Whoever becomes the head of the National Theater finds himself in a position like that of Nelson's Column - pigeons dump on you because you're there.
quote by Peter Hall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
We used to play in a theater club in London called The King's Head. When the theater let nut, around 10:00 P.M., we'd be ready to go and really get it on for about an hour or so.
quote by Mark Knopfler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Pigeons
My pigeons.
these, who live
in the birdhouse,
(for
pets)
are not at all “my” pigeons.
I am not there during the day.
And I cannot recognize myself.
At night they talk to each other.
I understand that this is so,
when in the room with my pigeons
I am met by a big blue eye.
They shyly grow quiet.
Please,
Do not be concerned.
They get along just fine.
poem by Bozhidar Pangelov
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When George Washington was elected president, there was no national vote.
quote by Ben Nelson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There's no excuse for skimping on national defense when the country is at war.
quote by Bill Nelson
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I've never had any feeling of disconnection between the classical theater, or the contemporary theater, or musical theater, or the thing that we call opera.
quote by Trevor Nunn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It had run as a column - I had worked at the paper since 1976, but the column had been running for 13 years, and I think it was a strong column, criticizing the war when the paper was supporting it.
quote by Robert Scheer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Burning Ground
And I take you down to the burning ground
And you change me up and you turned it around
In the wind and rain Im gonna see you again
In the morning sun and when the day is done
And you take my hand and you walk with me
Sometimes it feels like eternity
And I turn the tide I get back my pride
And I make you proud wont you say it out loud
When I take you down to the burning ground
To the burning ground, to the burning ground
To the burning ground, to the burning ground
And I take you down by the factory
And I show you like it has to be
And you understand how the work is done
And I pick up the sack in the midday sun
And I pull you through by the skin of your teeth
And I lift the veil, I see whats underneath
And you return to me and you sit on your throne
And you make me feel that Im not alone
And I take you down to the burning ground
To the burning ground, to the burning ground
To the burning ground
Hey man, whats that youre carrying?
Feels like lead
It weighs a ton - lets see if we can dump it by the side of the hill
Hey wait up, why dont you dump it on the burning ground
Dump it down there
Yeh man, dump the jute
Hey man dump the jute on the burning ground
Dump the jute?
Yeh you know, dump the jute
Dump the jute!
On the burning ground
On the burning ground
And you make me think what its all about
Sometimes I know gonna work it out
And I watch you run in the crimson sun
Tear my shirt apart open up my heart
And I watch you run
Down on your bended knees
By the burnt out well
Can you tell me please
Between heaven and hell
Wont you take me down
To the burning ground, to the burning ground
To the burning ground, to the burning ground
And you fall and pray, when you hear that sound
As were walking back to the burial mound
And you shake your head and you turn it around
And you see the flames from the burning ground
And you get down on your knees and pray
And I catch my breath as were running away
And I take the jute and I throw him down
On the burning ground, on the burning ground
On the burning ground, its on the burning ground.....
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Man with a Guitar
Men talk on the public square,
Pigeons eat on the sidewalk and fly,
Women flirt and feed the pigeons.
Men, envious of pigeons,
Desire more attention from the women
But women only notice birds who know how to sing.
There comes a nightingale that starts singing
And attention moves from pigeons to nightingales;
There comes a man with a guitar, and he starts playing
And singing like a nightingale.
A woman allured by these new sounds
Forgets the pigeons and nightingales;
She shyly starts to sing
And turns to a man with a guitar.
poem by Dejan Stojanovic
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I look at ANWR (Artic National Wildlife Refuge) as a poison pill in the energy bill.
quote by Ben Nelson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Down A Peg
You took me
Down down down
Down a peg
Thank you
For taking me down a peg
Thank you
Its true
My position had gone to my head
Thank you
Like some commissionaire who has ideas above his station
Or some jumped up councillor who think hes lord of creation
You took me down down down down a peg
Down down down down a peg
Thank you
For bringing my feet to the floor
Thank you
Its true
My head wouldnt go through the door
Thank you
Sometimes this job puts you so high you forget your roots now
Only my folks see Im getting too big for my boots now
You took me down down down down a peg
Down down down down a peg
Down down down down a peg
Thank you
For taking me down a peg
(you took me down down down down a peg)
Thank you
Its true
My position had gone to my head
(you took me down down down down a peg)
Thank you
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Down A Peg
You took me
Down down down
Down a peg
Thank you
For taking me down a peg
Thank you
Its true
My position had gone to my head
Thank you
Like some commissionaire who has ideas above his station
Or some jumped up councillor who think hes lord of creation
You took me down down down down a peg
Down down down down a peg
Thank you
For bringing my feet to the floor
Thank you
Its true
My head wouldnt go through the door
Thank you
Sometimes this job puts you so high you forget your roots now
Only my folks see Im getting too big for my boots now
You took me down down down down a peg
Down down down down a peg
Down down down down a peg
Thank you
For taking me down a peg
(you took me down down down down a peg)
Thank you
Its true
My position had gone to my head
(you took me down down down down a peg)
Thank you
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Motor Car
The motor car is sullen, like a thing that should not be;
The motor car is master of Smart Society.
’Twas born of sweated genius and collared by a clown;
’Twas planned by Retribution to ride its riders down.
And straight for Caesar’s Column,
It runs to Caesar’s Column,
Last section, Caesar’s Column
To ride its riders down!
The motor car is shame-struck, for greed and misery,
For mad and hopeless self-lust, and the sins that need not be.
The motor car is vicious, for its conscience makes it so,
It aye would smash the victims while it runs the riders low.
And straight for Caesar’s Column,
Its goal is Caesar’s Column,
It longs for Caesar’s Column
To lay its riders low.
The motor car is maddened like a horse that’s had a fright,
The shameful day behind it and the Coming of the Night!
It flees across the country and it flees back to the town
And straight for Caesar’s Column to run its riders down.
And straight for Caesar’s Column,
What ho! for Caesar’s Column!
Hurrah! for Caesar’s Column!
To seal its riders down.
The motor car is reckless like a gambler losing fast;
The motor car’s in terror of the Future—and the Past;
The motor car is worn out and has passed Sin’s boundary by,
And is bound for Caesar’s Column where to pile its riders high.
It’s bound for Caesar’s Column
And marked for Caesar’s Column,
And doomed for Caesar’s Column
To pile its riders high.
The motor car is brainless, and scornful of all tears,
Its dust is in our faces, its giggle in our ears,
Its harsh laugh is the last laugh of the last lost soul alone,
’Tis nearing Caesar’s Column to set self-damned in stone.
Change here for Caesar’s Column!
All out for Caesar’s Column!
Past Hope—and Caesar’s Column
To lodge self-damned in stone.
I don’t know how ’twill happen, or when ’twill come to pass,
But folk shall yet pass sanely by river, tree and grass;
By homesteads and farm wagons, they’ll ride each pleasant mile,
And back from Caesar’s Column where the world went mad awhile.
And back from Caesar’s Column
With lessons from the Column;
Grown sane at Caesar’s Column
To save the world awhile.
poem by Henry Lawson
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No Child
I HEARD in the night the pigeons
Stirring within their nest:
The wild pigeons' stir was tender,
Like a child's hand at the breast.
I cried 'O stir no more!
(My breast was touched with tears).
O pigeons, make no stir
A childless woman hears.'
poem by Padraic Colum
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I would love to be in musical theater and be on Broadway. If someone were to offer me a position to do something like that, I wouldnt pass it down. Im a huge fan of musicals and I really want to do that.
quote by Michelle Branch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb.
quote by Nelson Mandela
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Metaphor Of The Pigeons Cooing
pigeons live inside the ceiling
taking the entrance at the broken side of the gutter
i can hear them coo
some eggs hatch and some fledglings
are cooing
one day i have not heard of them anymore
and the rats are singing
like pigeons cooing
these rats wanting to get attention
tomorrow i will take away the gutter
so the pigeons will know that we are missing them
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soon I worked during twelve years in theater works of the prestigious Theatre National Populaire. It was the best time of my life, the most difficult, the most interesting, the most exciting.
quote by Maurice Jarre
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Pledge
I pledge allegiance to national flag
Let there be any attempt to tarnish the image or drag
It shall remain super most in my mind
I am not novice so not to understand and go blind
How many people have shed their blood for motherland?
How many might have perished in foreign land
For upholding the national pride and honor
What might have they expected in return for?
I am for sure many might have perished unsung?
No national anthem might have been aired or sung
Yet we owe our head in their honor for brave front
This is what all citizens expect from soldiers or want
Today we are free country with all liberal thoughts
On national front we have undergone sufferings when fought
No one wanted any material benefit but only free air
Have we given them what they wanted as fair share?
Motherland is compared to a beautiful and sacred lady
Love and respect shown for all the time from everybody
No one can think of harming national interest?
It is expected and desired even more as best
We have forgotten our past
We have lost the trust
Our head bows down in shame
Where to go and whom to blame?
The beautiful lady, motherland we call, is torn apart
She has been taken off cloths and divided in parts
Who can claim they have national interest at heart?
Can any one think of making again a noble start?
No, nothing will be done
Past golden days are for memory to remain
Flowers will laid as mark of respect once in year
Everybody is afraid and gripped of fear
We are killing our own brethrens
Poor are dying everyday without much concern
This is welfare state we enshrined?
Was that the show for later on to be fined?
We have created position to corner the wealth
Compromised with nature and helped to deteriorate health
It is world boxing match to attract more people
To pay for the show and invite more trouble
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hold Your Position (Stones)
Now here comes the great musical thing called "hold your position"
Rasta, them style ya a just levelment Uncle seen
Hold me position, Just a hold me position
I ya, hold me position, just a hold me position
Go on, hold me position, just a hold me position
Just like Jesus Christ in the valley of decision
Devil come along and tru to deceive man through him
Got him plan from the older one
Him had to hold him position, had to hold him position yeh
Hold him position, had to hold him position
Well rhythm like this makes me and me daughter
Go down at the dance, bubble on the corner
When the rhythm is sweet, we a go hold tighter
Rub-adub like this makes you go one
So you hold your position
Say you hold you position aya
Hold your position, say hold your position
Things and time was a getting slow let off the rhythm
Let the good time roll
Don't bother go a slow and stay a back row
I man come to make the rhythm
Just a rock and flow, because me hold me position
Just a hold me position
Special request to 39 Acker Tree, Frontline, everyman on Kime
UB40 say come and rhyme
Yes, Daddy Stone, me in the dance hall style
So we really come to make it versatile
Because one of a kind we come to blow your mind
So you should hold you position
Yes, hold your position, aya
Hold your position, hold your position
Hold Your Position (cont'd) Stones
Skank steady, Skank Steady
I tell you rock the rhythm
You should skank down steady
You know you say, it heavier than lead
Kinda tougher than tough
You know that Jah, Jah covers
Since he stands over us
So hold your position
Hold your position
Move to the east, and you could a move to the west
Lyrics like this Jab know never go jest
Say chunk ice water say right to your chest
Intercity, outer city everywhere the best you better
Hold you position, just hold your position
Hold you position, say hold your position
Well rhythm like this is really so hot
Let off the vilse because a legal shot
Because we hold our position
Yes, we hold our position aya
Hold our position yes, hold our position
Hold on tight never let go
Tee, ta, tee, say them all in a row
Donkey want water, you should hold him
Joe hold on tight and never let go
Hold your position, just hold your position
Hold your position a ya, just hold your position
Wah dat, hold your position
I say hold your position settle hold your position John
Hold you position Aunty, hold your position
Say hold your position go on
Hold your position, tell them rhythm so crucial
Rhythm so nice like sugar, like a spice
Cause when we a come a dance give you rough, nough, choice
A youth like me should a drive Rolls Royce
Sugar my tea baby, you're irie thought the two of us
Will go to bed cosy
Just a hold me position, hold me position
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poisoning Pigeons In The Park
Planned it all out mate,
put these pigeons through sore straights.
Should teach them a lesson or two,
of where to dropp their doo.
Planned it all out mate,
put it in the bread crate,
took it to the park and fed,
all the pigeons till they were dead.
'Tis our favourite pass time,
my honey and I.
I'll not take it for such a crime,
they're pigeons after all, who'll cry?
Gave 'em a little bit of cyanide,
and threw some mercury in for good measure,
maybe people will think it suicide,
or view their deaths as a great pleasure.
poem by Soren Valentine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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