Every man has his moral backside which he refrains from showing unless he has to and keeps covered as long as possible with the trousers of decorum.
quote by Georg C. Lichtenberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pro Patria Mori
World War 1 Soldier Tailem Bend by Illawarrian
Pro patria mori
Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
For generations
we've sold these goods
to young boys
who burn for glory.
Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Indeed, how sweet,
Pray tell
Poppy covered warrior.
Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
How sweet was the Somme?
Such little ground
was gained with
half a generation gone.
Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
When weapons
far outpace the men
what an empty word
is glory.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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I saw men
I saw men wetting their pants
when the first bullets fly past them
in their first contact with the enemy
and I saw men,
shot out of their military boots
and lying broken and covered with blood.
I saw men burnt to ashes
by white phosphorous
in a shot out Ratel IFV
and I saw men
left limbless by landmines.
I saw men making the best
of what life dealt them
and fighting to survive
against the odds
and gaining victory,
against a outnumbering foe
and still believing the old lie:
Dulce et decorum est
pro patria mori
[References: Dulce et decorum est by Wilfred Owen. Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.=> 'It is sweet and right to die for the homeland”]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Wot a Pair
I waz walking down Wyefront street
When me trousers ran away,
I waz feeling incomplete
But still me trousers would not stay,
When I found where they had gone
De pair addressed me rather blunt,
And they told me they were sick of being put on
Back to front.
I told dem I would treat dem good
And wear dem back to back,
I promised dem protection
From a friend who is a mac,
Me trousers did not believe a single word I had to say,
And me underpants were laughing
When me trousers ran away.
poem by Benjamin Zephaniah
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Backside Of Thirty
They say when you reach
the backside of thirty;
a midlife crisis looms in the air.
Midlife crisis!
Now what the hell is that?
Is it like the flu,
or a summer cold?
If it is, then I had mine,
When I got married
So many years ago.
So what happens?
When you reach the backside of forty.
Is it another midlife crisis,
or are you over the hill there?
Don’t ask me, I don’t know.
A government official once told me,
At the age of forty,
I was too far gone for repair.
That I was on the downward stretch.
Well here I am at sixty two,
and I’ve seen the backside of fifty.
But who really cares?
Your as young as you feel,
and I still feel like a little kid.
I go away at weekend
and play cowboys and Indians,
but in my case it is vicars and Indians
that’s why they call me Dodgy Dave.
Who cares if I’m a blatant fool,
I’m enjoying my life while I got it.
My advise to you,
is when you hit the backside of thirty,
you do the same as I do.
Act a little crazy,
and enjoy everyday you got.
13 June 2007
poem by David Harris
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I have *PRIDE* in myself
I tripped
I fell
Into a massive dirty puddle
I ran home embarressed
I accidently ripped my trousers
on the back
my pink hearted pants were showing
I ran to the toilets in shame
My bag broke and fell on the floor
All my books flew everywhere
and I had to chase them
I lowered my head in disbelieve
But still I have pride in myself
the next day I came to school smiling
I walked around the puddle
I wore shorts under my new trousers
And I got a new bag
Today was the day that I got to
walk with my head held high and a massive
grin across my face
I still have pride in myself
poem by MeganOlivia Maxwell
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Vegetable Man
In yellow shoes I get the blues
Though I walk the streets with my plastic feet
With my blue velvet trousers, make me feel pink
Theres a kind of stink about blue velvet trousers
In my paisley shirt I look a jerk
And my turquoise waistcoat is quite out of sight
But oh oh my haircut looks so bad
Vegetable man how are you?
So Ive changed my dear, and I find my knees,
And I covered them up with the latest cut,
And my pants and socks all point in a box,
They dont make long of my nylon socks,
The watch, black watch
My watch with a black face
And a big pin, a little hole,
And all the lot is what I got,
Its what I wear, its what you see,
It must be me, its what I am,
Vegetable man.
Ive been looking all over the place for a place for me,
But it aint anywhere, it just aint anywhere.
Vegetable man, vegetable man,
Hes the kind of person, you just gonna see him if you can,
Vegetable man.
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soily
People gathered here tonight,
I want you to listen to me!
To your left and to you right,
Youve got some pretty soily company.
Reader, writer, farmer, priest,
Breed controler, born deceased.
Indian, lawyer, doctor, dog,
And a plumber with a fattened hog.
Soily, soily,
The cat in satin trousers said its oily.
Soily, soily,
The cat in satin trousers said its oily,
You know hes right.
Romans, italians, country men,
I want you to listen to me!
Ive said it twice and Ill say it again,
Weve got some pretty soily company.
Liar, cheater, jungle chief,
Saint, believer on relief.
Action painter, hitlers son,
And a commie with a tommy gun.
Soily, soily,
The cat in satin trousers said its oily.
Soily, soily,
The cat in satin trousers said its oily,
Oh yeah, yeah, yeah.
Soily, soily,
The cat in satin trousers said its oily.
Soily, soily,
The cat in satin trousers said its oily.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Snap (Fun Poem 125)
Woke up and had a shower
felt great and refreshed,
laid my clothes out
and started to get dressed.
Dragged on my trousers
and then pulled on my belt.
Snap!
I stood there with half a belt in my hand
and my trousers around my ankles.
Now I need a length of string
to hold my trousers up.
Looks like it gonna be
a new belt day today.
(7 July 2011)
poem by David Harris
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We Learned
The decorum of fire...
-- Pablo Neruda
We learned the decorum of fire,
the flame's curious symmetry,
the blue heat at the center of the thighs,
the flickering red of the hips,
& the tallow gold of the breasts
lit from within
by the lantern in the ribs.
You tear yourself out of me
like a branch that longs to be grafted
onto a fruit tree,
peach & pear
crossed with each other,
fig & banana served on one plate,
the leaf & the luminous snail
that clings to it.
We learned that the tearing
could be a joining,
that the fire's flickering
could be a kindling,
that the old decorum of love--
to die into the poem,
leaving the lover lonely with her pen--
was all an ancient lie.
So we banished the evil eye:
you have to be unhappy to create;
you have to let love die before it writes;
you have to lose the joy to have the poem--
& we re-wrote our lives with fire.
See this manuscript covered
with flesh-colored words?
It was written in invisible ink
& held up to our flame.
The words darkened on the page
as we sank into each other.
We are ink & blood
& all things that make stains.
We turn each other golden as we turn,
browning each other's skins like suns.
Hold me up to the light;
you will see poems.
Hold me in the dark;
you will see light.
poem by Erica Jong
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Glass Walls
Glass walls
Of the candy jar
Showing me the colors
Showing me the shapes
Just showing me...
Glass walls
Of the shopping mall
Showing me the colors
Showing me the shapes
Just showing me..
Glass walls
Of the computer screens
Showing me the colors
Showing me the smiles
Showing me the love
Even telling me... and nudging me...
It is only the glass... I can touch...!
poem by Rowving Smith
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Baggy Trousers
Naughty boys in nasty schools
Headmasters breaking all the rules
Having fun and playing fools
Smashing up the woodwork tools
All the teachers in the pub
Passing round the ready-rub
Trying not to think of when
The lunch-time bell will ring again.
Oh what fun we had
But, did it really turn out bad
All I learnt at school
Was how to bend not break the rules
Oh what fun we had
But at the time it seemed so bad
Trying different ways
To make a difference to the days.
Headmasters had enough to-day
All the kids have gone away
Gone to fight with next-doors school
Every term, that is the rule
Sits alone and bends his cane
Same old backsides again
All the small ones tell tall tales
Walking home and squashing snails.
Oh what fun we had
But, did it really turn out bad
All I learnt at school
Was how to bend not break the rules
Oh what fun we had
But at the time it seemed so bad
Trying different ways
To make a difference to the days.
Lots of girls and lots of boys
Lots of smells and lots of noise
Playing football in the park
Kicking pushbikes after dark
Baggy trousers, dirty shirt
Pulling hair and eating dirt
Teacher comes to break it up
Back of the ead with a plastic cup.
Oh what fun we had
But, did it really turn out bad
All I learnt at school
Was how to bend not break the rules
Oh what fun we had
But at the time it seemed so bad
Trying different ways
To make a difference to the days.
Baggy trousers, baggy trousers, baggy trousers
Baggy trousers, baggy trousers, baggy trousers
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Relics From The Past
We never thought they'd disappear
We took them all for granted
But now long gone, it seems quite clear
They've been permanently supplanted
Carbon paper, remember it?
It copied printed matter
Creating files in triplicate
It helped us save our data
Fashion concious men
Covered shoes with spatz
Fashionable women
Wore millinery hats
Cars with rumble-seats
In our driving apparatus
Were driven by elites
As a way of showing status
Since the Frigidaire's displaced it
The ice-box now seems crude
We've frigidly replaced it
As our way of cooling food
Fashionably in style
Oil-cloth covered floors
Now covered flooring tile
Is found on floors indoors
With wooden shafted clubs
Golf courses we abused
For golfing way-ward dubs
Now metal shafts are used
The list goes on and on
Of relics from the past
Looking back, they had their charm
It's sad some didn't last
Perhaps I'm too a relic
Passing through life's stage
Though presently idyllic
Not lasting past old age
poem by Stanley Cooper
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Letting go of the bad and showing the world who i am
I am tired of feeling hurt
I am tired of feeling used
I am tired of feeling unworth
I am letting go of you
I am letting go of pain
I am letting go of shame
I am letting go of darkness
I am letting go of bitterness
I am letting go of all the bad and only waiting for the good
I am taking in the light and coming out from underneath my hood
I will show the world my eyes and my smile
I am showing the world My laughter and ability to be wild
I am showing the world its wrong and that I will go on
I am showing the world I am in control
I am showing the world all the things i'm letting go
I am showing the world my joy and my tears
I am showing the world my screams and my fears
I am showing the world who i am and where I've been
I am showing the world all that i can
I will show the world who i am inside and out
I will show the world i don't care if its me they talk about
poem by Jean Pullman
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Hypocrisy is a value that I think has been embraced by the Republican Party. We get lectured by people all day long about moral values by people who have their own moral shortcomings.
quote by Howard Dean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lifeblood
Another night in a succession
Thinly glued with beer and wine
Its a precarious profession
Every day at work sees your heart on the line
Maybe I should have gone to business school
Or gained myself a respectable trade
Or stayed in childhood where the shade keeps you cool
Making my living selling lemonade
But running through my veins
Are the words and the refrains
As if they were my lifeblood itself
And you know I cant stay alive on the food of 9 to 5
My dreams are just old picture on the shelf
Oh yeah
I remember the folks said give it a try
Or youll never know who you might have been
And just remember nothing is the end of the world
Until the world comes to an end
Still theres a point to this philosophy
(when you take a look inside)
Of taking a look at who you are
Still sometimes all I have to help me see
Are all the mirrors behind the bar
But running through my veins
Are the words and the refrains
As if they were my lifeblood itself
And you know I cant stay alive on the food of 9 to 5
My dreams are just old picture on the shelf
Oh yeah
But running through my veins
Are the words and the refrains
As if they were my lifeblood itself
And you know I cant stay alive on the food of 9 to 5
My dreams are just old picture on the shelf
Oh yeah
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A man with trousers that are too short should wear long suspenders.
Red And Brown
- Why do you always wear the red shirt?
- They assert that…it’s to avert the fright of seeing blood
when I am wounded.
I am quite salted and not a crud.
- Now I understand your point of view.
Looking at you a picture I drew:
You always wear the brown trousers
for not having any moral traumas.
The outflow of your shit nothing will show,
But ….only your crow.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
The 7th of January,2012
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Covered In Rain
These days, with the world getting colder,
She spends more time sleeping over
Than I planned.
Tonight were gonna order in,
Drinking wine and watch some cnn.
Its dark I know but then again
Its the brightest thing I got
When Im covered in rain
When Im covered in rain, rain, rain, rain
No, I am covered in rain, rain
Firewoods to fire places
Summer snow and fallen places
Now were people watching other people, people watching you and i
Standing by the missing signs at the cvs by the checkout line
Put your tiny hands in mine
Cause your the brightest thing I got
When youre covered in rain
Cause Im covered in rain
Cause Im covered in rain
No Im covered in rain
And its alright
If you dont want to go on
And its alright
If you dont want to be alone
And its alright
If you dont want to go home
Come december lydia left
Mentioned something about it being for the best
And I cant say I disagree
Now Im standing facing west
Tracing my fingers round a silhouette
I havent gotten used to yet
But its the brightest thing I got
And Im covered in rain
Cus Im covered in rain
Cus Im covered in rain
You and me and everyone, covered in rain
song performed by by John Mayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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20 Minutes
It only lasted for 20 minutes and,
It was all over! !
But you have covered yourself with the muse of your love,
And like the red and the blue rags around you.
Red Jacket and black trousers,
Satisfied by the proxy of love;
And like the Russian Summer on the muse of your love,
But it lasted only for 20 minutes.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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MT. O' Lip'us
I awake at an angle…
A view I never knew…The earth on it's axis…
Showing the head of the sun…
And in that sunlight …
I see (mons pubis) …
The (mound) I so often…
Fine in the dark…
Just sitting there…
Looking all bald…?
And you unique at first sight…
Nothing out of the night…
I viewed it as something new…
As the sunlight got brighter…
The mound became much smoother…
Almost… life like…
Then she moved and covered the mound with her hand…
I removed her hand…replacing it with my head…
The sunlight covered us both…
As I smiled …snuggling down…
For the morning…I…could….
Hear a nightingale…gabbling…
Whisperkwane@gma il.com
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
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