Some mornings, it's just not worth chewing through the leather straps.
quote by Emo Philips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some mornings it just doesn't seem worth it to gnaw through the leather straps.
quote by Emo Phillips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chewing Gum
chewing gum
wondering where i've been and what i've done
wondering where i'll go and where i'll run
hide myself away from everyone
chewing gum
doesn't ['does it'] bother you that you're not the one
keeps you up at night in a fear of dream
to count the silver bullet of your misty
it's yours to keep
chewing gum
innocence lost in electric smiles
perfectly cast in desperate clouds ['colds']
loving with under
city lights
with all their {miles}
and all i need
is you
by my side
by my side
by my side
chewing gum
wondering where i've been and what i've done
wondering where i'll go and where i'll run
hide myself away from everyone
chewing gum
got myself a piece of
chewing gum
got myself a piece of
chewing gum
got myself a piece of
chewing gum
got myself a piece of
chewing gum
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Light Shoes with Straps
In Aruba I bought a pair of sandals, with leather straps and
shiny steel buckles; I wore them with white ankle socks.
Coming home from the sea in June no one in my town had
sandals like mine. Mind, not much call for sandals in
Liverpool, winter rain, soggy streets, hailstones and so on.
When I went back to sea, I left the sandals under my bed
to wear when returning, but when I came back brother had
worn them to death, broken straps and rusty buckles.
I was very sad, but then I met a girl called Sandra and since
it was October, too cold for sandals and white ankle socks,
I got over the loss.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Little Coat
Here's his ragged 'roundabout';
Turn the pockets inside out:
See; his pen-knife, lost to use,
Rusted shut with apple-juice;
Here, with marbles, top and string,
Is his deadly 'devil-sling,'
With its rubber, limp at last
As the sparrows of the past!
Beeswax--buckles--leather straps--
Bullets, and a box of caps,--
Not a thing of all, I guess,
But betrays some waywardness--
E'en these tickets, blue and red,
For the Bible-verses said--
Such as this his mem'ry kept--
'Jesus wept.'
Here's a fishing hook-and-line,
Tangled up with wire and twine,
And dead angle-worms, and some
Slugs of lead and chewing-gum,
Blent with scents that can but come
From the oil of rhodium.
Here--a soiled, yet dainty note,
That some little sweetheart wrote,
Dotting,--'Vine grows round the stump,'
And--'My sweetest sugar lump!'
Wrapped in this--a padlock key
Where he's filed a touch-hole--see!
And some powder in a quill
Corked up with a liver pill;
And a spongy little chunk
Of 'punk.'
Here's the little coat--but O!
Where is he we've censured so!
Don't you hear us calling, dear?
Back! come back, and never fear.--
You may wander where you will,
Over orchard, field and hill;
You may kill the birds, or do
Anything that pleases you!
Ah, this empty coat of his!
Every tatter worth a kiss;
Every stain as pure instead
As the white stars overhead:
And the pockets--homes were they
Of the little hands that play
Now no more--but, absent, thus
Beckon us.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Chewing Gum (Fun Poem 46)
I enjoy chewing gum
it takes my mind off cigarettes,
but because I have false teeth.
(I lost the real ones years ago)
Chewing gum become like chewing super glue.
When it sticks, boy does it stick.
You stand in the bathroom
completely and utterly gummy
scraping the gum of your dentures.
So now, my motto is
if you have dentures
suck on a hard-boiled sweet,
they don’t stick to your teeth.
poem by David Harris
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Grandma's Wedding Shoes
I’m getting ready
For the garage sale tomorrow.
My grandma passed away
A few weeks ago.
She was a collector of things
You would never know.
I am thinking to sell.
Her pair of wedding shoes
She wore one morning
Sixty years ago
Walking slowly
In a long tailed wedding gown,
Holding a bouquet of flowers in her one hand
While her father held her other hand,
Soon to be given away to her beaux,
Walking beside her, proud, smiling,
In a wedding tuxedo.
Could she have wildly imagined then,
Thirty years later,
Her unwed daughter
Would give me up for adoption
Shortly after I was born?
My mom, a poor mother,
Could not face rasing me up.
I look at the pair of shoes,
They still look new to me.
She saved them as a treasure
In the original box, tucked
Under her wedding grown,
In her old leather suitcase
Made in some small,
Now a non-existent Texas’ town.
The shoes are high heeled,
Light brown, each with two leather straps
To go around ankles,
Some sort of a hybrid
Of dress shoes and sandals,
High fashion luxury of grandma’s days.
I look at them again
And I change my mind.
I will not sell them,
They are worth a fortune to me.
Sixty years ago,
After, “ I do, I do”,
The choir boy rang
the wedding bells
On top of the steeple.
That moment, my grandma
Was wearing these shoes.
poem by Ravi Kopra
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Hell Bent For Leather
Seek him here, seek him on the highway
Never knowing when hell appear
All await, engines ticking over
Hear the roar as they sense the fear
Wheels! a glint of steel and a flash of light!
Screams! from a streak of fire as he strikes!
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Black as night, faster than a shadowcrimson flare from a raging sun
An exhibition, of sheer precision
Yet no one knows from where he comes
Fools! self destruct cannot take that crown
Dreams! crash one by one to the ground
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Theres many who tried to prove that theyre faster
But they didnt last and they died as they tried
Theres many who tried to prove that theyre faster
But they didnt last and they died as they tried
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our Cow
Down by the slipralls stands our cow
Chewing, chewing, chewing,
She does not care what folks out there
In the great, big world are doing.
She sees the small cloud-shadows pass
And green grass shining under.
If she does think, what does she think
About it all, I wonder?
She sees the swallows skimming by
Above the sweet young clover,
The light reeds swaying in the wind
And tall trees bending over.
Far down the track she hears the crack
of bullock-whips, and raving
Of angry men where, in the sun,
Her fellow-beasts are slaving.
Girls, we are told, can scratch and scold,
And boys will fight and wrangle,
And big, grown men, just now and then,
Fret o'er some fingle-fangle,
Vexing the earth with grief or mirth,
Longing, rejoicing, rueing -
But by the slipralls stands our cow,
Chewing.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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These Lazy Mornings, Thi Lovely Self...
there are mornings that are very much like us
lazy, do not want to wake up, light spreads in bed, and fresh air
fills the air and sings in our ears
yet
we cover our eyes, we refuse, we
curl our legs, and bury our eyes on the pillow
these mornings are nameless and they are many
some of these mornings are fruits of those sleeping pills
because some nights are cruel insomniacs that hide from us
the gifts of sleep,
i like to hate mornings like these
and i may hate it till evening
but i have already made a promise to understand all these
stupid mornings and
just be patient and let go off them
i write once, that i may hate everything including these lazy mornings that shy away from light and air
but i must spare this self that
after all i do not really exclusively own.
and so this is it:
i hate this lazy, stupid morning, but i shall never
hate myself:
i am sleepy, i am beautiful, i am lovely and witty after all.
you may sing tonight with me:
this love of self, this greatest love of all.
Do not misinterpret it for arrogance, pride or conceit,
albeit, i must tell you,
this is just a good gadget for moving on
into a sweet and kind survival.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dear friends, we surely all agree
'Dear friends, we surely all agree
There's almost nothing worse to see
Than some repulsive little bum
Who's always chewing chewing gum.
(It's very near as bad as those
Who sit around and pick the nose).
So please believe us when we say
That chewing gum will never pay;
This sticky habit's bound to send
The chewer to a sticky end.
Did any of you ever know
A person called Miss Bigelow?
This dreadful woman saw no wrong
In chewing, chewing all day long.
She chewed while bathing in the tub,
She chewed while dancing at her club,
She chewed in church and on the bus;
It really was quite ludicrous!
And when she couldn't find her gum,
She'd chew up the linoleum,
Or anything that happened near–
A pair of boots, the postman's ear,
Or other people's underclothes,
And once she chewed her boy friend's nose.
She went on chewing till, at last,
Her chewing muscles grew so vast
That from her face her giant chin
Stuck out just like a violin.
For years and years she chewed away,
Consuming fifty packs a day,
Until one summer's eve, alas,
A horrid business came to pass.
Miss Bigelow went late to bed,
For half an hour she lay and read,
Chewing and chewing all the while
Like some great clockwork crocodile.
At last, she put her gum away
Upon a special little tray,
And settled back and went to sleep–
(She managed this by counting sheep).
But now, how strange! Although she slept,
Those massive jaws of hers still kept
On chewing, chewing through the night,
Even with nothing there to bite.
They were, you see, in such a groove
They positively had to move.
And very grim it was to hear
In pitchy darkness, loud and clear,
This sleeping woman's great big trap
Opening and shutting, snap–snap–snap!
Faster and faster, chop–chop–chop,
The noise went on, it wouldn't stop.
Until at last her jaws decide
To pause and open extra wide,
And with the most tremendous chew
They bit the lady's tongue in two.
Thereafter, just from chewing gum,
Miss Bigelow was always dumb,
And spent her life shut up in some
Disgusting sanatorium.
And that is why we'll try so hard
To save Miss Violet Beauregard
From suffering an equal fate.
She's still quite young. It's not too late,
Provided she survives the cure.
We hope she does. We can't be sure.'
poem by Roald Dahl
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Nebraska
I saw her standin on her front lawn just twirlin her baton
Me and her went for a ride sir and ten innocent people died
From the town of lincoln nebraska with a sawed-off .410 on my lap
Through to the badlands of wyoming I killed everything in my path
I cant say that Im sorry for the things that we done
At least for a little while sir me and her we had us some fun
The jury brought in a guilty verdict and the judge he sentenced me to death
Midnight in a prison storeroom with leather straps across my chest
Sheriff when the man pulls that switch sir and snaps my poor neck back
You make sure my pretty baby is sittin right there on my lap
They declared me unfit to live said into that great void my sould
Be hurled
They wanted to know why I did what I did
Well sir I guess theres just a meanness in this world
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Be Courteous
to be courteous
to this society where i live
i pocket my smile
i swallow my pride
you see me chewing a gum
and you order me
to swallow it
because you don't like seeing me
chewing this mint
i swallow it
in your name
and behave as though nothing happened
no i will not tell anybody
i will not tell about you or your name
i will not retaliate
i will just write
this poem
if you call this a poem at all
this shame
and this shamelessness of you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A girl in leather shoes
I am a girl in leather shoes
without socks, a girl who has
no need of socks, a girl
who has few friends-
but doesn't need any.
A strong girl, with real opinions
in her head; sockless in her leather shoes,
a girl whose stride is purposeful,
feet secure inside the leather,
a girl who wears nothing artificial,
who takes in nothing not genuine-
And if she should ever sweat,
this brave, sockless girl,
who knows exactly where she is going
safe in her leather
and her strong opinions-
she would never, never let it show.
poem by Patti Masterman
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My shoes
My shoes were brought to me on order
from Zimbabwe by a missionary,
a man who sell bibles
and sometimes give them away,
just before Robert Mugabe
did root out the manufacturers and sellers
and the rest of my order went to waste
with another pair of buffalo leather shoes
and a buffalo leather jacket as well.
The black handmade elephant leather shoes
do tread far roads with me,
they try to walk on the tracks
of my deceased father,
try to stand up with integrity
like my late grandmother wanted.
The other day I had them re-soled,
to lay down some more tracks
and the elephant leather
might last a life time
and I wonder how the future
folds open before them?
poem by Gert Strydom
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It is easier to put leather on the soles of one's feet than cover the world with leather.
The Man In The Dead Machine
High on a slope in New Guinea
The Grumman Hellcat
lodges among bright vines
as thick as arms. In 1943,
the clenched hand of a pilot
glided it here
where no one has ever been.
In the cockpit, the helmeted
skeleton sits
upright, held
by dry sinews at neck
and shoulder, and webbing
that straps the pelvic cross
to the cracked
leather of the seat, and the breastbone
to the canvas cover
of the parachute.
Or say the shrapnel
missed him, he flew
back to the carrier, and every
morning takes the train, his pale
hands on the black case, and sits
upright, held
by the firm webbing.
poem by Donald Hall
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Slap Leather
Take all the money that we need for school
And to keep the street people in out of the cold
Spend it on a weapon you can never use
Make the world an offer that they cant refuse
Open up the door and let the shark-men feed
Hoover of the future in the land of greed
Sell the ponderosa to the japanese
Slap leather, head for that line of trees, yeah
Slap leather
Go on ron
Just about to go myself
Turn the whole wide world into a tv show
So its just the same game wherever you go
You never meet a soul that you dont already know
One big advertisement for the status quo
As if these celebrities were your close friends
As if you knew how the story ends
As if you werent sitting in a room alone
And there was somebody real at the other end of the phone, yeah
Squibnocket
Phone sex
Just about to dial your number
Get all worked up so we can go to war
We find something worth killing for
Tie a yellow ribbon around your eyes
Big mcfalafel and a side of fries
Yeah, big mcfalafel
Stormin norman
I just love a parade
Slap leather
Phone love
Big mcfalafel
Just about to dial myself
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Leather Rebel
Hero of the night.
Blood and thunder rushing through me
Till the dawn of light
The sky is turning red
Like a renegade
All alone I walk through fire
Till I crash and blaze
I'm living on the edge
Start a chain reaction
Sears the neon light
Stealing all the action
Always takes the fight
Leather Rebel
Lightning in the dark
Leather Rebel
With a burning heart
Master of the streets
Bullet proof and bound for glory
Cities at my feet
I'm turning on the power
Running wild and free
No-one dares to stand before me
That's my destiny
To rule the darkest hours
I can see my future:
Writings on the wall
Legend in my lifetime
Stories will recall
Leather Rebel
Lightning in the dark
Leather Rebel
With a burning heart
I can see my future:
Writings on the wall
Legend in my lifetime
Stories will recall
Leather Rebel
Lightning in the dark
Leather Rebel
With a burning heart
Leather Rebel
song performed by by Judas Priest from Painkiller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Songbird
Songbird who is it for?
The death of love
Or new mornings' birth
That feeling that ran from my door
You captured
And retained its worth
Though lost forever to me
Two young lovers
Stand under your tree.
poem by Kevin East
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Les Boys
Les boys do cabaret
Les boys are glad to be gay
Theyre not afraid now
Disco bar in germany
Les boys are glad to be
Upon parade now
Les boys got leather straps
Les boys got ss caps
But they got no gun now
Get dressed up get a little risque
Got to do a little s & m these days
Its all in fun now
Les boys come on again
For the high class whores
And the businessmen
Who drive in their mercedes benz
To a disco bar in old munchen
They get the jokes that the d.j. makes
They get nervous and they make mistakes
Theyre bad for business
Some tourist take a photograph
Les boys dont get one laugh
He says theyre useless
Late at night when theyre gone away
Les boys dream of jean genet
High heel shoes and a black beret
And the posters on the wall that say
Les boys do cabaret
Les boys are glad to be gay
song performed by by Dire Straits
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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