide.
It's-yo'bootayhoottangtopoot ang...boot!
Yo'bootay to hoottang...boot!
Yo'bootay to hoottang...boot!
Yo'bootay to hoottang...boot!
oooowww....
Boot!
Yo'bootay to hoottang...boot!
Yo'bootay to hoottang...boot!
Yo'bootay to hoottang...boot!
oooowww....
Boot!
Yo'bootay to hoottang...boot!
Yo'bootay to hoottang...boot!
Yo'bootay to hoottang...boot!
oooowww....
Boot!
Yo'bootay to hoottang...boot!
Yo'bootay to hoottang...boot!
Yo'bootay to hoottang...boot!
oooowww....
Boot!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Content
If clarity of content,
Has a purpose to propose...
Why is the mind confined and stopped,
To ponder upon 'typos'?
As a writer it will happen,
When thoughts are racing fast!
Sharing compositions to proof read,
Can be a pain in the...
Posterior!
And I wouldn't have chosen 'posterior'
To get my point across!
But there are some,
Who believe cussing is dumb...
And when it is seen,
The subject matter of content
Is entirely lost!
Minds like these,
Are looking for dotted (i's) ...
And crossed (t's) !
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Choose to Boot It Just to Mute
...and,
You may...
Risk your life for petty reasons.
You may...
Not believe it to accept it,
Just to find there's nothing there to lose.
...and,
You may...
Risk your life for petty reasons.
You may...
Not believe it to accept it,
Just to find there's nothing there to lose.
And 'then'...
You may,
Get dramatic in dismissing diplomatic moments toned...
When knowing love of life you own with a peace of mind condoned,
In and outside of your home,
Is not on loan droning in a moan groaned all day and night long!
And you 'dig it like the fresh scent of Spring!
Oooh Whoa noooo mo'...
...and,
You may...
Risk your life for petty reasons.
You may...
Not believe it to accept it,
Just to find there's nothing there to lose.
...and,
You may...
Choose to boot it just to mute.
And...
You may,
Boot it just to keep it mute.
...and,
You may...
Choose to boot it just to mute.
And...
You may,
Boot it just to keep it mute.
And then,
You may...
Do whatever it is wanted if you wanted.
Then you may,
Do whatever it is wanted!
And then you may,
Do whatever it is wanted if you wanted.
But then you may,
Boot it just to keep it mute
Or...
Then,
You may...
Choose to boot it just to mute.
Or then you may,
Choose to boot it just to mute!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lady Madonna
Lady madonna, children at your feet
Wonder how you manage to make ends meet
Who finds the money, when you pay the rent
Did you think that money was heaven sent
Friday night arrives without a suitcase
Sunday morning creeping like a nun
Mondays child has learned to tie his boot lace
See how they run!
Lady madonna, baby at your breast
Wonder how you manage to feed the rest
(sax solo)
See how the run!
Lady madonna, lyin on the bed
Listen to the music playing in your head
Tuesday afternoon is never ending
Wednesday morning paper didnt come
Thursday night your stockings needed mending
See how the run!
Lady madonna, children at your feet
Wonder how you manage to make ends meet
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Car Boot
They sleep in twos and eights
With hopes and expectations
Pornographic dreams of cleanliness
Car boot
Tip tap little star
I hope that you are not thirsty
My vision has evaporated
Car boot
The giants house is burning
Smoke invades the eyes
Goodnight my dear cretin
Car boot
poem by James Clive
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lines On H---'s Foot
It may be you've seen her eyes,
Dark and deep like midnight skies;
You mayhap have seen them flash
Underneath the drooping lash,
And been dazzled by the light
Of those orbs, so dark and bright;
But-have you seen her foot,
In its little gaiter boot?
You have noticed, maybe, how
The lily spreads from chin to brow.
You have thought her cheek more fair
Than if roses lingered there;
(Roses would seem out of place
On her pale patrician face)
But-again I question you,
Have you seen her tiny shoe?
You have thought her mouth, no doubt,
Like a blush-rose half blown out;
Small and sweet, withal, beside,
Touched with scorn and curved with pride;
(Innate pride-not meant to chill)-
You have seen it there, and still-
Answer one more question, pray-
Have you seen her boot? I say.
Such a tiny, tiny thing,
Is that foot of which I sing;
No. 3 would hide it so
It could not be found, I know.
No. 2 must stand aside
All too long and large and wide,
No. 1
must
be the boot
For this maiden's little foot.
You may envy, sir, the clerk
In the shoe-store, hard at work,
Who tries the gaiter boot
On this cunning little foot.
On his knee, supporting it,
Saying, 'It's a perfect fit,'
Buttoning on the No. 1,
Looking sorry, when it's done.
You have seen her, slight and neat,
As she tripped along the street,
You have
heard
the pit-pat-fall
Of that foot so very small.
That she's fair, and pure, and good,
Bright, and sweet is understood,
But-have you
seen
that foot-
In its dainty gaiter boot?
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Boot and Saddle
I
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
Rescue my castle before the hot day
Brightens to blue from its silvery gray,
Chorus. Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
II
Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say;
Many's the friend there, will listen and pray
"God's luck to gallants that strike up the lay—
Chorus. "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
III
Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay,
Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads' array:
Who laughs, "Good fellows ere this, by my fay,
Chorus. "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
IV
Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay,
Laughs when you talk of surrendering, "Nay!
I've better counsellors; what counsel they?
Chorus. "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
poem by Robert Bloomfield from Cavalier Tunes (1842)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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You Want To Do What You Want To Do
You want to do what you want to do,
With flip lip and attitude.
With a bet you boot...
To the curb who you choose to scoot!
You are quick with fault to feed,
Anyone you do not need!
With a bet you boot...
To the curb you choose to do.
You will do just as you please,
Caring less who you deceive!
With a bet you boot,
Anyone you poo poo doo!
She will be no,
Fool for you.
He will be no,
Fool for you.
We will be no,
Fool for you!
With a bet you boot,
Anyone you poo poo doo!
She will be no,
Fool for you.
He will be no,
Fool for you.
We will be no,
Fool for you!
With a bet you boot,
Anyone you poo poo doo!
You want to do what you want to do,
With flip lip and attitude.
With a bet that you boot...
To the curb who you choose to scoot!
But...
She will be no,
Fool for you.
He will be no,
Fool for you.
We will be no,
Fool for you!
With a bet you boot...
To the curb who you choose to scoot!
With a bet you boot...
To the curb who you choose to scoot!
You want to do what you want to do,
With flip lip and attitude.
With a bet you boot...
To the curb who you choose to scoot!
You are quick with fault to feed,
Anyone you do not need!
With a bet you boot...
To the curb you choose to do.
She will be no,
Fool for you.
He will be no,
Fool for you.
We will be no,
Fool for you!
With a bet you boot,
Anyone you poo poo doo!
With a bet you boot...
To the curb you choose to do.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cavalier Tunes: Boot and Saddle
Boot, saddle, to horse and away!
Rescue my Castle, before the hot day
Brightens to blue from its silvery gray,
(Chorus)
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say;
Many's the friend there, will listen and pray
"God's luck to gallants that strike up the lay--
(Chorus)
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay,
Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads' array:
Who laughs, "Good fellows ere this, by my fay,
(Chorus)
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay,
Laughs when you talk of surrendering, "Nay!
I've better counsellors; what counsel they?
(Chorus)
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
poem by Robert Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Boot and Saddle
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
Rescue my Castle, before the hot day
Brightens the blue from its silvery grey,
(Chorus) "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say;
Many's the friend there, will listen and pray
"God's luck to gallants that strike up the lay,
(Chorus) "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay,
Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads array:
Who laughs, Good fellows ere this, by my fay,
(Chorus) "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest and gay,
Laughs when you talk of surrendering, "Nay!
I've better counsellors; what counsel they?"
(Chorus) "Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!"
poem by Robert Browning
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love—is anterior to Life
917
Love—is anterior to Life—
Posterior—to Death—
Initial of Creation, and
The Exponent of Earth—
poem by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love is anterior to life, posterior to death, initial of creation, and the exponent of breath.
quote by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Search For A Better Life
you bury your face on a
sand of work
you cannot breathe
you have not time for breathing even
you take almost everything
in one instant
and proclaim that this is the last
to boot
until you find out that there is no more place
for hard work
those who do not work so hard have already
been given
what is due for you
they have learned the art of praise
and worship
and they make the difference
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Be (Love Poem)
Sometimes it’s hard to be apart
Sometimes it’s hard to be brave
Sometimes it’s hard to be cold
Sometimes it’s hard to be daring
Sometimes it’s hard to be early
Sometimes it’s hard to be friends
Sometimes it’s hard to be good
Sometimes it’s hard to be happy
Sometimes it’s hard to be in-love
Sometimes it’s hard to be just
Sometimes it’s hard to be kind
Sometimes it’s hard to be lovely
Sometimes it’s hard to be mellow
Sometimes it’s hard to be nasty
Sometimes it’s hard to be out
Sometimes it’s hard to be poor
Sometimes it’s hard to be quiet
Sometimes it’s hard to be ready
Sometimes it’s hard to be simple
Sometimes it’s hard to be together
poem by Ian Beckett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Did You Manage
Ooh mmm, ooh yeah
Ooh mmm-mmm-mmm
Ooh mmm, ooh uh
Ooh uh-uh-uh-uh
You made the sun
You made the moon
Gave seasons change
(Whoa)
You made the clouds
You put the rainbow
After the rain
(Whoa)
Created time
Now which one's mine
Gave pictures frames
(Whoa)
Created man
Gave him woman
Why did you do that for me?
These are the questions asked (these are the questions)
Before I lay me down and go to sleep (yeah, ooh sometimes I wonder)
Sometimes I wonder why you decided
To keep your hands on me (hands on me)
Of all the miracles, signs and wonders
There's still one mystery
How did you manage... to love me?
You breathe the life
Right into me
Then made my heart beat
(Whoa)
Created the mountains
All of the deep seas
Flowers and the trees
(Whoa)
You made tomorrow
Come again
You calm the strong winds
(Whoa)
And after all I've done
You gave me a son
Tell me why would you do that for me?
These are the questions asked (yeah)
Before I lay me down and go to sleep (right in the middle of my prayers)
Sometimes I wonder why you decided (oh yeah)
To keep your hands on me (hands on me)
Of all the miracles, signs and wonders
There's still one mystery
How did you manage... to love me?
(How did you manage that)
How did you manage... to love me?
Said I've got to know how...
(How did you manage to love me?)
After all the wrong I've done oh Lord, how...
(How did you manage to love me?)
After I've been so bad oh Lord, how...
(How did you manage to forgive me?) Oh I
Even when I didn't believe in me you believed in me Lord, how
(How did you manage to forgive me?)
Jesus you sacrificed your very life for me
(How did you manage to forgive me?)
Ohh Lord tell me...
(Why did you pay the price... for me?)
Whoo... you... why...
(How did you manage to love me?)
song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Bit of Sizzle And a Boot Up
I feel I'm gonna need it,
Under my feet.
That heat to get me moving.
That heat to make me leap.
I feel I'm gonna need it,
Under my feet.
Yes...
Because I'm slowing down.
And it's age that's creepin 'round.
I sometimes feel a little rusty.
With a little rust getting dusty.
I need a bit of sizzle and a boot up.
Just a bit of sizzle and a boot up.
I need a bit of sizzle and a boot up.
A push to get me out this rut.
I need a bit of sizzle and a boot up.
Just a bit of sizzle and a boot up.
I need a bit of sizzle and a boot up.
A push to get me out this rut.
I feel I'm gonna need it,
Under my feet.
That heat to get me moving.
That heat to make me leap.
I feel I'm gonna need it,
Under my feet.
Yes...
Because I'm slowing down.
And it could be my age creepin 'round.
I need a bit of sizzle and a boot up.
Just a bit of sizzle and a boot up.
I sometimes feel a little rusty.
With a little rust getting dusty.
I feel I'm gonna need it,
Under my feet.
Yes...
Because I'm slowing down.
And it's age that's creepin 'round.
I sometimes feel a little rusty.
With a little rust getting dusty.
I...
Sometimes feel a little rusty.
With a little rust getting dusty.
I need a bit of sizzle and a boot up.
Just a bit of sizzle and a boot up.
I need a bit of sizzle and a boot up.
Just a bit of sizzle and a boot up.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No, only disappointment in myself on those occasions I didn't manage to rise to the occasion as I felt I should've done. I can always see how to do it, and then the challenge is, Can I manage that each and every day?
quote by Christian Bale
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whose Boot Is It Anyway?
Alone & footless,
Sideswiped on the highway,
South of Grand Canyon,
The boot weathers the rain.
Whose feet had felt its pain?
The absent man hurdled from a car,
Dead, now a ghost among the juniper flat.
Gone now, but a pariah to his own left boot's wall.
A bum, a hectic gambler, a heretic,
Or just some dozing motorist;
Another question remains;
Was the little white cross sticking out of the pavement
His? Or was that happenstance,
Laced up to the top, some unlikely chance?
No man is here.
Yet a man was there.
A man who lost his life & line,
Leaving one boot as a puzzle to find.
It gives me a chasm of a feeling,
& at 80 mph my mind is reeling,
Where in all this wilderness
Is the fellow with at least one bare foot
& what fate did he meet?
poem by Stan Petrovich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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