My father was a small-town banker. He became very ill when I was 10 years old, and we went to California three years later in an attempt to recover his health, which never happened.
quote by Warren Christopher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Small Town
Well I was born in a small town
And I live in a small town
Probly die in a small town
Oh, those small communities
All my friends are so small town
My parents live in the same small town
My job is so small town
Provides little opportunity
Educated in a small town
Taught the fear of jesus in a small town
Used to daydream in that small town
Another boring romantic thats me
But Ive seen it all in a small town
Had myself a ball in a small town
Married an l.a. doll and brought her to this small town
Now shes small town just like me
No I cannot forget where it is that I come from
I cannot forget the people who love me
Yeah, I can be myself here in this small town
And people let me be just what I want to be
Got nothing against a big town
Still hayseed enough to say
Look whos in the big town
But my bed is in a small town
Oh, and thats good enough for me
Well I was born in a small town
And I can breathe in a small town
Gonna die in this small town
And thats probly where theyll bury me
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Smalltown
When youre growing up in a small town
When youre growing up in a small town
When youre growing up in a small town
You say, no one famous ever came from here
When youre growing up in a small town
And youre having a nervous breakdown
And you think that youll never escape it
Yourself or the place that you live
Where did picasso come from
Theres no michelangelo coming from pittsburgh
If art is the tip of the iceberg
Im the part sinking below
When youre growing up in a small town
Bad skin, bad eyes, gay and fatty
People look at you funny
When youre in a small town
My father worked in construction
Its not something for which Im suited
Oh, what is something for which you are suited
Getting out of here
I hate being odd in a small town
If they stare let them stare in new york city
As this pink eyed painting albino
How far can my fantasy go
Im no dali coming from pittsburgh
No adorable lisping capote
My hero, oh, do you think I could meet him
Id camp out at his front door
There is only one good thing about small town
There is only one good use for a small town
There is only one good thing about small town
You know that you want to get out
When youre growing up in a small town
You know youll grow down in a small town
There is only one good use for a small town
You hate it and youll know you have to leave
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nothing has happened in Macondo, nothing has ever happened, and nothing ever will happen. This is a happy town.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez in One Hundred Years of Solitude (1967), translated by Gregory Rabassa
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Wonderland
Would you come and look around
See the motion and circle round
Feel it whirl through the fields
All the years we wandered about
And let our youth strip us out
Now lock up the door to indignation
As all appears to recover
(would you come-look around-see the motion-circle round)
All appears to recover
(all the years we wandered about-let our youth-strip us out-come with me)
Here we are in wonder left with all left to discover
Will you stay watch by me
As all appears to recover
(would you come-look around-see the motion-circle round)
All appears to recover
(all the years we wandered about-let our youth-strip us out-come with me-break out)
As all appears to recover
(would you come-look around-see the motion-circle round)
All appears to recover
(all the years we wandered about-let our youth-strip us out-come with me-break out)
All appears to discover
(see the motion-circle round-come with me-break out
song performed by by Xymox
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wonderland
Would you come and look around
See the motion and circle round
Feel it whirl through the fields
All the years we wandered about
And let our youth strip us out
Now lock up the door to indignation
As all appears to recover
(would you come-look around-see the motion-circle round)
All appears to recover
(all the years we wandered about-let our youth-strip us out-come with me)
Here we are in wonder left with all left to discover
Will you stay watch by me
As all appears to recover
(would you come-look around-see the motion-circle round)
All appears to recover
(all the years we wandered about-let our youth-strip us out-come with me-break out)
As all appears to recover
(would you come-look around-see the motion-circle round)
All appears to recover
(all the years we wandered about-let our youth-strip us out-come with me-break out)
All appears to discover
(see the motion-circle round-come with me-break out
song performed by by Xymox
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Father & Son
There is the family photograph
That is your father’s face,
There is your father’s father
Grey-gathering years apace;
The son, bright-eyed in the morning,
The father, lined and drawn,
The son became the father
On the day that you were born.
We’ve all set out on the highway
Our fathers wished us well,
The sons became the fathers
In the same distinctive spell;
The road of all beginnings
Is all there is to lend,
But many a twist, and many a turn
Has marred us at the end.
He was my father’s father,
I am my father’s son,
We’ve travelled as far, and farther
Than our father’s years have run;
The twists and turns of fortune
Mean nothing, lost or won,
But the love of a father’s father,
And the love of a father’s son.
3 September 1977
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Billy Of One Hand
His left hand severed just below the elbow
And the nickname for him 'Billy of one hand'
And he still feels quite angry with his father
And why this should be not hard to understand.
It happened when Billy was just four years old
The day his father took him to the zoo
He wandered towards a cage his dad not looking
And an angry tiger bit his hand in two.
But Billy will put no blame on the tiger
A tiger just wild animal he say
And for what happened to me I must blame my father
I see my hand and hate him every day.
I watched him as a young boy beat my mother
'Thanks be to god from us he went away'
I can't remember any good about him
And only darkest memories of him stay.
He left my mum to live with his new lover
To cheat and domineer to him seemed fair
Ten years or maybe more since I've last seen him
And where he live I do not know or care.
'Billy of one hand' his given nickname
And the worst day of his life was at the zoo
He strayed off whilst his father wasn't looking
And an angry tiger bit his hand in two.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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(Go To) California
Blonde haired baby standing by the road
A pistol in her hand and talking on the phone
Said go to California (go to California)
Go to California (go to California)
Sidewalk gazing diamonds in the sky
Silent movie Gods are flashing in your eye
Said go to California (go to California)
Go to California (go to California)
Get up get out
Get inside the outside
Get up get out get in
Get up get out
Get inside the outside
Get up get out get in
Lon Chaney calling
Spelling out your name
Where everybody's different
But they're all the same
Yeah go to California (go to California)
Go to California (go to California)
You are perfect you are insane
We love to watch you break from the pain
Yeah go to California (go to California)
Go to California (go to California)
Get up get out
Get inside the outside
Get up get out get in
Get up get out
Get inside the outside
Get up get out get in
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Hit the lights and
Strip down on the floor
Everybody hates you
But they want some more
Yeah go to California (go to California)
Go to California (go to California)
Get up get out
Get inside the outside
Get up get out get in
Get up get out
Get inside the outside
Get up get out get in
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Go to California
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Go to California
song performed by by Rob Zombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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California
Blonde haired baby standing by the road
A pistol in her hand and talking on the phone
Said go to california (go to california)
Go to california (go to california)
Sidewalk gazing diamonds in the sky
Silent movie gods are flashing in your eye
Said go to california (go to california)
Go to california (go to california)
Get up get out
Get inside the outside
Get up get out get in
Get up get out
Get inside the outside
Get up get out get in
Lon chaney calling
Spelling out your name
Where everybody's different
But they're all the same
Yeah go to california (go to california)
Go to california (go to california)
You are perfect you are insane
We love to watch you break from the pain
Yeah go to california (go to california)
Go to california (go to california)
Get up get out
Get inside the outside
Get up get out get in
Get up get out
Get inside the outside
Get up get out get in
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Hit the lights and
Strip down on the floor
Everybody hates you
But they want some more
Yeah go to california (go to california)
Go to california (go to california)
Get up get out
Get inside the outside
Get up get out get in
Get up get out
Get inside the outside
Get up get out get in
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Go to california
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Bump and grind
Go to california
song performed by by Rob Zombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Then years back, when I moved to California, I happened to see a book about fashions of 19th-century Victorian England, only four pages of which was devoted to the dress of the working class.
quote by Martin C. Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Years Ago
The light of other days burns dim,
And in the shade is cast,
You'll own I'm right, if you will just
Look back upon the past;
It's glories all are faded,
And each of you must know
That times ain't what they used to be
About two years ago.
Bendigo, you know, my lads,
Was just then in its prime,
And those who happened to be here
Had a most glorious time;
But now its sadly altered,
And things are precious slow,
And times ain't what they used to be
About two years ago.
They opened Golden Gully then,
And we had many a lob,
To see the place so cut up now,
It really makes me sob:
When'eer I pass the fav'rite spot
It fills me full of woe,
Ah! times ain't what they used to was
About two years ago.
Just now look at the difference,
Ah! here's the dreadful rub,
They're washing for two pennyweights
To every blessed tub;
At such a paltry sum as that,
Why, all of us you know
Would have laughed and turned our noses up
About two years ago.
Two years ago, my lads, we used
To take our nuggets down,
Sell the lot, and go and have
A spree in Melbourne town;
We rode about in two-horse cabs,
And made the champagne flow,
And ate bank notes in sandwiches
About two years ago.
A sweetheart, then, on either arm
About the town we'd range,
And buy the dear things cashmere shawls,
And refuse to take the change;
Then to dancers at the theatre
Our nuggest we did throw,
Those were the glorious times, no flies,
About two years ago.
And when we'd quite run out of cash
We'd tramp back every mile,
And go to work again and get
Another tidy pile;
I ask you, can we do it now?
But, echo answers no;
Ah! times ai'nt what they used to was
About two years ago.
But after all, my lads, what use
Is there in vain regret,
No doubt some stunning golden piece
Of ground may turn up yet,
Then keep up all your peckers,
And let your spirits flow,
The good time yet may come again,
Just like two years ago.
poem by Charles Thatcher
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Small Town
Love going for walks around town
A small town a holler from the big city
The many old building lining the main street
Which by the way isn't main street that's a block away
From the small library to the high school a jot to get to
The sidewalks resemble the old boardwalks from yesteryear
The shops vary as the street winds to the highway
The country air blows thru the street full of manure
Good ole air, they say around here
The small diner with the local farmers dwell at
Talking of this year's events from farming to politics
The ladies at the sew shop talking gossip
It's amazing how time don't change as years pass
Every year the town picnic to the 4th July jamboree
To the harvest dance and everything in between
Small town people living the old time ways
Wishing every town was as good as it
Walking thru saying hey to neighbors all around
Can make everyday a good day
Seeing people in the park enjoying the kids play
The banner welcoming you to our small town
Small town America, loving it, living it
poem by Michael Peterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As The Years Pass Along
When the snow is gone,
we will remember this winter
for a long time to come.
We will remember being told not to go to work,
now that never happened before.
We will remember of being snow in,
and that has never happened before.
Yes, we will all have memories to share
as the years pass along,
of the biggest snowfall
we had in over forty years.
We will talk about it with affection,
forgetting the moans some people had.
We will laugh at how the authorities
like always were never prepared.
How we had to walk for a change
for there were no buses to be had.
We will remember the community spirit,
something we have not seen in years.
Memories will compound memories
with a few exaggerations to be had
as the years pass along.
13 January 2010
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hiram Helsel
Air -- "Three Grains of Corn"
Once was a boy, age fifteen years,
Hiram Helsel was his name,
And he was sick two years or so;
He has left this world of pain;
His friends they miss this lovely boy,
That was patient, kind and brave.
He left them all for him to mourn --
He is sleeping in his grave.
He was a small boy of his age,
When he was five years or so
Was shocked by lightning while to play
And it caused him not to grow,
He was called little Hi. Helsel
By all friends that knew him well --
His life was sad, as you shall hear,
And the truth to you I'll tell.
His parents parted when he was small,
And both are married again.
How sad it was for them to meet
And view his last remains.
He was living with his father then,
As many a friend can tell;
'Tis said his father's second wife
That she did not use him well.
Just before little Hiram died --
His uncle and aunt were there --
He kissed them both -- bid them farewell,
They left him with a prayer.
Now he is gone, Oh! let him rest;
His soul has found a haven,
For grief and woe ne'er enters there,
In that place called heaven.
poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Southern Kind Of Life
I grew up along way from here
I slept with the lights on for fifteen years
And Sabbath kept me home on Friday nights
and Daddy sang me Rodgers
just to make everything alright
My town wasn't even on the map
You could pass right through it in twenty seconds flat
But the south was like the whole world to me
it wasn't easy to stay but it was harder to leave
Yeah I was a south bound child
Yeah I had a small town life
But I turned out alright in the north
Livin' that southern kind of life
Old friends and bibles filled the house
no room for money and no money anyhow
deprived was something we always heard
but to me and my brother it was just another word
I use to think the north was the end
Cause people go there and they don't come back again
but my father's father was a man of the sea
He lived a southern life two blocks away from me
Yeah I was a south bound child
Yeah I had a small town life
But I turned out alright in the north
Livin' that southern kind of life
Yeah I was a south bound child
Yeah I had a small town life
But I turned out alright in the north
Livin' that southern kind of life
song performed by by Kasey Chambers from The Captain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Twenty- Fifth Yahrtzeit Of My Father
Dad I have written so many words about you
I have repeated your words again and again
I have described you
Laughed and cried in remembrance of you and Ma
All these years-
But what is it to you?
What does it all mean?
Is it ‘all just a dream'
There also?
Have these passing years meant anything for you?
Do you know of us and are you aware of all that has happened?
And when I come there most likely less than twenty- five years now
Will we meet again?
And will this longing to meet you end with nothing
Or with its realization?
Or perhaps will it never end
As we will both long from there too
Of the time we had together here for forty - five years?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Times
Our Times
13.7 billion years ago
4.5 billion years ago
3.5 billion years ago
200 thousand years ago
10,000 years ago
5000 years ago
3500 years ago
1800 years ago
500 years ago
50 years ago
One hundred years from now
Five hundred years from now
Ten million years from now
Ten billion years from now
We are where we are now
Where are we now?
Who are we now?
What will we be?
When?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Back 20 years ago, I was recording with Bruce Springsteen, and his producer called me and said I had to be in the studio the next day to finish the sessions, and I couldn't. I had to be in court, in California. All this took like 10 years out of my life.
quote by Ronnie Spector
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Donald Beardslee is set for execution this week in California. His crimes were about twenty years ago, but it will be the first execution in California in quite some time.
quote by Catherine Crier
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Old Man....
that old man who lives down the street,
who just shared a can of Alpo with his blind dog.
who owned the corner grocery when i was a kid,
who helped me out when i was short.
whose father passed it down to him,
whose son was killed in a car wreck.
whose daughter lives somewhere in California,
whose wife died ten years ago.
who was a deacon in the church for years,
who quit going when his wife died.
who put his life savings with 'trusted investors',
who lost it all when everything fell.
who the county's hounding for back taxes,
whose porch is falling down.
who prays that if there is a god...
he'll die and take the dog with him!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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