I don't buy into you're on the slag heap when you're 40 or 50 or 60 or 70 or whatever.
quote by Joan Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
A Heap’s peak
Everyone has a heap,
Each heap has a peak,
Be it a mountain or an ant hill.
Priding on such heap one would die,
Each soul thus getting some respite.
15.06.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This magnificent butterfly finds a little heap of dirt and sits still on it; but man will never on his heap of mud keep still.
quote by Joseph Conrad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No company can afford not to move forward. It may be at the top of the heap today but at the bottom of the heap tomorrow, if it doesn't.
quote by James Cash Penney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Norwegian Poem
Norwegian Poem
Stormy night lesser stars were torn off
their heavenly anchorage and splashed
into the ocean, spindrift, ships ran on to
reefs and in the Ragnarock human voices
went unheard and sailor died in silence.
Black sky stars retreated into the safety
of the galaxy, the moon and sun too and
the winter night is endless, and a hush
fell on an earth that looked like a snowball
on a slag heap till spring came and sheep
fearlessly grazed on steep hills fazing
western seas on grass fertilized by futile
cries from bodies slashed to fodder for crabs
that grew big that year.
Ragnarock. “Doomsday”
poem by Oskar Hansen
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...and In Every Home
You turn to the sinister when you get the boot
Sliding down the banister in your sunday suit
Lying on a slag heap of blankets and magazines
She's only thirty-five going on seventeen
You'd better roll over and go to sleep if you don't come clean
And in every home there will be lots of time
I will be all yours you might have been admired
(and in every home there will be lots of time)
They say they're very sorry but you are not desired
Oh heaven preserve us
Oh heaven preserve us
Oh heaven preserve us
Because they don't deserve us
Holding your life in your hand
With an artificial limp wrist
And so a young blade becomes a has-been
Looking for a new twist
A year after the wedding he broke all their china plates
He's in prison now she's running with his mates
Sees him every sunday
And he asks her where she's been
She's only thirty-five going on seventeen
She's going to cop a packet if he ever finds her
In between the sheets
(chorus)
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm a bit of a slag... Some people don't think it's very nice, but I don't care... I've got hormones, and sex is there, so why not? Sex is good. Everybody does it, and everybody should!
quote by Robbie Williams
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Squarehead
Pop/jones
You can kick me out of a real good jive
You can use my friendship like a doorknob
You can make me super styrofoam
You can make me feel all alone
You can stuff hamburger in my head
But I aint gonna be no squarehead
You can tempt me with a pretty girl
You can call on me in fancy fur
You can say, just do it, everyone is
You can tell me that its just showbiz
You can turn my life from green to red
But I aint gonna be no squarehead
You can burn my bridges down for laughin, ha ha ha ha
You can call me a fool for crashin, woh
You can make me stare down at the floor
You can make me listen while you snore
You can do all these things that I have said
But I aint gonna be no squarehead
Lets go!
You can make my position low as a dog
You can trick me with your social fog
You can criticize my very bag
You can call my treasures a heap of slag
But you might as well eat lunch instead
Cause I aint gonna be no squarehead
I aint gonna be no squarehead
I aint gonna be no squarehead
I aint gonna be no squarehead
No, I aint gonna be no squarehead
No, I aint gonna be no squarehead
No, I aint gonna be no squarehead
No, I aint gonna be no squarehead
I aint gonna be no
I aint gonna be no
song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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... & In Every Home
You turn to the sinister when you get the boot
Sliding down the banister in your sunday suit
Lying on a slag heap of blankets and magazines
Shes only thirty-five going on seventeen
Youd better roll over and go to sleep if you dont come clean
And in every home there will be lots of time
I will be all yours you might have been admired
(and in every home there will be lots of time)
They say theyre very sorry but you are not desired
Oh heaven preserve us
Oh heaven preserve us
Oh heaven preserve us
Because they dont deserve us
Holding your life in your hand
With an artificial limp wrist
And so a young blade becomes a has-been
Looking for a new twist
A year after the wedding he broke all their china plates
Hes in prison now shes running with his mates
Sees him every sunday
And he asks her where shes been
Shes only thirty-five going on seventeen
Shes going to cop a packet if he ever finds her
In between the sheets
(chorus)
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heaps and growths
Every heap is as a result
Of some scoops from somewhere.
Every growth is as a result
Of some deaths from around.
Don’t beam with the heap and growth.
12.12.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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World peace
A mirage,
They are running after it,
A game,
Played by big players,
A net,
Cast by the biggest hunter,
And the whole world trapped into it.
Thou cannot look for it
on the heap of corpse,
On the heap of ruin,
Amidst the wail of widows,
Amidst the scream of orphans,
It will surely come,
When man will be
the centre of man's hopes.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I hate it when people slag us off. We had done three tours during 1970 and we finished off feeling we had just about had enough. We had done so much in that short space of time, we were drained.
quote by John Bonham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On A Miser, 3 (From The Greek)
Art thou some individual of a kind
Long-lived by nature as the rook or hind?
Heap treasure, then, for if thy need be such,
Thou hast excuse, and scarce canst heap too much.
But man thou seem'st, clear therefore from thy breast
This lust of treasure -- folly at thy best!
For why shouldst thou go wasted to the tomb,
To fatten with thy spoils thou know'st not whom?
poem by William Cowper
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The Sum-Up
It is not power and fame
That make success;
It is not rank or name
Rate happiness.
It is not honour due
Nor pile of pelf:
The pay-off is: Did you
Enjoy yourself?
A pal of days gone by
I reckon more
Of a success than I
Who've gold in store
His life, though none too long,
Was never dull:
Of woman, wine and song
Bill had his full.
Friend, you are a success
If you can say:
"A heap of happiness
Has come my way.
No cheers have made me glad,
No wealth I've won;
But oh how I have had
A heap of FUN!"
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry N Me
i've no vocabulary
only emotion
when i say i'm as fragile
as an egg
i say that after
i become an egg
if i say i'm a touch-me-not
i become a touch-me-not
before i say that
when i say i' m a heap of ashes
i reduce myself to a heap
before i say that
so many forms do i assume
before i say i'm that-
a ripple
a speck of light
a cave
a tear
a rain drop
the sky
the sea...
i don't brood over a word
nor do i brood over an emotion
that fleeting moment
i live through
simply finds its way by itself
and much to my amusement
you call it poetry!
is writing poetry that simple?
is this writing
poetry is all about?
is to be truthful
to one's heart an art?
21sep2009
15.15hrs
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just Felt 'a Slight Bump
A mother hare hit by a speeding car,
Blood on the road, disordered heap of limbs,
Fur, feet and floppy ears, what a mess!
Car driver, loud music blaring from his tape cassette
Scarcely noticed, but at night the leveret
Came out from where he’d crouched all day,
Approached the silent heap that was his mother,
Sniffed her gently, walked around but could not understand
Why she was cold and stiff who had been warm and loving.
Fucking callous speeding motorists, too
Don’t understand what dreadful carnage they can do,
What beastly pain and sorrow they can sow.
poem by Pete Crowther
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don`t Do The Crime
Don't do the crime,
If you can't do the time
It's said that it just don't pay.
But what good's working hard
When all they give you is your cards
And you know there's not much you can say.
So you take what they give
You've no money to live
And your family don't understand.
After all these years
They will end up in tears
With a mountain of bills in their hands.
(chorus)
Now your lesson is learned
There's nowhere to turn
And it's no use pleading for help.
When you're left on the heap
When you're left on the heap
There is nothing to keep you
From going and helping yourself
From going and helping yourself.
The dilemma you've found
Is you're morally bound
Now your morally bound
Now your moral code needs a review
So what do you care
You know life isn't fair
And for years they've been stealing from you.
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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what do we do to Mother Earth?
do not burn
let the leaves fall to the ground
let them stay there
layer by layer
heap upon heap
let mother earth
hug all the leaves
let the affection be
strong and heavy
let the leaves die
and rot and become
water and become dust
to dust
let all of us see this dust
we shall do what mother earth
and nature loves best
to dust we shall return
and be its permanent part
close to the bosom
of mother earth
forever
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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For all their laughter, ghouls are a dull lot. Hunger is the fire in which they burn, and it burns hotter than the hunger for power over men or for knowledge of the gods in a crazed mortal. It vaporizes delicacy and leaves behind only a slag of anger and lust. They see their fellows as impediments to feeding, to be mauled and shrieked at when the mourners go home.
quote by Brian McNaughton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Apparition: A Retrospect
Convulsions came; and, where the field
Long slept in pastoral green,
A goblin-mountain was upheaved
(Sure the scared sense was all deceived),
Marl-glen and slag-ravine.
The unreserve of Ill was there,
The clinkers in her last retreat;
But, ere the eye could take it in,
Or mind could comprehension win,
It sunk! - and at our feet.
So, then, Solidity's a crust -
The core of fire below;
All may go well for many a year,
But who can think without a fear
Of horrors that happen so?
poem by Herman Melville
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The Great Motherboard
How the human brain
Like a mammoth mother board
Assimilates and stores up impressions
Some sad, some joyful
Some daunting, some frightful
Some difficult to decipher and decode
Heap on heap, they pile.
Through recollections, vague or vivid,
Dreams, words and thoughts,
One time or other, they reel back and forth
As on a computer screen
Some deleted forever, some etched deep
Some irrecoverably lost
Some able to be retrieved
Some mouldy, sending out a stale smell
Some spreading a fresh aroma
Delectable to the senses
Some filling us with a zest to live
Some making our eyes swell
But without them
How vacuous human life
How hollow….how banal!
poem by Valsa George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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