It's only in the seventies that I put the sticks down and I moved to the front.
Related quotes
Bonfire
stoke the fire!
sticks of prejudice
and hatred...
sticks of greed
and apathy.
sticks of profit
and loss....
sticks of capitalism,
and oil....
sticks of guns,
and patriotism.
sticks of sexual abuse
and addiction...
sticks of oppression,
and slavery....
stoke the fire!
build it up till
it's all gone....
maybe we'll find
...tomorrow..
in the ashes!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I don't think a movie today that captured all the things that we did in the seventies could come close, because it's like asking to recreate the seventies and the audience sensibilities and that's impossible.
quote by Paul M. Glaser
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Football Hooligans
In the seventies it was madness
Saturday's at football matches
steel toe capped boots
braces and cropped hair.
Hundreds of hooligans
ready to do battle
fighting to take their 'end'
our mob is tougher than yours.
Police trying to stop it all
keeping the hooligans apart
as bottles, bricks, fists, kicks,
rain down in and around the ground.
This was football in the seventies
a dangerous place to be
keep your wits about you
watch where you walk about.
Then it cleaned up it's act
hooligans told to stay away
violence slowly eradicated
behave or face a lengthy ban.
But alas it's creeping back in
hooligans making a return
the seventies making a comeback
as trouble keeps breaking out.
Let's hope it's not as bad as then
as they were very nasty times
how do you know all this I'm asked?
Ashamedly, I too was a hooligan then.
poem by Kevin Halls
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I Shall Not Be Moved
You will take my breath away,
Gild my heart with your love-
I shall not be moved.
My eyes will gloat at your sashay,
My lips will droll at your pulchritude-
I shall not be moved.
You will come with religions of faiths,
A heap of mountains you have moved-
Still I shall not be moved.
You will give me strongest of philtres,
Your touch will erect my one weakness-
But I shall not be moved.
You will light my darkest paths,
Move me here to there-
Yet I shall not be moved.
You will sing our song,
Your love for me will exceed eternity,
Even then, I shall not be moved.
You will live for me,
Die for me- For the last time-
I shall not be moved.
poem by Isunge Mwangase
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On A Message From Timothy MacSweeney
A message from Timothy MacSweeney a son of Dominic Mac
The proprieter of the Star Ballroom brought the old memories back
Of the long gone nineteen sixties and seventies when i was a young man
When on thursday nights I danced in the Star ballroom 'Where love stories began'.
Dominic's advertisment in the Cork examiner for The Star Club included the caption 'Where love stories begin'
If there were a prize for advertising originality this one would surely win
In the tough game of promoting entertainment Dominic did succeed
One well known and respected and a clever man indeed.
In the Star Ballroom in the sixties and seventies Ireland's best Showbands did play
Joe Dolan, The Royal, The Capitol and Big Tom all big names on their day
The Miami, The Champions and The Dixies, Larry Cunningham and Mick Del
Of the sixties and seventies I have good memories as memory serves me well.
A nice message from Timothy macSweeney one I have yet to meet
Took me back to the sixties and seventies to Duhallow and Millstreet
To the Star Ballroom on thursday night where we danced till after one
Our young years were our best years when all is said and done.
poem by Francis Duggan
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123
From the bowery to the brimstone
I tried to find your heart
With drugs of initiation
The bottom of a barrel that drops
I understand your causes
Sympathize the motivation
But all the details of this war
Are just self-infatuation
And its 1 2 3
Nothings for free
4 5 6
Pick up the sticks and go home
Manic blood runs thick my friend
Are you looking for a clean escape
Whats left when the locks have all been broken
Young children of authority
Now how long can you be agile
Dancing between the alter and the mercy seat
Yeah now heres a chance to make a choice
Are you aware of the fire beneath your feet
1 2 3
Nothings for free
4 5 6
Pick up the sticks and go home
The basement lies within us
Our fear comes through the door
Now theres nothing left between us
As the fear becomes a roar
Once that wheel is in motion
Dont you lose what you have found
Im talking about that burning wheel of tongues
Everything that makes it go round and round
Were all born in the devils scorn
They want to see you die
Im asking you are you true
Everything they say is a lie
Its a lie
1 2 3
Nothings for free
4 5 6
Pick up the sticks and go
1 2 3
Nothings for free
4 5 6
Pick up the sticks and go
1 2 3
(were all born)
Nothings for free
(in the devils scorn)
1 2 3
(were all born)
Nothings for free
(in the devils scorn)
Everything they say its a lie
(were all born)
Its a lie now
(in the devils scorn)
Everything they say its a lie
Its a lie now
Pick up the sticks
(pick up the sticks)
Pick up the sticks
(pick up the sticks)
Pick up the sticks
(pick up the sticks)
Pick up the sticks
And go home
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A woman will have a taker
One woman is fair; I was moved.
The other one is wise; I was moved.
The third one is modest; I was moved.
The fourth one is rich; I was moved.
The fifth one is smart; I was moved.
Any woman will have a taker.
10.06.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Why We Fight pt 1 (Lock and Load)
You’ve walked out the garden and watched your hands go
From picking up berries to picking up ammo
The same sticks and twigs that build up your village
Fight off the conquers and plunders and pillage//
-Stones and sticks and sticks and stones
Gather them up to protect your home
And when needed use them on some bones
Lay them all down to outline your zone
Raise them and burn them on your throne
Monsters can’t outrun the sticks and stones-
Sharpen your spears to take down your dinner
You and the beast can’t both be the winner
It’s about time you got out of this slump
Load up your brains to outsmart the hunt
poem by P.R. Prosper
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I Shall Not Be Moved
(words & music by homer morris)
Well lordy I shall not be, I shall not be moved
I shall not be, I shall not be moved
Just like a tree thats growin in the meadow (down by the water)
I shall not be moved
Im on my way to glory land and I shall not be moved
On my way to glory land I will not be moved
Im like a tree thats planted by the water
I shall not be moved
I shall not be, I shall not be moved
I shall not be, I shall not be moved
Just like a tree thats planted by the water
I shall not be moved
I shall not be, I shall not be moved
I shall not be, I shall not be moved
Just like a tree thats planted by the water
I shall not be moved
Well Im on my way to glory land and I shall not be moved
On my way to glory land I shall not be moved
Im like a tree thats planted by the water
I shall not be moved
Oh well
I shall not be, I shall not be moved
I shall not be, I shall not be moved
Just like a tree thats planted by the water
I shall not be moved
On this rock of ages, I shall not be moved
On this rock of ages, I shall not be moved
Just like a tree thats planted by the water
I shall not be moved
Glory, glory, glory hallelujah, I shall not be moved
Glory hallelujah, I shall not be moved
Just like a tree thats planted by the water
I shall not be moved
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ghost Light
While walking through
our western town at dusk
I noticed a light on one of the buildings.
At first I thought it was a reflection,
but standing directly in front of it,
the light did not diminish,
instead it moved up and down
and then moved along the building
and onto another one.
Now I know the town is haunted,
for this is not the first time
I have experienced it,
but whatever the ghost light was
it only stayed for about ten minutes,
then it simply faded away.
19 July 2008
poem by David Harris
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If I Had Not Moved To Knock
If I had not moved to knock,
On the door of opportunity...
We would not have come to recognize,
Similarities that have become familiarized.
If I had not moved to knock.
If I had not moved to knock,
Or stopped because of overwhelming insecurity...
The me you've grown to know,
Would be ignored on the street.
With other faces that go unnamed.
If I had not moved to knock.
But something inside my heart,
Pushed me beyond my own limitation.
I dared to know what was on the other side,
Of a fantasized reality...
I needed to witness and touched.
And if I had not moved to knock,
You and I would not have been possible.
Or any other imagery realized.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I recorded the song live in front of an orchestra, and yes, I was very moved, I was in tears.
quote by Burt Bacharach
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I can't even remember when the Seventies was.
quote by Robbie Keane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unicorn 3
What was known, was known. They asked
the artist who had sat all that bright morning, cool upon the hill,
to draw the trees in front of him, as sunlight crept
among the leaves, now here, now there,
lighting, upon the moss, the dewdrops one by one
sun-sipped; when the unicorn was, in a moment, there;
there, detached, yet offered; they asked the artist how it was.
He said that as the sun moved round and caught the leaves,
a love arose; so that when that creature was, so quietly, there,
it was no different from the love.
At first it stood quite still,
as if it knew what made it easier for him;
then later, walked around, sometimes its head raised so that the
sunlight caught its horn; moved, so that the artist then might know
what moved it. It was love.
Some asked eagerly: was it then as if the creature
drew itself? The artist could not answer. That was not untrue; and yet,
it was not quite like that. Rather, what was known, was known.
Known gently; meekly; sweetly. It seems
there is no other way for love.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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I have moved on from being a British parliamentarian, I have moved on from being a New Labour politician, I have moved on from being the supporter in the active day-to-day sense of Tony Blair.
quote by Peter Mandelson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There was much woe and lamentation in the seventies that the game was dying.
quote by John Thorn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sticks And Stones
Sticks and stones, might break my bones
And words, shall never harm me,
I was told that story, when I was a Boy
Along with the birds and bees, I believe
So I lived my life, through that advice
That was given to me in my youth,
That sticks and stones would break my bones
And words could do no harm was true.
So I stayed away from sticks and stones
And tried never calling anyone names
But the sticks still arrived, in my life
And also the words of hate and pain.
But then I had healed from broken bones
And bruises and all the nasty cuts,
It made me stronger, then I thought longer
About the words of hate and such.
Because the words of hate, I couldn't escape
As I noticed them around everyday
Destroying ones soul, until life they'd let go
Or asking GOD for vengeance as they'd pray.
Sticks and stones had broke my bones
And words of hate had really harmed me,
As I look around, I can still hear the sound
Of hate, and belittlement, and bigotry.
There are still broken bones and nasty cuts,
As I see as I enter every day with a walk,
But doctors heal then, as they are new again
But the words of hatred never balks.
In my life I have made many choices,
And I hope with one I don't stand alone
Never to ever use any word of hate
As I don't mind getting hit with sticks or stones.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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My Stories Of You (chapter three)
The worlds of her, that moved the worlds of others
were also moved by another, she told me
and made me jellous
of the hypocrisy of this another.
Leaves embrace a rusty death,
in front of her
jumping from the blue skies of summer.
Trees look awkward without their green.
The ground is wet and it looks cold,
but definately a good place to be buried.
why shouldn't he do the same?
he wonders
as the two walk, over those little corpses.
apocalypse of a man's love, my love,
it's the name of this,
her best masterpiece,
one of a kind tragedy.
It's crazy but they do get to feel,
the lips of the other
one, two
....
Three times,
enough to make another chapter
in my book of you.
poem by Serban Raducu Bogdan
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In the sixties and seventies you could probably name all the great comics. It was still special.
quote by Marc Maron
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I don't like my hockey sticks touching other sticks, and I don't like them crossing one another, and I kind of have them hidden in the corner. I put baby powder on the ends. I think it's essentially a matter of taking care of what takes care of you.
quote by Wayne Gretzky
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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