I don't like telephones.
quote by Marc Bolan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Busy Lives
When someone says 'do telephone', she telephones
When someone says 'please write', she always writes
When someone says 'pop by', she excitedly replies
that she will, and what is more, she always does.
But the world is perverse in its behaviour
and most people find her eagerness quite strange.
When she telephones or writes or dares to visit;
they're most put out or dare I say, enraged!
She ponders on her life and their behaviour
she feels so very lonely and so sad.
She popped in yesterday to see a neighbour.
They said, in callous tones, 'go get a life'.
They chat amongst themselves and they condemn her.
They say, 'Well you know her, she's not quite right',
but in their hearts, they know, of course, they've failed her,
their excuse is that they lead such busy lives.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Back then, the excise tax was designed to be a luxury tax for people who owned telephones.
quote by Mike Fitzpatrick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Many of our own people here in this country do not ask about computers, telephones and television sets. They ask - when will we get a road to our village.
quote by Thabo Mbeki
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Are Glass
We are young we can break
Watch us fall
We can take some train
Down to the sea
We are glass, we are glass
We are real you can touch
Just for now
And then say
hey you, which way is down
We are glass, we are glass
We are strong we run though
We have time
And to you Im just
One of those boys
We are glass, we are glass
We are cold
Were not supposed to cry
But its all just a thought
So here am i
We are glass, we are glass
They run fast
Impressions of the floors inviting
Stay with me, stay with me
They run past
With telephones they scream
Well would you turn all this down
Turn all this down
You are replaced you are you
And our dreams are real
And dreams are all we need
We are glass, we are glass
We slip down
And old eyes dont cry for me
Cause I doubt Im and I doubt you
And never never going to doubt
We are glass, we are glass
They run fast
Impressions of the floors inviting
Stay with me, stay with me
They run past
With telephones they scream
Well would you turn all this down
Turn all this down
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Devices eat you up.
If you were to go to nearby schools,
To work in your village, buy from near by
And befriend natives you need no vehicles,
Telephones and email which all eat you up.
14.08.2010.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Boycott Just One Day of Gossip
They do know how to dress to impress.
That,
Is a given.
And they will express the best of etiquette.
That too,
Is a given to expect.
But getting off their telephones,
With a determination...
To boycott just one day of gossip,
Would create havoc for those with the habit...
Of undermining one another,
With the best of backstabbing techniques.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Once I was standing in line to buy a telephone and Senator Wirth was in line with me. The next day the New York Times reported that we'd both purchased telephones and what price we'd paid!
quote by Harold H. Greene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Need Of Tightening
Those who pick up their telephones,
Calling around to those they 'befriend'...
For any clue or hint,
From anyone...
About what is being said about them.
Has more than insecurities,
To eliminate from their minds.
There are several loosened bolts,
In need of tightening as well.
With issues of faith and trust...
Collecting dust in a cluttered attic.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I need to go someplace faraway that doesn't have telephones and doesn't have a record player and doesn't have movie theaters and people walking down the street in order to not do anything.
quote by Will Oldham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Telephones are a virtual necessity - not a luxury - and the revenues collected by this tax flow into the general fund. But this once temporary tax remains and costs American taxpayers, our small businesses and families almost $6 billion dollars a year.
quote by Mike Fitzpatrick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Darker Days
Take me to the highway
Take me to heaven
I can feel jesus, right in my bones
Looking for a high class up-market doorway
With no connections, no telephones
And I dont care what its all about
I dont need to know
Walking on water
Walking on the mountain
Ive got no whiskey running through my veins
They take me to the justice
And I wave old glory
Theres no sentence for all these pains
Cause I dont care what its all about
I dont need to know
*
Darker days surround me now Im older
Longer nights freeze me it seems colder
Darker days they will take me under now
So help me please
Take me to the river, cleanse me with water
Because the good lord has baptized me
I cant live like you good people
Ill bare my soul for the world to see
I dont care what its all about
I dont need to know
Darker days surround me now Im older
Longer nights freeze me it seems colder
Darker days they will take me under now
I dont think so
I dont know so
I keep falling down like little drops of rain
I dont know you
Tell me whats true
What is real, and what it is you call insane
Take me to the highway
Take me to heaven
I can feel jesus, right in my bones
Looking for a high class up-market doorway
With no connections, no telephones
And I dont care what its all about
I dont need to know
Repeat *
Oh yeah
Gotta help me please
song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Discussions To Juice Up
We are never those personas perceived.
Never are we privately,
What the public believes us to be.
Especially those one use to know,
Some years ago in playgrounds...
Left so long ago.
Or are we that which is assumed as fact,
By the ones choosing to chit chat...
On their telephones while eating snacks,
And smacking on crap with peppered tongues...
In discussions to juice up, embellish and exaggerate,
To create what has never been there.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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St. Louis was dying
St. Louis was dying
Under the weight of
Lost telephones
Thrown away by
The deaf hands of
My computer speakers
The keyboard misspelled
The noon day sun
When St. Louis was dying
Under stress of crime
Thrown into the furnace fire
Where an angel was born
To save the weigh of
Telephone wires strung
Down the dirty and dingy
Alley in the back yard of
A renovated heaven
The key board of the noon day sun
Was dying under the weigh
Of a deaf tongue moved
By the speakers speaking
In a foreign language
Only understood by telephones
In the long distend night of long tongues
St. Louis is dying
Under the weigh of
Ten cent poverty
In a ten dollar year where
The furnace is stressing
Out on crime committed
In the noon day weigh
Of heaven’s back yard
Where an angel uses
The dark and dingy telephone
To call the long distend night
Heaven is dying under the weigh of
Misspelled angels dark and dingy
And lost in t he light of my computer
Where the thrown away weigh of
Poverty is spending counterfeit
Dollars worth ten cent crimes
Dying in the heaven of
The weigh of angels
Misspelling the word tongue.
poem by David E. Patton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Primer of the Daily Round
A peels an apple, while B kneels to God,
C telephones to D, who has a hand
On E’s knee, F coughs, G turns up the sod
For H’s grave, I do not understand
But J is bringing one clay pigeon down
While K brings down a nightstick on L’s head,
And M takes mustard, N drives to town,
O goes to bed with P, and Q drops dead,
R lies to S, but happens to be heard
By T, who tells U not to fire V
For having to give W the word
That X is now deceiving Y with Z,
Who happens, just now to remember A
Peeling an apple somewhere far away.
poem by Howard Nemerov
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am Going to Sleep
Teeth of flowers, hairnet of dew,
hands of herbs, you, perfect wet nurse,
prepare the earthly sheets for me
and the down quilt of weeded moss.
I am going to sleep, my nurse, put me to bed.
Set a lamp at my headboard;
a constellation; whatever you like;
all are good: lower it a bit.
Leave me alone: you hear the buds breaking through . . .
a celestial foot rocks you from above
and a bird traces a pattern for you
so you'll forget . . . Thank you. Oh, one request:
if he telephones again
tell him not to keep trying for I have left . . .
poem by Alfonsina Storni
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Science is Boring
There's something bothers all of us
And that is this thing called calculus
At school we wonder why on earth
This subject might have any worth
Yet when we use our mobile telephones
Or watch TV or at home
Each thing we do is largely governed by
A mathematics that's the reason why
We may live here upon this earth
Yet touch the sky.
For science is boring
And well worth ignoring
It has no use! It has no use!
Of that we know!
So when you're exploring
The net or just something
Just realise that science
Is but just a word for everything
That we do know.
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wheels
(chris hillman/gram parsons)
Weve all got wheels to take ourselves away
Weve got telephones to say what we cant say
We all got higher and higher every day
Come on wheels take this boy away
Were not afraid to ride
Were not afraid to die come on wheels take me home today
So come on wheels take this boy away
Now when I feel my time is almost up
And destiny is in my right hand
Ill turn to him who made my faith so strong
Come on wheels make this boy a man
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Commerce
The commerce of religion stands to the alone,
A sitting of amazement stays behind;
Its real commercial value shall be managed
By the awesome and rich, by the deity of all.
Such is the power of delivery that we speak
Over a signal inside one, the signals are repeated.
Maybe the religion shall speak, may it all relax
To the honesty of the boat or the ark or the bridge.
How mellow is the sound or the noise going to be?
The real religion works formally, with telephones.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fire Starters
Nestled in the thicket of a wickedness,
One choosing to pick their own battles...
Can not fight them alone.
And this makes them upset.
With a dialing on their telephones.
A recruiting with a pursuing of an empathy begins.
Eventually,
With redundancy...
Fire starters torch others to believe,
They've become victims of treacherous deeds.
If fire starters lie about one fire started
The need to investigate further,
When those same fire starters
Begin to holler about others,
Around them that burn
As they innocently watched.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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THOSE People Are Back Here...Again
Here they come again!
'Close the blinds.
Turn off the lights.
Unplug the telephones.
DO NOT...
Make a sound,
If they should knock on the door.'
*Mommy.
Daddy.
You're scaring me!
What's going on? *
'THOSE people are back here...again.'
*What people?
What people?
You're frightening me! *
'Those people coming through this neighborhood,
Singing songs of peace and expressing love.*
*NO daddy NO!
Say it isn't true.*
'Ssssshhh. Sssssshhh.
It will be okay.
I've got my magnum loaded.
And your mother is packing a 45.
We will be fine.
Don't worry.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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