We are beaten, we will make no bones about it; but we are not too badly beaten still to fight.
quote by James Larkin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One may as well be well beaten as badly beaten.
Beaten To The Punch
You say that you can and then you run to get your mummy
And youre almost beaten to the punch
Looking for the man who sold you the dummy
And youre almost beaten to the punch
Laughing at the older guys who say its just as well
Saved by the wedding bell
Almost beaten to the punch
Youre looking for somebody new that you can knock around
You are almost beaten to the punch
If youve got a head for figures then youd better count me out
You were almost beaten to the punch
You pulled the piece but you soon called it love
You go hand in glove
Almost beaten to the punch
Your body speaks much louder than your voice
You let it do the talking so I dont have any choice
Now you find the younger guys are putting up resistance
And youre almost beaten to the punch
You better get out now because youll never go the distance
And youre almost beaten to the punch
Youll find a girl and youll promise her anything
Even a wedding ring
Almost beaten to the punch
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Woman, Made a Punching Bag of Man
A woman, beaten by the cruel hands of her man
Beaten as she raises her voice to challenge his words
Beaten as she goes out to celebrate her freedom
Beaten as she refuses to do what he orders and wants.
And the battered woman accepts her tragic lot
Bearing the marks of violence on her own body
Longing for golden days of love and romance
Lamenting on her destiny as punching bag of man.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beaten Into Sweetness
Beaten into sweetness.
Like grapes to produce,
A fine wine sipped.
Beaten into sweetness.
To allure and maintain,
A sizable profit held in a firm fist.
And every whiff of it sniffed,
Satisfied to the very last drop.
Beaten into sweetness.
Although a sadness carried,
Inside would not stop!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who’ll Wear the Beaten Colours?
Who’ll wear the beaten colours—and cheer the beaten men?
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, till our time comes again?
Where sullen crowds are densest, and fickle as the sea,
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, and wear them home with me?
We closed the bars and gambling dens and voted straight and clean,
Our women walked while motor cars were whirling round the scene,
The Potts Point Vote was one for Greed and Ease and Luxury
With all to hold, and coward gold, and beaten folk are we.
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, with hands and pockets clean?
(I wore the beaten colours since I was seventeen)
I wore them up, and wore them down, Outback and across the sea—
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, and wear them home with me?
We wore them back from Ladysmith to where the peace was signed,
And wore them through the London streets where Jingoes howled behind.
We wore them to the Queen’s Hall, while England yelled “Pro-Boers!”
And sat them over victory while London banged the doors.1
We wore them from Port Arthur round till all sunk in the sea—
(Who’ll wear the white man’s colours, and wear them home with me?)
I’ve worn them through with gentlemen, with work-slaves and alone—
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, boys, and wear them on his own?
There’s one would look with startled eyes and shrink while I caressed,
Came I not with the colours of the conquered on my breast.
And twenty thousand Bushmen would stand with hands behind
And scorn in all their faces for the coward of his kind.
Who’ll wear the beaten colours and raise the voice they drowned—
It may be when we march again, they’ll bear some other sound—
Who’ll pin the beaten colours on and drive the beaten pen—
It may be other steel and ink when we march out again.
poem by Henry Lawson
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So Tired
Scent on a postcard
A memory left behind
Warm hand, cool look but no time...
Winsome lose some
Hung up on old flame
My heart depends on fire
So who am I to make demands on love?
...relax and walk on by
So tired
So tired
Beaten like a drum
So tired
Living life alone
So tired
Beaten like a drum
Kiss the right faces
And tap the party line
Short measure of cheap skate pleasure
Easier said than done
Sip the night water
But not too drunk to say
Well just who am I to ever hope to love you?
Id turn and shy away
So tired
So tired
Beaten like a drum
So tired
Living life alone
So tired
Beaten like a drum
Once upon a bed
You said you loved me
Once upon a bed
Those eyes of blue
Now what am I supposed to do?
So tired -
So tired
Beaten like a drum
So tired
Live my life alone, so alone
Once upon a bed
You said you loved me
Once upon a bed
Those eyes of blue
And what am I to rhyme with you?
Now I lie alone and so defenceless
Dream of love in sunny daze with you
So tired...
song performed by by Haircut 100
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A chief is a man who assumes responsibility. He says ""I was beaten,"" he does not say ""My men were beaten"".
quote by Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He who is not beaten by the sun or the rain, will eventually be beaten by the hunger.
I play chess badly and I've been beaten by my 10-year old son.
quote by John Turturro
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Quitter
When you're lost in the Wild, and you're scared as a child,
And Death looks you bang in the eye,
And you're sore as a boil, it's according to Hoyle
To cock your revolver and . . . die.
But the Code of a Man says: "Fight all you can,"
And self-dissolution is barred.
In hunger and woe, oh, it's easy to blow . . .
It's the hell-served-for-breakfast that's hard.
"You're sick of the game!" Well, now, that's a shame.
You're young and you're brave and you're bright.
"You've had a raw deal!" I know -- but don't squeal,
Buck up, do your damnedest, and fight.
It's the plugging away that will win you the day,
So don't be a piker, old pard!
Just draw on your grit; it's so easy to quit:
It's the keeping-your-chin-up that's hard.
It's easy to cry that you're beaten -- and die;
It's easy to crawfish and crawl;
But to fight and to fight when hope's out of sight --
Why, that's the best game of them all!
And though you come out of each gruelling bout,
All broken and beaten and scarred,
Just have one more try -- it's dead easy to die,
It's the keeping-on-living that's hard.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Told You.
I told you I’m stepping up,
I told you I’m stepping up,
And you still scream ‘order, order’,
I told you I’m stepping up,
I told you I’ve had enough,
And you still scream.
In the recollection of,
What you told me, I told her,
I bandage the wounds,
Cause I still see you hold her,
And I cry in chocolate,
But it’s not nearly so bad,
Tasteful sympathy,
So sweet and yet so sad.
I told you I’ve had enough,
I told you I’ve had enough,
And you still scream ‘Murder, murder’,
I told you I’m stepping up,
I told you I’ve had enough,
And you still scream.
Pointing fingers in my face,
Desperate solution,
Be sure to make your case,
Even with no evidence,
But be prepared to fight,
Judges orders,
Kiss your kids goodnight,
Stain them with the same lies,
I told you I’ve given up,
I told you I’ve given up,
But you still seem beaten, beaten,
I told you I’m giving up,
But you’ve been called on you bluff,
Now you scream.
Having been to Europe and working and traveling there, the restaurants my wife and I remember were always off the beaten trail restaurants. So I tried to seek a little 'off the beaten trail,' but cool area.
quote by Todd English
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Remember I told you 2
What the heck is it with you?
Why cant you see things like I do?
I see it all so very clear.
Its all clearer by the day.
Why cant you just let me go?
I cant live my life any more.
All I can do is think of my new forfound end.
Please just let me go now
Im sick and tired of fighting.
The past has beaten me
But then it had beaten me from the start.
So please please let me go
I ve nothing left to give
I cant forgive.
So when you find me cold and stiff.
Just remember I told you
I told you Id do it
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pitiful
as I recall when my stomach turned
and I was hiding away from myself
away from you
like nothing but something was terribly wrong
and I admit that I was only waiting for the right time (right time)
right moment for you to look away
though you never did I pretended for a while
so I could walk where I don't belong
I remember every word you said
come back in time come back
and I remember I was too beaten
pitiful so pitiful
but I know as they hammered those nails
into your beautiful hands
your eyes they tried to search for mine
but I look away
now your eyes are the only thing that can save me
I'm still afraid of them piercin'
you break into my prison
just pretended for a while
my soul is sad and I walk away
I remember every word you said
come back in time come back
and I remember I was too beaten
pitiful so pitiful
pitiful
pitiful
pitiful
pitiful
so pitiful
and I remember every word you said
but this time I won't look away
and I remember every word you said
and this time I won't look away
and I remember every word you said
come back in time come back
and I remember I was so beaten
pitiful so pitiful
and I remember every word you said (pitiful)
come back in time come back (pitiful)
and I remember I was too beaten (pitiful)
pitiful so pitiful
song performed by by Blindside from Silence
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The New Moon
Day, you have bruised and beaten me,
As rain beats down the bright, proud sea,
Beaten my body, bruised my soul,
Left me nothing lovely or whole --
Yet I have wrested a gift from you,
Day that dies in dusky blue:
For suddenly over the factories
I saw a moon in the cloudy seas --
A wisp of beauty all alone
In a world as hard and gray as stone --
Oh who could be bitter and want to die
When a maiden moon wakes up in the sky?
poem by Sara Teasdale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Do It
Im walkin downtown
No lookin around
cause Im a fool and a half
Blessed and beaten by love
I walk in the direction
But then I stop the action
cause when I try to do it
My heart is gone, I blew it
Do it...do it...
Im going on and on, just on and on
Just walkin, talkin, not a winner at all
Im boozing, losing, getting out of control
She dances hip-hop, shes on the top
Im still a fool and a half, blessed and beaten by love
Do it...do it...
Im walkin back home
Keep lookin around
Still a fool and a half
Blessed and beaten by love
She walks in my direction
Why dont she start the action
I got no guts to do it
And then shes gone, I blew it
Do it...do it...
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do It
Im walkin downtown
No lookin around
cause Im a fool and a half
Blessed and beaten by love
I walk in the direction
But then I stop the action
cause when I try to do it
My heart is gone, I blew it
Do it...do it...
Im going on and on, just on and on
Just walkin, talkin, not a winner at all
Im boozing, losing, getting out of control
She dances hip-hop, shes on the top
Im still a fool and a half, blessed and beaten by love
Do it...do it...
Im walkin back home
Keep lookin around
Still a fool and a half
Blessed and beaten by love
She walks in my direction
Why dont she start the action
I got no guts to do it
And then shes gone, I blew it
Do it...do it...
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Outside looking in!
On the outside
Sincerely looking in
Now, this is the
Moment when
The hard work,
The extra curriculum
actually begins
I can see each badly beaten
struggle
How and why
they started and even
How they can end
I tap into the inner source
To receive strength
Inorder to begin again
Iam on the outside
Looking deeply in
To strategize inorder
To Finally
defeat the hidden enemy
That is within
poem by Angel A. Lockwood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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W.w.j.d.
I saw a man today
he was dirty and cold
W.W.J.D.
There was a child on the street
she was beaten and scared
W.W.J.D.
A woman was sitting in her car
hurt and crying
W.W.J.D.
We have all forgotten how to be human
we no longer feel sympathy
have we forgotten what a man did for us
He was beaten, bloody, and hurt
but He carried His cross
He took away our sins
so the next time you see someone
be they hurt, scared, hungry, or cold
just for an instant think
W.W.J.D.
poem by Sierra Morrow
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Song Making
My heart cried like a beaten child
Ceaselessly all night long;
I had to take my own cries
And thread them into a song.
One was a cry at black midnight
And one when the first cock crew --
My heart was like a beaten child,
But no one ever knew.
Life, you have put me in your debt
And I must serve you long --
But oh, the debt is terrible
That must be paid in song.
poem by Sara Teasdale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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