Men simply copied the realities of their hearts when they built prisons.
quote by Richard Wright
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Related quotes
After the revolution, let us hope, prisons simply would not exist - if by prisons we mean places that could be experienced by the men and women in them at all as every place that goes by that name now is bound to be experienced.
quote by Barbara Deming
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some Prisons Don't Have Walls
As I walk down this busy street
I think about your leaving
How my life may never be the same
I know I should be planning ways
To enjoy this endless freedom
Losing you has put my heart in chains.
Darling, some prisons don't have walls
Your memory won't let me go at all
I found no way out since you've been gone
Some prisons don't have walls.
Every night I turn the tv on
To break the sound of silence
For a while it takes you off my mind
Just when I feel over you reality surrounds me.
There I am right back doing time.
Darling, some prisons don't have walls
Your memory won't let me go at all
I found no way out since you've been gone
Some prisons don't have walls...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prisons are built with stones of Law. Brothels with the bricks of religion.
quote by William Blake
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First of all, I didn't suggest that we should simply get rid of all prisons.
quote by Angela Davis
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The Day, And The Coming Day!
we are the day,
and the coming day.
the cities painted with despair,
the houses built left abandoned.
the seeds we altered,
the trees we cut down.
the mountains we mined,
and the seas we defiled.
the peoples we left homeless,
left to die in poverty and hunger.
the ships we sent to the moon,
the smoke from the great factories.
the daughters we sold into slavery,
the sons we executed on profit's battlefields.
the lie, the drug, and the drug of the lie!
the temples we built
to gods that taught us to kill.
the prophets we killed with righteous indignation.
the bodies we left in our prisons of justice,
the flags we wore to defile our hearts.
we are the day,
and the coming day.
now skies have turned grey,
the air filled with our empty!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Saviour reigned in all their hearts, and they successfully copied the pattern of meekness and gentleness, which he had left them.
quote by John Strachan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What A Writer
what i liked about e.e. cummings
was that he cut away from
the holiness of the
word
and with charm
and gamble
gave us lines
that sliced through the
dung.
how it was needed!
how we were withering
away
in the old
tired
manner.
of course, then came all
the e.e. cummings
copyists.
they copied him then
as the others had
copied Keats, Shelly,
Swinburne, Byron, et
al.
but there was only
one
e.e. cummings.
of course.
one sun.
one moon.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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Nothing was a style first. Everything started as an idea. A guy did something with an idea. Someone copied him. Some copied all of them and it became trendy and then it became a style.
quote by Bill Laswell
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Realities
Many fears,
Many tears,
Many years,
Many wears;
It's all about life when,
One faces the realities.
Birth, school, work and death;
The realities of life to keep on growing,
There is no hiding place from here.
The muse of a Bard,
The ink of a Writer,
The brush of an Artist;
To face the realities of life like,
The teacher and the student.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Pawned
'What is this? '
That is a box of my realities.
'This is worthless stuff.
We can not use this here.
All of it is rusted gold plated crap.
What do you think we can do with that? '
You took my other things I pawned.
'We knew you were coming back.
Now...
Those realities you want us to believe...
Can not do a thing for us!
We fed our needs for a while...
Providing you a fix to return to get your realities.
But no one comes to us with a bail out,
To recycle greed.
Even your pleas are worthless!
If you had chafing pans or dishes,
Sterno and a box of matches...
With a manual can opener,
You got yourself a deal! '
Those are utensils the 'help' would use!
'Well,
You need to go find where that 'help' is.
It ain't here! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Beyond Our Prison Walls
our prisons are too many
the penalties imposed upon us
are heavy
everything is passed from one mouth
to another
this prison of tradition
and what we have are just kettles and
ladles
a few spoons and some
crooked forks
some moldy fats of pork
and hardened bread like bricks
upon our walls and rooms
i am tired of those other prisons
handed to us and
well kept by our respect for what
is old
the mind is the prison
and thoughts and imagination are our wings to our well deserved freedom
we do not deserve this
weakness this self imposed defeat
we are not worms
we butterflies and all these fragile wings
shall take us
beyond the tops of molded hills
beyond us
our better selves
our very own proclamations that we are not the children and heirs
of gods
but that we too
are godly creatures with divinity in our hearts
our sacrileges tattooed on our skins and bones
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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There are intangible realities which float near us, formless and without words; realities which no one has thought out, and which are excluded for lack of interpreters.
quote by Natalie Clifford Barney
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Fragment: Milton's Spirit
I dreamed that Milton's spirit rose, and took
From life's green tree his Uranian lute;
And from his touch sweet thunder flowed, and shook
All human things built in contempt of man,--
And sanguine thrones and impious altars quaked,
Prisons and citadels...
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Your Trip
whats a trip to you when youre taking it
is it simply enhanced emotional response
erratic irrational bursts of hilarious humor
serious self enhancement, truth seeking
exciting psychedelic visual stimulations
fear filled loathing of ego and illusions
frothing hatred for unconfirmed realities
take your pick, it's all up to you're choice
wherever you are, it's just you present
every little trip you take is another pick
your subconscious, realities agreed upon
if you agree with yourself, say it out loud
you solidify your belief in the reality of it
force yourself into a belief created by you
your trips up to you, you're in control
the music is as good as you want it to be
theres enough people here if you believe
the love or friendship you have is in you
materialize it into your agreeable forms
conform and confirm it into a happy shape
apply it to everything, it's all a trip.
poem by Gregory Crockatt
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Hypotheses
Hypotheses
History is completed with hypotheses;
Metaphysics are built up with hypotheses;
Science and discovery have followed suit.
Hypotheses are parts of realities.
07.10.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The world is seldom what it seems; to man, who dimly sees, realities appear as dreams, and dreams realities.
quote by Samuel Johnson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Built This City
Chorus:
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Say you dont know me or recognize my face
Say you dont care who goes to that kind of place
Knee deep in the hoopla sinking in your fight
Too many runaways eating up the night
Marconi plays the mamba, listen to the radio, dont you remember
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Chorus:
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Someone always playing corporation games
Who cares theyre always changing corporation names
We just want to dance here someone stole the stage
They call us irresponsible write us off the page
Marconi plays the mamba, listen to the radio, dont you remember
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Its just another sunday, in a tired old street
Police have got the choke hold, oh then we just lost the beat
Who counts the money underneath the bar
Who rides the wrecking ball in two rock guitars
Dont tell us you need us, cos were the ship of fools
Looking for america, coming through your schools
(Im looking out over that golden gate bridge
Out on another gorgeous sunny saturday, not seein that bumper to bumper traffic)
Dont you remember (member)(member)
(whats your favorite radio station, in your favorite radio city
The city by the bay, the city that rocks, the city that never sleeps)
Marconi plays the mamba, listen to the radio, dont you remember
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
(we built, we built this city) built this city (we built, we built this city)
(repeats out)
song performed by by Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Was A Bustlemaker Once, Girls
When I was a lad of twenty and was working in High Street, Ken.,
I made quite a pile in a very little while - I was a bustle maker then.
Then there was work in plenty, and I was a thriving man
But things have decayed in the bustle making trade, since the bustle making trade began.
I built bustles with a will then, I made bustles with a wit,
I made bustles as a Yankee hustles, simply for the love of it.
I built bustles with a skill then, surpassed, they say, by none,
But those were the days when bustles were the craze, and now those days are done.
I was a bustle maker once, girls, many many years ago,
I put my heart in the bustle maker's art and I don't mind saying so.
I may have had the brains of a dunce, girls, I may have had the mind of a muff,
I may have been plain and deficient in the brain but I did know a bustle maker's stuff.
I built bustles for the slender, I built bustles for the stout,
I built bustles for the girls with muscles, and bustles for the girls without.
I built bustles by the thousands, in the good old days of yore,
But things have decayed in the bustle making trade and I don't build bustles any more.
Many were the models worn once; but mine were unique, tis said,
No rival design was so elegant as mine; I was a bustle maker bred.
I was a bustle maker born once, an artist through and through,
But things have decayed in the bustle making trade
And what can a bustle maker do?
I built bustles to enchant, girls, I built bustles to amaze,
I built bustles for the skirt that rustles, and bustles for the skirt that sways.
I built bustles for my aunt, girls, when other business fled,
But a bustle maker can't make bustles for his aunt when a bustle maker's aunt is dead.
I was a bustle maker once, girls, once in the days gone by,
I lost my heart to the bustle maker's art, and that I don't deny.
I may have had the brains of a dunce, girls, as many men appear to suppose,
I may have been obtuse and of little other use
But I could make a bustle when I chose.
I built bustles for the bulging, I built bustles for the lithe,
I built bustles for the girls in Brussels and bustles for the girls in Hythe.
I built bustles for all Europe once, but I've been badly hit,
Things have decayed in the bustle making trade
And that it the truth of it.
poem by Patrick Barrington
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I went down to post a letter
I went down to post a letter
Through the garden, through the garden.
All the lovely stars were shining
As I went.
They were free as I, unhappy
Only he to whom the letter
Must be sent.
Even stars forget the prisons,
Stars and clouds and moonlit waters,
I believe the wind would shun them
If it could.
He at least rebels, remembers
Dawn breaks eastward, where the prisons
Erstwhile stood.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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Pondering
Feeling like there's no escape into a perfect opportunity. Scared to learn a new things but lost in a prophet, filled with anger and fueled with hidden hate with my life built on tragedy. Hoping for a new day built on brightness of spirits of the hearts all around me based on truth and honesty, and never worrying about keeping my dreams alive
poem by Joelz Hernandez
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