I was married for 30 years. Isn't that enough? I've had my share of dirty underwear on the floor.
quote by Martha Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Favorite
Don't look sexy but it just feels right
Not too dirty and it's not too tight
Why I never threw it out, I'll never know exactly why
Keep it in the drawer beside my bed
It's faded pink now, but it used to be red
Starting to fray at the seams, but I know that you'll still love me
Like you did, like you did
Like before, like before
Like we will, like we will
Be doin' it once more
Oh baby know what your like?
You're like my favorite underwear
It just feels right, you know it
Oh baby know how you feel?
You feel like my favorite underwear
And I'm slipping you on again tonight
Leave you lyin' on the bedroom floor
I leave you hangin' on the bathroom door
Take you for granted, but I'll always know exactly where you are
Lost you once you were hard to find
Got you back you didn't live like mine
Thought we were falling apart but you make me feel so pretty
Like you did, like you did
Like before, like before
Like we will, like we will
Be doin' it once more
Oh baby know what your like?
You're like my favorite underwear
It just feels right, you know it
Oh baby know how you feel?
You feel like my favorite underwear
And I'm slipping you on again tonight
Slipping you on again tonight
Wrap me and roll me, hold me tight
Tear me apart and make me new
Like you always do
Oh baby know what your like?
You're like my favorite underwear
It just feels right, you know it
You feel you're like this is what I want
You feel, you feel
Oh baby know what your like?
You're like my favorite underwear
It just feels right, you know it
You feel you're like this is what I want
You feel, you feel
Slipping you on again tonight
song performed by by Liz Phair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dirty Laundry Poem
This is the dirty laundry poem-
because we have traveled from town to town
accumulating soiled linen & sweaty shirts
& blue-jeans caked & clotted with our juice
& teeshirts crumpled by our gloriously messy passion
& underwear made stiff by all our joy.
I have come home to wash my clothes.
They patter on the bathroom floor like rain.
The water drips away the days till you.
The dirty water speaks to me of love.
Steamy in the bubbles of our love,
I have plunged my hands into hot water
as I might plunge them
in your heart.
After years of spots & splatters,
I am finally coming clean.
I will fly to you with a suitcase of fresh laundry,
strip my clothes off, heap them on the floor,
& let you scrub my body with your love.
poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dirty Fingernail
dirty dirty fingernails...
dirty dirty fingernails...
Out of the shower, on to the bathroom floor
Out in the kitchen, underneath the casserole
dirty dirty fingernails...
dirty dirty fingernails...
(It takes a lot of energy to make that sound)
Out of the shower, on to the bathroom floor
Out in the kitchen, underneath the casserole
Out on the patio, out in the great outdoors
song performed by by Modest Mouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dirty White Boy
Hey, baby, if youre feelin down
I know whats good for you all day
Are you worried what your friends see
Will it ruin your reputation lovin me
cause Im a dirty white boy
Yeah a dirty white boy
A dirty white boy
Dont drive no big black car
Dont like no hollywood movie star
You want me to be true to you
You dont give a damn what I do to you
Im just a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, dirty white boy
Dirty white boy
Well, Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, yeah, dirty white boy
A dirty white boy
Ive been in trouble since I dont know when
Im in trouble now and I now somehow Ill find trouble again
Im a loner, but Im never alone
Every night I get one step closer to the danger zone
cause Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, yeah, dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy
Cmon, cmon boy
Dirty white boy, white boy
Dirty white boy, Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy
Hey, Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, yeah, Im a dirty white boy
Dirty white boy, dirty white boy, yeah
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I see L.A. as a beautiful blonde with dirty underwear.
quote by David Boreanaz
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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One of my assistants found this old German machine. It was originally used to make underwear. Like Chanel, who started with underwear fabric - jerseys - we used the machine that made underwear to make something else.
quote by Issey Miyake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Can I Wait For My Boxer's to Dry?
I was often told...
Be careful how you go up the ladder,
Because one day you may have to come down.
And to always wear clean underwear.
Since you never know...
Who just might be around.
'That still doesn't explain,
Why you are butt naked...
Standing on a ladder,
And hanging your underwear
On tree limbs! '
Well officer...
It's like this.
If my neighbors saw my underwear clean,
And I put them on publicly.
They would not worry about how they looked...
When I came down the ladder.
It would be obvious...
My underwear is clean!
'I still have to take you in for psychiatric observation.
I understand the logic behind it!
However...
I do think you have been a bit stressed.
And taking things out of context.'
Can I wait for my boxer's to dry?
I just put those on my next door neighbor's satellite dish!
Did they call you?
I bet they did!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Underwear
I didn’t get much sleep last night
thinking about underwear
Have you ever stopped to consider
underwear in the abstract
When you really dig into it
some shocking problems are raised
Underwear is something we all have to deal with
Everyone wears
some kind of underwear
Even Indians wear underwear
Even Cubans
wear underwear
The Pope wears underwear I hope
The Governor of Louisiana wears underwear
I saw him on TV
He must have had tight underwear
He squirmed a lot
Underwear can really get you in a bind
You have seen the underwear ads for men and women
so alike but so different
Women’s underwear holds things up
Men’s underwear holds things down
Underwear is one thing
men and women do have in common
Underwear is all we have between us
You have seen the three-color pictures
with crotches encircled
to show the areas of extra strength
with three-way stretch
promising full freedom of action
Don’t be deceived
It’s all based on the two-party system
which doesn’t allow much freedom of choice
the way things are set up
America in its Underwear
struggles thru the night
Underwear controls everything in the end
Take foundation garments for instance
They are really fascist forms
of underground government
making people believe
something but the truth
telling you what you can of can’t do
Did you ever try to get around a girdle
Perhaps Non-Violent Action
is the only answer
Did Gandhi wear a girdle?
Did Lady Macbeth wear a girdle?
Was that why Macbeth murdered sleep?
And the spot she was always rubbing -
Was it really her underwear?
Modern anglosaxon ladies
must have huge guilt complexes
always washing and washing and washing
Out damned spot
Underwear with spots very suspicious
Underwear with bulges very shocking
Underwear on clothesline a great flag of freedom
Someone has escaped his Underwear
May be naked somewhere
Help!
But don’t worry
Everybody’s still hung up in it
There won’t be no real revolution
And poetry still the underwear of the soul
And underwear still covering
a multitude of faults
in the geological sense -
strange sedimentary stones, inscrutable cracks!
If I were you I’d keep aside
an oversize pair of winter underwear
Do not go naked into that good night
And in the meantime
keep calm and warm and dry
No use stirring ourselves up prematurely
‘over Nothing’
Move forward with dignity
hand in vest
Don’t get emotional
And death shall have no dominion
There’s plenty of time my darling
Are we not still young and easy?
Don’t shout.
poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It used to be that you came out of school, and you got married - those who were going to get married. But my peers are getting married in their early 30s, so now there's like this extra 10 years of that angst.
quote by Zach Braff
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All I Need From You Is That You Clean Me, Mama
you lay a mat on the floor
for you to understand dirt and its implications its complications
to the wall
or to the center table and to the rest of the parts of your house,
dirt must be eradicated, that is your rule number one,
so you put lots of mats and rugs, doormats, floormats,
in every door in every corner of the floor
all dirts are not welcome,
it is as though you have studied dirt at length for years,
what is dirt? what are the kinds of dirt? the causes of dirt?
the consequences of dirt? the historical background of dirt,
and your recommendations finally about
dirt
its control and eradication,
you have talked about dirt and how you disliked it,
how you have driven dirt away from this house
how you called they police when dirt resisted to leave
and of course they all were arrested and jailed
without bond
the judge convicted dirt on the basis of those dirty exhibits
and dirty testimonial evidence,
dirt must be poisoned by lethal injection, hanged, electrocuted,
to make them disappear forever
that is your firm belief
your solid conviction
the sound philosophy of
your society
you are talking to me, and i will now tell you who am i really,
my name, the place where i live, my family and how i am related to you,
mother, i am dirt, my name is dirty, my family is dirty,
i live in a dirty place, i am your son,
i cannot step on your doormat, immediately i must leave now
you will report me to the police and i will be arrested
and jailed and even be hanged dead,
all i need is only that you clean me, mama.
now, please........
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Christmas Zen #1
small children with dirty faces
playing on a cold floor;
rags stuffed in cracks,
'round the windowsills
roaches run up the walls,
Christmas music on the radio
cut off notice on the table;
young woman stares, half dreaming,
of stockings with nuts and oranges
(& the remembered scent of hot chocolate!)
crack pipe falls to the floor
as snow begins to fall
small children with dirty faces
playing on a cold floor
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dirty Old Town
(ewan mccoll)
Found my love by the gaswork croft
Dreamed a dream by the old canalkissed my girl by the factory wall
Dirty old town, dirty old towni heard a siren from the dock
Saw a train set the night on firesmelled the spring on the sulfured wind
Dirty old town, whoa-oh, dirty old townwere goin to take a good sharp axe
Shining steel tempered in the fireand well chop you down like an old dead tree
Dirty old town, dirty old towndirty old town, whoa-oh, dirty old town
And oh well chop you downoh, dirty, dirty, dirty old town
Dirty old town, dirty old townand oh whoa-oh dirty old town
Chop you down one of these days
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dirty Eyes
You hypnotize
Honey
Yeah honey
You do it
Woooo, do it good
Do it all right
Every night
When you turn off the light
Its outta sight
(alright)
You hypnotize
Mezmorize
With your dirty eyes
Dirty eyes
Your dirty eyes
Breathin
Breathin heavy
Heavy
Heavy breathin
Send shivers down my spine
[make me | and [im|youre]] so glad that youre mine
[when youre so bad and youre
Mine]
Thats what turns me on
All night long
You hypnotize
Mezmorize
With your dirty eyes
Dirty eyes
You got dirty eyes
Dirty eyes
Dirty eyes
Dirty eyes
Dirty eyes
Dirty eyes
I love your dirty eyes
Dirty eyes
Dirty eyes
Right through me
Your dirty eyes
Dirty eyes
Dirty eyes
Dirty eyes
Dirty eyes
Dirty eyes
Dirty eyes
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As Soon as Fred Gets Out of Bed
As soon as Fred gets out of bed,
his underwear goes on his head.
His mother laughs, "Don't put it there,
a head's no place for underwear!"
But near his ears, above his brains,
is where Fred's underwear remains.
At night when Fred goes back to bed,
he deftly plucks it off his head.
His mother switches off the light
and softly croons, "Good night! Good night!"
And then, for reasons no one knows,
Fred's underwear goes on his toes.
poem by Jack Prelutsky
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Down And Dirty
She's a dancing girl who brings up the heat
Hits on all the men
She knows how to move and make you feel
Like you want to get into sin
A chocolate bar was going really far
Really made me catch my breath
So she had an unordinary glance
I got down tools in the chest
Down and dirty
You're down and dirty, alright
She's down and dirty
You're down and dirty
She twisted her ass around drinks
While the dirty works the girl's booty
Whispered in my ear what I want to hear
Says, "Come with me baby, let's play." (Okay!)
She went to the back to get her traps
My sixth sense was bothering me
She came to work and something I heard
Makes me want to get comfy
Down and dirty
She's down and dirty, alright
Get down and dirty
Get down (Listen)
Down and dirty
Woo!
Alright
Ooh yeah
Well there's something going on
Something I've never known before
Leather and lace is all that I can see
I lost my power of will
You know she should be still
Never thought I'd get hit by some teen, no
I start to bleed, have mercy on me
I'm feelin' a bit distressed
What you're doing to me is so obscene
Got myself into a mess
She started to dance, I grabbed my pants
Found my way to the door
Hot on my trail, a thousand females
Saying, "Baby, more more more!"
Down and dirty
(Hurt me)
Down and dirty
(Well, well, well)
Down and dirty
(Oh yeah)
Get down and dirty
(She is)
Get down (Down)
Get dirty (Dirty)
Take me down (Alright)
One more
Get down (Oh yeah)
Get dirty (Turn around)
Get down (Come over here)-
song performed by by Quiet Riot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Three Flights Up
On the first floor On the first floor
On the first floor there's a young girl reeling
Her body's numb and without feeling
As illusions dance on the midnight ceiling
Now she's falling, now she's kneeling
It's almost like she's bowed in prayer
A savior she's about to bear
She screams for help, but no one's there
On the first floor
On the first floor people walk the halls
But none can hear her desperate calls
There is no sound beyond the walls
So to the telephone she crawls
She telephones her only friend
The one on whom she can depend
But the phone rings on without an end
Then rings no moreOn the first floor
There's a party on the second floor
And through the picture window you can see them all
They're laughing and they're dancing
Admiring the Renoir that's hanging on the wall
But in the master bedroom where the coats are piled high
A silent, saddened lady thinks of what it's like to die
And as she dwells on all the years she still has left to face
She wonders how she'll ever find someone to take his place
Then suddenly she's jarred by the ringing of the phone
Oh, why do you ring now, just when I want to be alone?
So she walks into the bathroom and drinks some water from a cup
But the telephone stops ringing just before she picks it up
My family was very poor
So I worked hard to be secure
I married one I had to wed
And not the one I loved instead
When I was young my blood ran wild
But we stayed married for the child
Now three flights up, I'm all alone
My wife is dead, my child is grown
My daughter leads a wayward life
She's been a failure as a wife
And though she lives just one floor down
She never calls or comes around
Step off the platform and onto the train
Look out your window and into the rain
Watch all the buildings that pass as you ride
And count all the stories that go on inside
And then ask yourself if it must be this way
Should walls and doors and plaster ceilings
Separate us from each others' feelings?
song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Married Men
(bugatti - musker)
Producers for bonnie: ronnie scott, steve wolfe
Bonnie recorded this song in 1979 for the film the world is full of married men. the lyrics are taken from the japanese single.
The world is full of married men
With wives who never understand
Theyre looking for someone to share
The excitement of a love affair
Just as soon as they find you
They wine you and dine you
You fly on the wings of romance
But in the eyes of the world
Youre just another crazy girl
Who loves a married man
Oh your love is a secret
And youve got to keep it
As long as you can
No dont cry for your lover
Theres always another married man
The world is full of married men
Oh yeah you make him feel so young
But his wife will still be number one
He promises to marry you
Just as soon as his divorce
Comes through
And its not just a fling
He swears its the real thing
A love that could last till the end
As hes driving away
You know its true what they say
About married men
They do it, they do it, they do it
They do it again and again
They do it, they do it, they do it
They do it, married men
Oh hell run when the scandal
Gets too hot to handle
Hell say I just want to be friends
They hell walk out of your life
Hell go home to his wife
cause hes a married man
Oh your love is a secret
And youve got to keep it
As long as you can
No dont cry for your lover
Theres always another married man
The world is full of married men
They do it, they do it, they do it
They do it again and again
They do it, they do it, they do it
They do it, married men
Hell walk out of your life
And go home to his wife
A married man
Dont cry for your lover
Theres always another married man
They do it, they do it, they do it
They do it again and again
They do it, they do it, they do it
They do it, married men....repeat and fade
song performed by by Bonnie Tyler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nellie Clark
I was only eight years old;
And before I grew up and knew what it meant
I had no words for it, except
That I was frightened and told my Mother;
And that my Father got a pistol
And would have killed Charlie, who was a big boy,
Fifteen years old, except for his Mother.
Nevertheless the story clung to me.
But the man who married me, a widower of thirty-five,
Was a newcomer and never heard it
Till two years after we were married.
Then he considered himself cheated,
And the village agreed that I was not really a virgin.
Well, he deserted me, and I died
The following winter.
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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News Report
Only one person survived the attack,
when three black men with machineguns
killed the farmer, screaming loudly: “come here you bitch, ”
bursting into the house, kicking her, stripping her clothes off
and they acted as if totally insane.
On the floor she was tied up tightly
where they raped her, shouting: “you Boor whore.”
In the hospital she cried without end,
could hardly face reporters for the interview,
are without her possessions, husband and country and feels dirty.
She will never forget the black rapists,
even when praying to God,
as long as the killers still are alive,
there’s something burning in her like festering wounds
and only a grave is left to the honour of her husband,
in thoughts she is again swept away,
it feels as if every black man is watching her,
nothing can be trade for the life of her husband,
she strongly considers selling the farm,
are without her possessions, husband and country and feels dirty.
In her thoughts she lives through it again
with fear for a sexual disease or sores,
at night suddenly get awake shivering,
out of superstition even avoids ladders,
sometimes falls asleep in her pink underwear,
hear branches rustle, a dove cooing,
it feels as if someone wants to silence her,
she wants to hide from the whole world,
totally apathetic feeds the cattle green fodder,
are without her possessions,
husband and country and feels dirty.
l’Envoi
but the community is deeply moved by her,
they want to capture and abduct the criminals,
believe that terrorists are lurking on farms,
but she doesn’t want to mention this matter again,
are without her possessions, husband and country and feels dirty.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Making Our Own Space
this morning i wake up late
i see misplaced things
lots of it, like dirty clothes
on the floor
unwashed dishes on the sink
blankets unfolded
pillow cases removed from
their pillows
unzipped pants
missing underwear
tumbled glass
spilled milk on the table
dogs waiting to be bathed and feed
i stand up to get my empty plate
take three spoonfuls of steam rice
and two pieces of fish
a cup of coffee and i go out of the house
sit on a bench under a tree
sunshine above me and air breezing on my chest
i eat alone
and something's good is growing inside me
i love it this way
my own space of peace
amidst disorder
my capacity to choose
what i do
despite the negligence of
others around me
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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