Living up to ideals is like doing everyday work with your Sunday clothes on.
quote by Edward W. Howe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everyday Is Like Sunday
[ morrissey ]
Trudging slowly over wet sand
Back to the bench where your clothes were stolen
This is a coastal town
That they forgot to close down
Armagedon - come armagedon come armagedon come
Everyday is like sunday
Everyday is silent and grey
Hide on a promanade
Etch on a post card:
How I dearly wish I was not here
In the seaside town
That they forgot to bomb
Come, come nuclear bomb!
Everyday is like sunday
Everyday is silent and grey
Trudging back over pebbles and sand
And a strange dust lands on your hands
(and on your face)
Everyday is like sunday
Win yourself a cheap tray
Share some grease tea with me
Everyday is silent and grey
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everyday Is Like Sunday
Trudging slowly over wet sand
Back to the bench where your clothes were stolen
This is the coastal town
That they forgot to close down
Armageddon - come armageddon!
Come, armageddon! come!
Everyday is like sunday
Everyday is silent and grey
Hide on the promenade
Etch a postcard :
How I dearly wish I was not here
In the seaside town
...that they forgot to bomb
Come, come, come - nuclear bomb
Everyday is like sunday
Everyday is silent and grey
Trudging back over pebbles and sand
And a strange dust lands on your hands
(and on your face...)
(on your face ...)
(on your face ...)
(on your face ...)
Everyday is like sunday
Win yourself a cheap tray
Share some greased tea with me
Everyday is silent and grey
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In This Town
I could be anywhere else but here
But the rain wont let me go.
Theres a photograph
Hanging on my wall
Of a place Ive never been to...
Ill never make the grade
(feels like sunday everyday)
And I cant stop the rain
(feels like sunday everyday)
What do the papers say?
(feels like sunday everyday)
Get up and go now!
In this town - somethings gotta change.
In this town - somethings gotta change.
Im looking at the world -
Looking for a scene -
Waiting for a day -
Filling in time like Im digging
My own grave...
Ill never make the grade
(feels like sunday everyday)
And I cant stop the rain
(feels like sunday everyday)
What do the papers say?
(feels like sunday everyday)
Get up and go now!
(chorus repeats...)
song performed by by Eurythmics
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Sunday Kind of Woman
I can only imagine for our worlds are far apart
How it would feel to hold this woman mouth to mouth heart to heart
I guess it's a good thing dreaming's free
What would a Sunday kind of woman
A Sunday kind of woman want an everyday man like me.
I've had lots of nightlife women you've seen one you've seen 'em all
And I wake up in the morning and I turn and face the wall
And long for someone special's company
But would a Sunday kind of woman
A Sunday kind of woman love an everyday man like me.
But would a Sunday kind of woman
A Sunday kind of woman love an everyday man like me.
song performed by by Charlie Rich, lyrics by Margaret Ann Rich from Behind Closed Doors (1973)
Submitted by Jeffrey Kosloske
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Coast To Coast
Music:Rudolf Schenker
Lyrics:Klaus Meine, Herman Rarebell
(5:36)
Working hard to get it on for you
Everyday and night
I give you all I've got to give
Take it all
Love I know that you're feelin' blue
Lonely deep inside
'Cause I know how it feels to be alone
Loving you Sunday morning
You were on my mind love everyday
Loving you Sunday morning
Your love makes me fly so far away
People tell me that I'm gonna lose you
Our love will die
So tell me is it true right or wrong
I never ever wanna lose your love
So I will change my life
Believe in me my love
I'm coming home
Loving you Sunday morning
You were on my mind love everyday
Loving you Sunday morning
Your love makes me fly so far away
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loving You Sunday Morning
Music :rudolf schenker
Lyrics:klaus meine, herman rarebell
Working hard to get it on for you
Everyday and night
I give you all Ive got to give
Take it all
Love I know that youre feelin blue
Lonely deep inside
cause I know how it feels to be alone
Loving you sunday morning
You were on my mind love everyday
Loving you sunday morning
Your love makes me fly so far away
People tell me that Im gonna lose you
Our love will die
So tell me is it true right or wrong
I never ever wanna lose your love
So I will change my life
Believe in me my love
Im coming home
Loving you sunday morning
You were on my mind love everyday
Loving you sunday morning
Your love makes me fly so far away
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Work! Work! And Reap!
Work! Work! Work! And Reap!
Work! Work! Work! And Sleep!
Everyday most of we work
Some of us love to work
Some of us just want to rock
Some of us want to lie on a beach or take a walk
If we had our way, we could spend all day and talk
But work we all must
Or our lifestyles will go bust!
We may then have to readjust
To unacceptable standards of living in disgust
Work! Work! Work! And Reap!
Work! Work! Work! And Sleep!
We all have different professions
Some of us have silent confessions
We fancy someone at work with an obsession
Work is then fun with a passion until confusion
Work! Work! Work! And Reap!
Work! Work! Work! And Sleep!
There are jobs that are monotonous
The atmosphere is negatively outrageous
Nothing in the air signifies hilarious
Every single person is always very serious
Sometimes played at work
Is the kind of politics
That makes one quite sick
This is where the strong kick
Kick hardest the backside of the weak
But work we all must
Or our lifestyles will go bust!
As we find ourselves lost
And then try hard to readjust
So do we swallow?
Or is fighting back shallow
Will it leave in your pocket a dent that is hollow?
Or produce a scene labeled horror
Enough to leave you in tears of sorrow
I don't have all the answers
I know work is a living cancer
People at work ought to be a little nicer
Everyone needs to make a living including a dancer!
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mother!
Mother! , She is a cursive art,
Let her sleep, its a sunday's part!
The dawn has set in a will,
The limpid heart is sleeping still!
Her work is wide than a tide,
Making her face fade a slight!
Mother! , She is a cursive art,
Let her sleep, its a sunday's part!
The Queen of Kingdom rests in peace,
The Queen of Home sets in work!
Her job is an endless ocean,
My smile for her is boosting mark!
Mother! , She is a cursive art,
Let her sleep, its a sunday's part!
Sunday is a great relief,
To recharge her mind and physic!
Its my part to pat her today,
Let her sleep, come on sunday! !
Mother! She is a cursive art,
Let her sleep, its a sunday's part!
poem by Jayanthi Sekar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunday Morning
Sunday morning silence, curtain stay closed late
No one thinks of kitchens mornings in a filthy state
Dishes cups and beer stains, ashtrays on the floor
Sunday morning papers are left outside the front door
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
(sunday, bloody sunday rest)
Glass of fizzy water helps to start the day
Sit and listen to sunday silence, problems fade away
Sunday cars and drivers break the morning air
Uncollected milk outside reveals theres no one there
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
Bathrobes hang in waiting, windows steaming up
Somewhere in the sink downstairs lies an unwashed cup
Tea and toast for breakfast clear away the plates
Wash-up prepare for cooking sunday lunch awaits
Sunday lunch awaits
Sunday lunch awaits
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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But the egoist has no ideals, for the knowledge that his ideals are only his ideals, frees him from their domination. He acts for his own interest, not for the interest of ideals.
quote by John Buchanan Robinson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bouyant Madness
Everyday.
That's when I 'update' my thought process.
Everyday...
There is something to add,
To a perception...
Easily outdated,
By the rush of bouyant madness.
Everyday I pray,
'Dear God...
Is it okay if I go into a rage and cuss?
Is it okay if I raise my right eyebrow...
To give my left one a rest?
Is it okay if I should punch someone in the face!
Then beg for Your forgiveness, My Father? '
Everyday...
It seems I am straying further away,
From the ideals of Mother Teresa!
And yes...
It is 'everyday' that I 'update' my thought process.
To add to a perception,
Easily outdated...
By the rush of bouyant madness!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Inharmonious Harmony
Watch two women washing clothes;
One woman makes dry clothes wet
The other makes wet clothes dry
They seem to work against each other,
But their work is a perfect harmony
(Inspired by the brilliance of Rumi)
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Place to Work
Harmony to work is what we seek,
Let everyone choose for them to think.
In a quiet place to be alone.
For a peace in mind as we go on.
Concentrate to work and reach the goal,
As we plan in satisfying our soul,
To everyday living to survive,
A place to work is in our side.
poem by Ma.Emmariz Valmorida
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Well, it was sunday, bloody sunday when the shot the people there.
The cries of thirteen martyrs filled the free derry air.
Is there anyone amongst you dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding when they nailed the coffin lids!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, you claim to be majority, well, you know that its a lie.
Youre really a minority on this sweet emerald isle.
When stormont bans our marches, theyve got a lot to learn,
Internment is no answer, its those mothers turn to burn.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey! yeah!
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
All you anglo pigs and scotties sent to colonise the north,
You wave your bloody union jacks and you know what its worth.
How dare you hold to ransom a people proud and free?
Keep ireland to the irish, put the english back to sea!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey, hey, hey!
Alright!
Ooh -
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, its always bloody sunday in the concentration camps.
Keep falls road free forever from the bloody british hands.
Repatriate to britain all of you who call it home,
Leave ireland to the irish not for london or for rome.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Well, it was sunday, bloody sunday when the shot the people there.
The cries of thirteen martyrs filled the free derry air.
Is there anyone amongst you dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding when they nailed the coffin lids!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, you claim to be majority, well, you know that its a lie.
Youre really a minority on this sweet emerald isle.
When stormont bans our marches, theyve got a lot to learn,
Internment is no answer, its those mothers turn to burn.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey! yeah!
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
All you anglo pigs and scotties sent to colonise the north,
You wave your bloody union jacks and you know what its worth.
How dare you hold to ransom a people proud and free?
Keep ireland to the irish, put the english back to sea!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey, hey, hey!
Alright!
Ooh -
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, its always bloody sunday in the concentration camps.
Keep falls road free forever from the bloody british hands.
Repatriate to britain all of you who call it home,
Leave ireland to the irish not for london or for rome.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Washing Enzymes
Washing enzymes have a job to do
They work for me they work for you
They make our clothes look nice and new
Just chuck them in the wash and press a button or two
They eat the grass, blood and gravy
And make the blues look really navy
They never stop they’re never lazy
They make my clothes as fresh as a daisy
Washing enzymes work night or day
They work when we sleep they work when we play
They work in every possible way
And love their job anyway!
poem by Bianca N/A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Last School Year
My las year that I'm in LOHS
I can't wait to get out
There won't be anymore waking up at 6: 15 a.m everyday except Wednesday. Saturday, and Sunday
No more homework
But of course no more seen friends everyday
I can't wait til June 3rd
poem by Mischa Townsend
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Lives Of The Saints
The lives of the saints are very good
Because the saints takes care of their health and Hygiene very well
The saints always changes their clothes everyday because they transpire Very fast in heaven due to the heat that is turned on in the winter in Heaven
Yes it gets very hot in heaven that sometimes they have to open the Windows just a bit so they can get some fresh air
And heaven is home to the saints
But the saints love living in heaven because there is no noise or Violence
During the day the saints leaves heaven and come down to earth to Help in a food bunk and they get paid for their work
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Lives Of The Saints Ii
The lives of the saints are very good
Because the saints takes care of their health and Hygiene very well
The saints always changes their clothes everyday because they transpire Very fast in heaven due to the heat that is turned on in the Winter in heaven
Yes it gets very hot in heaven that sometimes they have to open the Windows just a bit so they can get some fresh air
And heaven is home to the saints
But the saints love living in heaven because there is no noise or violence
During the day the saints leaves heaven and come down to earth to Help in a food bank and they get paid for their work
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just Another Sunday
Just another Sunday
That the Almighty God
sits on his throne
He is majestic, also beautiful
Royal
Faithful
Never forsaking his own
Loving each and everybody
For there is no one
He desires to disown
He came to all the Earth
That is presence might be known
So on this Sunday and everyday
You can claim him as your own
Just simply call upon him
Asking that your purpose here
On earth be shown
poem by Angel A. Lockwood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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