My kitchen is not a place to live in. I made it white so I can tell instantly if it's not clean-and I like it clean enough to be able to eat off the floors-or the tables, for that matter.
quote by Paul Lynde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Clean
Eat clean,
Live clean,
Sleep clean,
dress clean,
Walk clean,
Learn clean,
Play clean,
Think clean,
dance clean,
Talk clean,
Sing clean,
work clean,
Because the world around you is watching what you do;
You are the only one on this earth,
So live and let us live too.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You come before me this morning with clean hands and clean collars. I want you to have clean tongues, clean manners, clean morals and clean characters.
quote by John Burns
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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House Wife Affair
I been having my housewife affair for awhile
which my husband doesn't even care about!
They are all performed in the comfort of the home
And I never have to ever dress up, or go out!
These men that live in our home
are Kenmore, and then that other fella, Hover!
They're my kind of secret men!
They are shakers and, real movers!
One takes me around and around the house
as he sweeps me across, clean floors!
The other pampers my clothes in bubbles
and sometimes, even helps me, clean above the doors!
Then one can be as cold as ice!
But does take me to the kitchen to dine.
And sometimes makes me coffee
Aromas, waking me up, before the stoke of nine.
I don't think I'll let my husband in on it
these other men I have in my life!
I'll just pretend, that they're my secret lovers
helping just another, imaginative, overworked, housewife!
poem by Linda Winchell
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The Cleanest Man....
he is clean
he prides about the beard
that he has
just shaven
he is clean
there is no hair left on his head
no hair between his thighs
and legs
he is clean
his chest is bare now
his heart slowly
beating
he is clean as he
is empty
like a room without
furniture and
drapes
he is clean and without
sin
he who has not done
anything
and can do not wrong again...
he is clean now
for he is dead....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Clean Up The World
Clean Up The World
Where have we gone?
We’ve drifted away
Too many years
Nothin’ to say
Too many years
Intentional lies
Too many years
Collegiate-laundered hipplets
Drivin’ us to demise
Got to clean up the world, clean up the world
Clean up the world, clean up the world
We’ve got to put that yuppie back in its cage
Along came McRonald
We got in its way
Too many years
Puppeteers played
Too many years
Stealing us blind
Too many years
Of totalitarians smothering us from the right
Got to clean up the world, clean up the world
Clean up the world, clean up the world
We’ve got to put that yuppie back in its cage
Their Wall Street money’s been holdin’ us fast
Ideals shallow and vain
They sell us all just to make it last
Revolution of ‘89 today
We got to clean up the world, clean up the world
Clean up the world, clean up the world
We’ve got to put that yuppie back in its cage
Self-centered cosmos
Material gain
Too many years
Deflecting their blame
Too many years
Stuffin’ their cart
Too many years
Deceit inside the head
Instead of love in their heart
Got to clean up the world, clean up the world
Clean up the world, clean up the world
We’ve got to put that yuppie back in its grave
Copyright 1992 Will Fiala
poem by Will Fiala
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Black Market White Baby Dealer
My black market white baby dealer
Is hunting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Brings back clean, fresh white babies to me
Clean, fresh white babies to me
My black market white baby dealer
Is rooting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Kidnaps clean, fresh white babies for me
Clean, fresh white babies for me
My smile is dime a dozen
My lips are cherry red
My eyes are blue like the sky is blue
I got good shoulders under my head
I look like your mother
I look like your great-aunt
So sit me down in the family photo
And everyone tells me that i, I look just like you
My black market white baby dealer
Is hunting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Brings back clean, fresh white babies to me
He brings back
Oh my god, he brings back
He brings back clean, fresh, white expensive babies
He brings back
Oh charlie, he brings back
He brings back clean, fresh, white expensive babies
I come post-production
I dont need natal care
Im already fully assembled
Down to the very last part, its all there
So take me to your family
So take me to your home
Buddy, take me in as your next generation
And Ill take you out of the lost one and into mine
My black market white baby dealer
Is hunting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Brings back clean, fresh white babies to me
Clean, fresh white babies to me
Clean, fresh white babies to me
song performed by by Liz Phair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Toilet
Every one
use
The toilet
Clean
Take water
And clean...
Clean is
Importent
her clean
Is not
Impress other's...
It is helpfull for
Healthy good
Life...
For clean
Toilet...
All ways
With your use...!
Some
human are
Use
The toilet
At animals...
You...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Clean Things
Clean beasts must have split hoof and chew the cud,
Clean fish must have scales and fins,
Clean insects must have jointed legs above their feet to hop;
And like other clean things listed in your Bibe.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Dirty Jim
THERE was one little Jim,
'Tis reported of him,
And must be to his lasting disgrace,
That he never was seen
With hands at all clean,
Nor yet ever clean was his face.
His friends were much hurt
To see so much dirt,
And often they made him quite clean;
But all was in vain,
He got dirty again,
And not at all fit to be seen.
It gave him no pain
To hear them complain,
Nor his own dirty clothes to survey:
His indolent mind
No pleasure could find
In tidy and wholesome array.
The idle and bad,
Like this little lad,
May love dirty ways, to be sure;
But good boys are seen
To be decent and clean,
Although they are ever so poor.
poem by Ann Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dirty Jim
THERE was one little Jim,
'Tis reported of him,
And must be to his lasting disgrace,
That he never was seen
With hands at all clean,
Nor yet ever clean was his face. . . .
His friends were much hurt
To see so much dirt,
And often they made him quite clean;
But all was in vain,
He got dirty again,
And not at all fit to be seen.
It gave him no pain
To hear them complain,
Nor his own dirty clothes to survey:
His indolent mind
No pleasure could find
In tidy and wholesome array.
The idle and bad,
Like this little lad,
May love dirty ways, to be sure;
But good boys are seen
To be decent and clean,
Although they are ever so poor.
poem by Jane Taylor
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Clean white sheets
Clean white sheets upon my bed
cradle my body but not my head.
My head's never cradled. It's too full.
It's too noisy. There is no lull.
I wash them routinely every week.
If I hung them outside the neighbors would speak.
Their words would complement the sight
of clean white sheets I use at night.
But they don't know how I'm awake
and how those sheets never give me a break.
I make the bed up and I think
'If only I could catch a wink.'
I'd praise those sheets on every day
and finally I'd be able to say.
'Clean white sheets upon my bed
you've found a way to cradle my head.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Survial.
Water comes from the river origin is clean,
I wash my head.
Water comes from the river branch is dirty,
I wash my feet.
Oh sure, when water in the pool is clean,
I jump in to swim.
But, when the pool is dirty, I leave at once,
And quit my job.
Oh who’s the original source not let me clean?
Keep my head and body clean without water?
How can I keep my head clean in the river?
How can I keep my body clean in a pool?
What is going on about the water?
How could I live in this world?
poem by Albert Wong
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Wash Yourself
Wash yourself and make yourself clean,
And appear before me with your nakedness and let me love you;
For the faithful city has now become a harlot and,
Your wine is now mixed with water!
You've sold yourself to many and,
Of your beautiful bush which now lay bare;
But everything in life is for a season.
As white as snow and as red as crimson,
But do work towards your dreams always and be clean;
For the smell of your muse is now heard everywhere!
And i want you to wash yourself and be clean.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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White Babies
My black market white baby dealer
Is hunting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Brings back clean, fresh white babies to me
He brings back
Oh my god, he brings back
He brings back clean, fresh, white expensive babies
My smile is dime a dozen
My lips are cherry red
My eyes are blue like the sky is blue
I got good shoulders under my head
I look like your mother
I look like your great-aunt
Sit me down in your family photo
And everyone tells me that i, I look just like you
(I changed this verse for you)
My black market white baby dealer
Is hunting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Brings back clean, fresh white babies to me
Clean, fresh white babies to me
Clean, fresh white babies to me
song performed by by Liz Phair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eternity Rain
Let this rain wash me
Let it wash my virtual sins
Clean my sorrow from the sins of my fathers
Clean my self form this dirt call life
From the false tells of creation
And clean my mind from the empty words of priest
From the dirty political speech
Let this holy rain clean my sorrow form the sin of love
Sin of being the truthful in this life
I want to clean my mind from the thought control
Clean my head form my mum fairy lies
It need the eternity to clean out my soul and my life from this life dirt
To be clean again i need eternity rain
poem by Aryabod Siharyvani
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Travelin' Clean
By: jimmy buffett
1971
You go to fargo
We'll meet in chicago
Travelin' light and travelin' clean
In a nine wheel blue and white travelin' machine
And i'm gone i'm movin' on yes i'm gone
Chorus:
No time to look back
We've crossed the last track
Travelin' free and travelin' wild
With my barefoot blue-eyed travelin' child
And i'm gone i'm movin' on yes i'm gone
Run away queen
Travelin' clean
You tell your mother
That you love another
Runnin' with a free-born man
That asks more of you than your hand
And you're gone you're movin' on yes you're gone
Run away queen
Travelin' clean
You go to fargo
We'll meet in chicago
Travelin' light and travelin' clean
In my nine wheel blue and white travelin' machine
And i'm gone
Come away, runaway queen
On her way and travelin' clean
Come away, runaway queen
On her way and travelin' clean
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Clean Money
Paydays coming and we wash it away
Clean money, clean money
Paydays coming and we wash it away
Clean money, clean money
Thats what I want to do
I want to spend it on you
Checking on a checkmate
Grassing on a classmate
So beautiful and fortunate
He hates to love, you love to hate
He can fix you for good
cause he is the neighborhood
You cant get money for blood
Blood money for doin no good
But they wont take my love for tender
Paydays coming and we wash it away
Clean money, clean money
Paydays coming and we wash it away
Clean money, clean money
Thats what I want to do
I want to spend it on you
Have you made your selection ?
Are you ready for correction ?
cause the wages of sin
Are an expensive infection
And its under the counter
Under the geiger counter
Who stole your thunder ?
But they wont take my love for tender
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Always Made Sure I Had On Clean Underwear
Now that I have aged.
And grown into an acceptance,
I can appreciate.
I clearly comprehend...
Why some then,
Thought of me quite unusual.
You see...
I've never had a dysfunction,
I did not enjoy.
Or believe my blackness,
Was for me a disability.
I had not been raised...
To become caught up in the 'self'.
Or let someone's anger strike fear in me.
When I was called names...
And could not either spell them,
Or find them in the dictionary...
I always made sure I had on clean underwear.
That's right!
I remember my mother use to always say to us...
'I don't care what you do or don't understand,
You make sure when you leave outta here...
You bathe and have on clean underwear.'
And 'that' has been my philosophy all my life.
That's the only one I've kept,
That has made any sense to me.
With few debates to argue,
Do I encounter.
Knowing if I am ever made to sweat...
At least I am clean.
And ready for inspection.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Helping Mom
I like helping my mom
Around the house everyday,
I clean my room after I play
And help her with my sister too
After I return from school
Helping my mom is so cool
I help her in the kitchen
And help her to clean the den
I help her to feed my sister
When I am not watching my cartoons
And I help her to blow her the balloons
I just do about anything for my mom
And by now my mom knows it very well
As long as she pays me that she can tell!
poem by Dorian Petersen Potter
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My Place Is Still The Same...
i do not know you that much
it is just your picture beside a clean shaven man
whose hands wrap your body as you smile
prudently, shy and composed perhaps
no longer ashamed to tell the world that
you have found the right one for you
i do not know you
i have seen you once in the market place
looking for an ethical
fabric of your next creation
i wonder why i followed you
you do not know me too
you have no inkling as to who i am
this is not a matter of love or compassion
it has something to do with a curiosity
whether you are happy or sad
whether you have written some poems for our existence
some words for our despair and perhaps some notes
for this anxiety
you will never know me for i am far from what you have heard
or seen
i live somewhere beyond the address of my words and creations
you shall never know that place
peculiar in its colors and scents
there is no texture that jibes with any of my moment
somehow, guts tell me that we are born with the same fate
or defects or limitations
that is why i followed you because i wonder how you manage
with that disability
you are in the arms of someone now
clean shaven, looking like an innocent dragonfly
stopping over a leafless twig
and soon, shall die without a trace of why.
my place will still be the same
a cave covered by a curtain of waterfalls
old vines, and dry interior where i never put off the fire.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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