An Englishman, even if he is alone, forms an orderly queue of one.
quote by George Mikes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Englishman
He is an Englishman!
For he himself has said it,
And it's greatly to his credit,
That he is an Englishman!
For he might have been a Roosian,
A French, or Turk, or Proosian,
Or perhaps Itali-an!
But in spite of all temptations,
To belong to other nations,
He remains an Englishman!
Hurrah!
For the true-born Englishman!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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0266 This one's only for those who like it
Did Jesus, as a baby, cry?
For was there aught to cry for?
Or were His tears from God’s own holy font,
knowing, what He was here for?
The story speaks of one
who’s seldom seen in Christmas cribs –
one of the first of animals to make praise:
the inn’s pet tabby cat, who, woken strangely
by the faintest sound – yet, not a mouse who stirred –
yawned, stretched, strolled slowly down to check
that in the stable, all was peace…
and it was peace, as peace was ever known.
What could a tabby do but purr?
The Christ Child woke; his lips seemed almost
to form some first and holy word;
gazed at the tabby cat, strange creature
of this strange new world; saw it was good;
and smiled.. and Mary, seeing this, and
hearing in that purr, Creation’s praise,
leant down and with her hands, till then
pressed in her world-bearing humility -
and on the tabby’s forehead
as some mark of christenings yet to come,
fingered the initial ‘M’ – not as some believe,
her name – though happy coincidence, but
the nearest human beings may come
to praising godly human, human God,
with perfect purr of peace. And so and ever since
the tabby bears upon its forehead that sacred
M. You didn’t know? Well, take a look…
And you may wonder why
this god or goddess of the hearth
is not so honoured in the Christmas crib?
Not as some unimaginative people think,
in case it smothered inadvertently
the Christ Child – well, is that likely?
No – it was as peaceful messenger
outside the stable, marshalling in its holy role
the birds and animals who’d first picked up
even perhaps before the shepherds, that
cosmic sound: ‘The stable’s full right now – please form
an orderly queue’ – and I’m sure
I needn’t tell you that this orderly queue, of two by two,
followed the same order as they embarked
and later, disembarked, from – yes, you guessed it -
The Ark.
So this Christmas, if you still have your loved
but battered Noah’s Ark
with all (well, mostly, now) its precious cargo –
line them up around the crib, in an orderly
queue of praise.
How quiet and peaceful,
now, they are!
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Englishman In New York
Englishman in New York
I don't take coffee I take tea my dear
I like my toast done on one side
And you can hear it in my accent when I talk
I'm an Englishman in New York
See me walking down Fifth Avenue
A walking cane here at my side
I take it everywhere I walk
I'm an Englishman in New York
I'm an alien I'm a legal alien
I'm an Englishman in New York
I'm an alien I'm a legal alien
I'm an Englishman in New York
If, "Manners maketh man" as someone said
Then he's the hero of the day
It takes a man to suffer ignorance and smile
Be yourself no matter what they say
I'm an alien I'm a legal alien
I'm an Englishman in New York
I'm an alien I'm a legal alien
I'm an Englishman in New York
Modesty, propriety can lead to notoriety
You could end up as the only one
Gentleness, sobriety are rare in this society
At night a candle's brighter than the sun
Takes more than combat gear to make a man
Takes more than a license for a gun
Confront your enemies, avoid them when you can
A gentleman will walk but never run
If, "Manners maketh man" as someone said
Then he's the hero of the day
It takes a man to suffer ignorance and smile
Be yourself no matter what they say
I'm an alien I'm a legal alien
I'm an Englishman in New York
I'm an alien I'm a legal alien
I'm an Englishman in New York
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Q
I join the queue
We move up nicely.
I ask the lady in front
What are we queuing for.
'To join another queue,'
She explains.
'How pointless,' I say,
'I'm leaving.' She points
To another long queue.
'Then you must get in line.'
I join the queue.
We move up nicely.
poem by Roger McGough
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Englishman In New York
I dont take coffee I take tea my dear
I like my toast done on one side
And you can hear it in my accent when I talk
Im an englishman in new york
See me walking down fifth avenue
A walking cane here at my side
I take it everywhere I walk
Im an englishman in new york
Im an alien Im a legal alien
Im an englishman in new york
Im an alien Im a legal alien
Im an englishman in new york
If, manners maketh man as someone said
Then hes the hero of the day
It takes a man to suffer ignorance and smile
Be yourself no matter what they say
Im an alien Im a legal alien
Im an englishman in new york
Im an alien Im a legal alien
Im an englishman in new york
Modesty, propriety can lead to notoriety
You could end up as the only one
Gentleness, sobriety are rare in this society
At night a candles brighter than the sun
Takes more than combat gear to make a man
Takes more than a license for a gun
Confront your enemies, avoid them when you can
A gentleman will walk but never run
If, manners maketh man as someone said
Then hes the hero of the day
It takes a man to suffer ignorance and smile
Be yourself no matter what they say
Im an alien Im a legal alien
Im an englishman in new york
Im an alien Im a legal alien
Im an englishman in new york
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Epilogue (Nothing 'Bout Me)
I don't drink coffee, I take tea my dear.
I like my toast done on one side,
and you can hear it in my accent when I talk.
I'm an Englishman in New York.
You see me walking down Fifth Avenue,
a walking cane here at my side;
I take it ev'rywhere I walk.
I'm an Englishman in New York.
Whoa
I'm an alien,
I'm a legal alien;
I'm an Englishman in New York.
Whoa
I'm an alien,
I'm a legal alien;
I'm an Englishman in New York.
If
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every Englishman is convinced of one thing, viz.: That to be an Englishman is to belong to the most exclusive club there is.
quote by Ogden Nash
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is impossible for an Englishman to open his mouth without making some other Englishman hate or despise him.
quote by George Bernard Shaw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is impossible for an Englishman to open his mouth without making some other Englishman hate or despise him.
George Bernard Shaw in Pygmalion (1916)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I am not an Englishman, I was never an Englishman, and I don't ever want to be one. I am a Scotsman! I was a Scotsman and I will always be one.
quote by Sean Connery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0342 Like me, like you
Landing airplanes form a high queue;
Busy ants all form a low queue;
Salespersons should pretend they like you;
But only poets can form a haiku.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A view of the queue...............
I'm sitting outside a café
as my feet are killing me
from walking too much,
I've heavy bags and it's hot.
I watch a queue for Vue - Cinema,
they're showing Avatar.
The queue is getting longer
and people start to sweat.
A couple of guys down the front
start making whooping noises,
loudly, like they're apes.
I don't get it, at first,
but then I notice they're behind
a black man and they're
gesticulating to him.
I begin to feel uneasy.
The black man is big and stocky,
he ignores the thugs
but they won't stop.
People in the queue do nothing.
There's an old couple standing
next to the black guy.
The old lady starts to fidget,
she moves towards her husband.
The queue still does nothing
and the black guy stands stock still,
like a ship that's sailed into harbor
big and grand and masterful.
His invisible flag is flying high
and he stands there proud and firm.
The little old lady is still fidgeting
and the thugs are making ape noises.
The black man does nothing
and the queue does nothing.
Me, I watch from the café
and I do nothing, I'm scared.
People passing by start to gawp
start to stare and the queue does nothing
The little old lady starts to shake,
she's looking pale. She fidgets.
I get up from my seat in the café,
I will have to walk past the queue,
the thugs and the black guy.
Instead I walk right up to them.
I go up to the biggest thug,
say, "excuse me for interrupting".
Then I pick up my very large bag
and swipe his evil face with it.
I didn't know I had it in me,
I'm that sort of woman!
I'm shaking; He staggers back;
__________ and does nothing.
poem by Ruth Walters
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The Englishman
Born in the flesh, and bred in the bone,
Some of us harbour still
A New World pride: and we flaunt or hide
The Spirit of Bunker Hill.
We claim our place, as a separate race,
Or a self-created clan:
Till there comes a day when we like to say,
'We are kin of the Englishman.'
For under the front that seems so cold,
And the voice that is wont to storm,
We are certain to find a big, broad mind
And a heart that is soft and warm.
And he carries his woes in a lordly way,
As only the great souls can:
And it makes us glad when in truth we say,
'We are kin of the Englishman.'
He slams his door in the face of the world,
If he thinks the world too bold.
He will even curse; but he opens his purse
To the poor, and the sick, and the old.
He is slow in giving to woman the vote,
And slow to pick up her fan;
But he gives her room in an hour of doom,
And dies-like an Englishman.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ant's Queue
ANTS’ QUEUE
A demon garbed as human
Raped a lame and naive woman
The earth didn’t crack
Maimed was a common man
When for justice he raised slogans
Heavens didn’t go down
Goes on the long ant’s queue
Even when one ant is trampled
Under savage hooves
No stopping; no looking back
No nerve to swerve; to rebel
They yearn to live; to survive
As long as they can with no strife
No airs about their ancestors
Who together slew a vile serpent
Care not of what they can attain
United when they retaliate
Plead they, with dour candour
“Ants cannot fight wild beasts”
Goes on the long ant’s queue
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Neither is there figurative and non-figurative art. All things appear to us in the shape of forms. Even in metaphysics ideas are expressed by forms, well then think how absurd it would be to think of painting without the imagery of forms. A figure, an object, a circle, are forms; they affect us more or less intensely.
quote by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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An Englishman In The Usa
Writers: leo sayer & les davidson
Rambling round your city streets
I feel no earth beneath my feet
And I feel my life
Is crumbling into, into the sea
But I cant swim
Three thousand miles
So all I have is lonely nights
Im an englishman
Lost in the usa
And its a long way back home
Such a long way back home
And Im wondering
Where am I gonna go
Lines dead -- operators gone
And now the fear is coming on
And I hear my love
Wondering where have I gone
So Im gambling bucks for pounds
Yeah, but lady luck
Just wont come around
For an englishman
Who is stuck in the usa
And its a long way back home
Such a long way back home
And Im wondering
Will I ever get away
So here I am and there are you
Where wishful thoughts
Dont serve no use
And all the worrying in the world
Wont pull me through
So I think of love that
Might have been
And an airline ticket
Thats like a dream
For an englishman
Who is lost in the usa
Such a long way back home
Such a long way back home
And Im wondering
Will I ever get to go
And Im waiting for you
To take me home
song performed by by Leo Sayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Architecture is the masterly, correct and magnificent play of masses brought together in light. Our eyes are made to see forms in light; light and shade reveal these forms; cubes, cones, spheres, cylinders or pyramids are the great primary forms which light reveals to advantage; the image of these is distinct and tangible within us without ambiguity. It is for this reason that these are beautiful forms, the most beautiful forms. Everybody is agreed to that, the child, the savage and the metaphysician.
Le Corbusier in Vers une architecture (1923)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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To be left out in the blue
They came in numbers
In big figures
Drawing a long line
Like flocking to the shrine
I stood under the trees near the park
Looking and figured what went wrong with my luck
Why I wasn’t in the same line
Queue for so long but still feeling so fine
With their hands holding the cards
Cashing out new notes that’s so hard
Smells anew
Only a few
Like me who’re not in the queue
Would be left out in the blue
Cuz I don’t have the card
To make the cut
poem by Sulaiman Mohd Yusof
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Post-conceptual Poetics(6)
post-conceptual concept of form- without- forms -and- formlessness- with -forms will reflect the contemporary existence of multi-disciplinary arts.
forms with formlessness is beyond concept
formlessness with forms is beyond concept
Dead End Job
Words and music by The Police
I don't want no dead end job
I don't wanna be no number
I don't want no dead end job
I don't wanna be no number
The queue gets longer everyday
I just ain't no time to stay
I ain't gonna run away
All I want to do is play
Don't wanna be no teacher
I don't wanna be no slave
I don't wanna work no assembly line
A' like my uncle Dave
The queue gets longer everyday
I just ain't got time to stay
I ain't gonna run away
All I wanna do is play
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't wanna be no number
I don't want no dead end job
I don't wanna be no number
The queue gets longer everyday
All I wanna do is play
I just ain't got time to stay
But I ain't gonna run away
Don't wanna be no millionaire
Don't wanna own no mint
I don't wanna be no tax exile
And I don't mind being skint
The queue gets longer every day
I just ain't got time to stay
I ain't gonna run away
All I wanna do is play
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't wanna be no number
I don't want no dead end job
I don't wanna be no number
The queue gets longer everyday
I just ain't no time to stay
I ain't gonna run away
All I want to do is play
Don't wanna be no millionaire
Don't wanna own no mint
I don't wanna be no tax exile
And I don't mind being skint
The queue gets longer every day
I just ain't got time to stay
All I wanna do is play
I ain't gonna run away
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
I don't want no dead end job
(ad lib to fade
song performed by by Police
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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