Not houses finely roofed or the stones of walls well builded, nay nor canals and dockyards make the city, but men able to use their opportunity.
Related quotes
City gate
Men may say a “natural state”
With city walls and city gates
Is superfluous in it’s greed
And in attempts to make believe
We’re all in honest company.
Yet give a thing autonomy
And choice: Order or anarchy
You’ll find that things like property
And city walls and city gates
Come often all too easily
To a truly “human” state
poem by Lazarus Knix
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Tale of Three Cities
New York blasted London blasted
Singapore -
Ripped off each other's metaphoric balls,
Crumbling walls.
Priapic city monoliths -
Blue-sky scraping bastards -
Shout about their height (but really length) .
V8 arseholes didn't care -
Pumping shit into the air,
So long as they were always there to
Fart aloud a smoggy cloud,
Laughing at the weak asthmatic,
Humoured that it seems traumatic.
Watch the greedy cities oozing
Chair-bound fat committees, though they
Look a bunch of titties as they
Waffle on about the pound.
Ever thought to look around and see
That they were dead?
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Montsgur
I stand alone in this desolate space
In death they are truly alive
Massacred innocence, evil took place
The angels were burning inside
Centuries later I wonder why
What secret that they took to their grave
Still burning heretics under our skies
Religion's still burning inside
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
As we kill them all so god will know his own
The innocents died for the pope on his throne
Catholic greed and its paranoid zeal
Curse of the grail and the blood of the cross
Templar believers with blood on their hands
Joined in the choruse to kill on demand
Burned at the stake for their soul's liberty
To stand with the cathars to die and be free
The book of old testament crippled and black
Satan his weapon is lust
Living this evil damnation of flesh
Back to the torture of life
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
As we kill them all so god know his own
Laugh at the darkness and in god we trust
The eye of the triangle smiling with sin
No passover feast for the cursed within
Facing the sun as they went to their grave
Burn like a dog or you live like a slave
Death is the price for your soul's liberty
To stand with the cathars and to die and be free
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
At the gates and the walls of Montsgur
Blood on the stones of the citadel
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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City Of Worcester
Worcester, the city of noise,
Walking along these city streets,
Seeing people busy,
pacing,
Cracked city walks,
Aged city houses,
Beautiful city air, '
Never seems to be a minute to spare,
As cars stream along,
Cops and fire trucks pass down my street.
Loud children playing in the streets.
As I walk down the street of mine,
I hear parents yelling at their children.
Dogs barking as you walk by,
Houses that are old and crusty,
Men and women fighting.
This right here is the city I was born in.
The City Of Worcester!
poem by Cassandra Prew
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It’s called the inner city
On death row I ask what happen to me
This is not the way it was suppose be
So I drag my mind trying to recall
The life I had beyond these prison walls
I see
Thin walls no privacy
Big yard, living in close proximity
It’s called the inner city
It’s called the inner city
A city no one build for me
It’s called the inner city
Yes it has shaped my destiny
On death row I ask what happen to me
This is not the way it was suppose be
So I drag my mind trying to recall
The life I had beyond these prison walls
I see
Adults sit around
Getting shot and maim
Children run around
Oblivious
Playing their games
In the filth that flows untamed
It’s called the inner city
It’s called the inner city
A city no one build for me
It’s called the inner city
Yes, it has shaped my destiny
On death row I ask what happen to me
This is not the way it was suppose be
So I drag my mind trying to recall
The life I had beyond these prison walls
I see
How hard I try not to run with the pack
But against me the cards were stack
They need protection they need someone
But you can’t protect them with empty hand
In the inner city
It’s called the inner city
Poverty, amidst luxury
A city no one build for me
It’s called the inner city
Yes, it has shaped my destiny
Political connections, fearless and strong
Dispensing justice with an even hand
Truth be told, I am a ladies’ man
So naturally they call me the “Don”
In the inner city
It’s called the inner city
It’s called the inner city
A city, no one build for me
It’s called the inner city
Yes, it has shaped my destiny
Now on death row
Soon, I’ll go
I am guilty?
No one will know
The script is written and sing like a song
They used, refused and then they kill the “Don”
In the inner city
Hah, ha, ha, a, a, a
Hah, ha, ha, a, a, a
poem by Ikhalfani Solan
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I've spoken of the shining city all my political life, but I don't know if I ever quite communicated what I saw when I said it. But in my mind it was a tall proud city built on rocks stronger than oceans, wind-swept, God-blessed, and teeming with people of all kinds living in harmony and peace, a city with free ports that hummed with commerce and creativity, and if there had to be city walls, the walls had doors and the doors were open to anyone with the will and the heart to get here. That's how I saw it and see it still.
quote by Ronald Reagan
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Scientific way of canal digging
The governments should adopt scientific way
Of canal digging with an eye to
Solve flood problem, mitigate irrigation crisis
And open up new avenue of fishery.
At first the area where flood water overflow
From the rivers should be pointed out
And nearby barren lands should be identified
Then maps of the required canals can be drawn.
Subsequently the canals should be dug up
From the last points of maps
Which will end at near the mouth of the canals
Then with the aim of joining the canals
With the rivers dynamite should be blasted off.
The government will compensate the people
Whose lands will be acquired for the project.
In this way
The government will be able to give its people
A great relief and satisfaction.
poem by Asif Andalib
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the old houses of Vigan
the old houses
claim their right
not not be changed
they shiver when
you touch
any of their
walls
they fear that you
may soon change
your mind
and proclaim
that beauty lives
in new
creations
you ask yourself
if truth is truer
when tested by the
fading of time
or its ultimate
disappearance upon
the cajolery of
recent promises
the truth frowns upon
you
you are late
and you walk upon the
shallowness of
those reddish bricks
the old houses are howling
with the winds of
change
they have outlived fire
and played on those
earthquakes and
floods
you walk away
and you simply let them be
beautiful in their own ways
magnificent
in those dresses of
cracking paints
they still look regal
on those faces
framed by stones
surely, they have the right
still to be here.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Walls
Walls of stone and walls of brick,
Some walls thin and some walls thick,
Walls so high and walls so low,
Walls to hide and walls to show.
Walls quite short and walls quite tall,
Some walls, last well, some walls fall,
Walls for comfort, walls of hate,
Walls for security, walls ornate.
Some as a barricade, some to support,
Walls of wood and walls of iron wrought,
Walls as a barrier, walls to enclose,
Some are to sit on, some to lean and doze.
Walls we build ourselves, these aren't good,
Walls for privacy, walls that have stood,
So many years through weather foul or fine,
Walls, that are yours, walls that are mine.
Brick by brick they are built to last,
Whether built now or in the past,
They shelter us from so many things,
And shield us from whatever this life brings.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Less Asylum
This fake city
encounters
a thundering
moment; I go down
coveting a mating
call from an explosion
of hallowed
questions, with no answers.
Stones were after all
stones, not gems of knowledge.
How can you make a
universal elixir figuratively
out of garbage of
human tongues?
poem by Satish Verma
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In the little world in which children have their existence, whosoever brings them up, there is nothing so finely perceived and so finely felt, as injustice.
quote by Charles Dickens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Song Bewailing The Time Of Christmas, So Much Decayed In England
Christmas is my name, for have I gone, have I gone, have I gone,
Have I gone without regard;
Whereas great men by flocks they be flown to Londonward
Where in pomp and pleasure do waste
That which Christmas had wont to feast,
Welladay!
Houses where music was wonted to ring,
Nothing but bats and owls now do sing.
Welladay, welladay, welladay, where should I stay?
Christmas bread and beef is turned into stones, into stones, into stones,
Into stones and silken rags.
And Lady Money, it doth sleep, it doth sleep, it doth sleep,
It doth sleep in misers' bags.
Where many gallants once abound,
Nought but a dog and shepherd is found,
Welladay!
Places where Christmas revels did keep
Are now become habitations for sheep.
Welladay, welladay, welladay, where should I stay?
Pan, the shepherds' god, doth deface, doth deface, doth deface,
Doth deface Lady Ceres' crown;
And tillages doth decay, doth decay, doth decay,
Doth decay in every town;
Landlords their rents so highly enhance
That Piers the ploughman barefoot doth dance,
Welladay!
Farmers that Christmas would entertain
Hath scarcely withal themselves to maintain.
Welladay, welladay, welladay, where should I stay?
Go to the Protestant, he'll protest, he'll protest, he'll protest,
He will protest and boldly boast;
And to the Puritan, he is so hot, he is so hot, he is so hot,
He is so hot he will burn the roast.
The Catholic good deeds will not scorn,
Nor will he see poor Christmas forlorn,
Welladay!
Since holiness no good deeds will do,
Protestants had best turn Papists too.
Welladay, welladay, welladay, where should I stay?
Pride and luxury doth devour, doth devour, doth devour,
Doth devour housekeeping quite,
And beggary doth beget, doth beget, doth beget,
Doth beget in many a knight.
Madam, forsooth, in coach must she reel
Although she wear her hose out at heel,
Welladay!
And on her back were that for her weed
That would both me and many other feed,
Welladay, welladay, welladay, where should I stay?
Briefly for to end, here I find, here I find, here I find,
Here I find such great vacation
That some great houses do seem to have, seem to have, seem to have,
For to have some great purgation:
With purging pills such effects they have showed
That out of doors their owners they have spewed.
Welladay!
And when Christmas goes by and calls,
Nothing but solitude and naked walls.
Welladay, welladay, welladay, where should I stay?
Philomel's cottages are turned into gold, into gold,
Into gold for harboring Joan;
And great men's houses up for to hold, up for to hold,
Up for to hold, make great men moan;
But in the city they say they do live
Where gold by handfuls away they do give,
Welladay!
And, therefore, thither I purpose to pass,
Hoping at London to find the Golden Ass.
I'll away, I'll away, I'll away, I'll no longer stay.
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Singapore - The City I Dream To Visit
One of my cherished wishes is to visit the 'Lion City' of Singapore
It is a city where I have always dreamt to go for a tour.
A city so small in size but so huge in terms of achievement
And holds such a prominent place in the entire Asian continent.
It is a city that represents life, warmth and fun
And has established itself as a unique place under the Sun.
I always dream that someday I will visit this spectacular city
Though I do not know when I will get that golden opportunity.
In The City....
in the city
the black mushrooms of umbrellas
bloom
the rains fall heavily
the sewage canals begin to sing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In The City! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! :)
In the city
There is so much traffic
There is a beautiful sunset
In the city
We have lots of houses
Lots of alleys too
We even have metal
In the city, it is busy.
poem by by unknown author
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These City Walls
There's no doubt this city's in abundance
There's beauty alright, too much to see sometimes
The summer varnishes stone buildings like they were a canvas
The rivers reflect the scenes, doubling the impact
And the people here are smart and easy
No trouble, no smashing glass or arses out of car windows
Of course; they keep the best stuff locked away
If you weren't born to money or vast ambition
Then you've not earned the right to see some joys
Then you're not blessed enough to come inside the walls
These city walls, secrets within arms-reach
Exploding summer gardens, ponds, boats, buildings
Dining halls, drawing rooms, ancient chapples
Wrapped a hundred walls around it all
Reserved for the elite, for the wealthy and the 'wise'
Still this city holds me in her talons tight
Still this place cushions me in its soft paw
Strips a few garments here and there
To keep me aware of all the beauty bubbling under
But now my times are tainted
Now too many feelings have boiled away
When I go to other cities
They fire my imagination
They inspire me with their possibility
Oh, the excitement of not knowing
Where this street will take me
Oh, the happiness in lost moments
Just swimming through confusion
It's time to go beyond these city walls
It's time to move on
From these city walls...
(2009)
poem by B. Alexander
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Forced Mystery
when we talk
we arrive at nothing
plain talk not aimed at
understanding but
to stir whirlpools
i finally decide to
end the
conversation
what for?
building bridges
on mountain tops
wasting stones
in the river
boats that leak
tops without nails
planets without orbits
chairs without legs
houses without walls
roofs without beams
i know you know
you that i know
we take leave
without hope
of reaching ourselves
again
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Biscuit City
Id like to be in biscuit city
With my banjo in my hand
I dont need no long vacation
In some foreign land
Cause the sound of my own breathing
Has been turning to a sigh
I wish that I could make the time
To be in biscuit city by and by
Oh the water is of emerald
And the beach is white as snow
And everyones got money
And no place to go
In a land of milk and honey
It can really make you smile
And if I had a ticket
I would stay in biscuit city for a while
All the girls are in bikinis
All the boys are in the buff
With the baby in between and
That makes three of us
And the streets are all so quiet
And the walls are squeaky clean
I think you aint been nowhere til
The town of biscuit city you have seen
Id rather be in biscuit city
With my banjo in my hand
Than take a big vacation
In some foreign land
Cause the sound of my own breathing
Has been turning to a sigh
If it were not for misfortune
I would be in biscuit city by and by
If it were not for misfortune
I would stay in biscuit city til I die
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Opportunity
Opportunity, it is said,
knocks but once.
Opportunity, sometimes
knocks a few times.
The gospel truth is,
Opportunity's frequency is erratic.
Opportunity is a windfall,
in true truth a one-off affair.
This explicitly explains why
To the wise the plausible option,
is to grab the first opportunity.
Striking when iron is hot
Sparing oneself the guilt
Of not grasping an opportunity,
When it itself, presents.
Opportunity to the fool,
knocks when requested.
It is there to be clasped,
when really required.
No doubt missed opportunity,
is the facet of a fool.
Be wise, act rationally
Be guided by the reasoning
The time- tested saying
‘opportunity, knocks but once'.
poem by Emmanuel Oduro
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where are your powers Babylon?
Illustrious Babylon
where are your powers now?
city of fame
city of gold and silver
city of a famous name
where are your powers now?
city of wonders
empire of sin
Babylon
city of ruins
mighty Babylon
city of prowess
empire of old
empire of supremacy
rich with stolen gold
where are you now?
city of the hanging gardens
city holding the righteous captive
where are your powers Babylon?
city of desolate wastes
ferocious Babylon
look out over the valley
Cyrus the great of Persia
with his army of men
and Darius the Mede
with his army of men
diverting the great river Euphrates
and sneaking under your walls
your 'impenetrible walls
Babylon
city of ruins
Where are your powers
King Nebuchadnezzar?
your colossal gate is open
your subjects are drunk
drunk with wine and blood
unaware of approaching destruction
living their normal course of life
where are you now Babylon?
heaped in ruin and desolation
...forever
now just a dry desert plain
and the wind goes...hush...
poem by Allen Steble
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