Many people hear voices when no-one is there. Some of them are called mad and are shut up on rooms where they stare at the walls all day. Others are called writers and they do pretty much the same thing.
quote by Meg Chittenden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chat Room For Lonely People
Thoughts are the very essence
Of human existence
Even though they sometimes create discord
Whether you express them via your vocal cords
Or through your keyboard
When you are bored.
Didn't folks used to have rooms
Called drawing rooms?
But now all that is left
Is our 'privacy' of which we are bereft.
So, instead of drawing rooms
We have chat rooms
For lonely people
Who would like to chat with friendly people.
poem by Lonely People Champion
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pablo Picasso
Well some people try to pick up girls
And get called assholes
This never happened to Pablo Picasso
He could walk down your street
And girls could not resist his stare and
So Pablo Picasso was never called an asshole
Well the girls would turn the color
Of the avocado when he would drive
Down their street in his El Dorado
He could walk down your street
And girls could not resist his stare
Pablo Picasso never got called an asshole
Not like you
Alright
Well he was only 5'3"
But girls could not resist his stare
Pablo Picasso never got called an asshole
Not in New York
Oh well be not schmuck, be not obnoxious,
Be not bellbottom bummer or asshole
Remember the story of Pablo Picasso
He could walk down your street
And girls could not resist his stare
Pablo Picasso was never called an asshole
Alright this is it
Some people try to pick up girls
And they get called an asshole
This never happened to Pablo Picasso
He could walk down your street
And girls could not resist his stare and so
Pablo Picasso was never called...
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Star 69
You dont have to take the bar exam to see
What you did is ignoramus 103
Where have I got to hang my hat
You dont have line to me
All this just to be your friend
I was there to tell you
Extortion and arson, petty larceny
I know you called. I know you called. I know you called.
I know you called. I know you called. I know you hung up my line.
Star 69.
I know all about the warehouse fire.
I know squirrelies didnt chew the wire.
Three people have my number, the other two were with me.
I dont stand tall, but Im not your patsy.
This time you have gone too far with me.
I know you called. I know you called. I know you called.
I know you called. I know you called. I know you hung up my line.
Star 69.
Whyd you put your quarter down on me?
This reads like some dark inside edition, hard copy.
I cant be your character witness, I cant be your alibi.
Dont arrange the fbi, here this spy versus spy.
You my friend are guilty as can be.
I know you called. I know you called. I know you called.
I know you called. I know you called. I cant be your alibi.
Star 69.
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter LXXX: Story
Story about future is called imagination
Story about past is called memories
Story about present is called reality
Story that becomes true is called prophecy
Story that becomes unfulfilled is called regret
Story that becomes no end is called boasting
Small story is called experience
Epic story is called history
Forgotten story is called lesson
Story that becomes obsession is called ambition
Story that becomes untold is called secret
Story that becomes go its own way is called life
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My road to success
Never be discouraged by other people's negativities towards your success. /
Stick to what you love the most some day it will turn out well. /
Some things are hard to get but are worth working hard for. /
So, it is better to support than to look down on other people's dreams. /
The road to success it is not straight there is a curve called failure. /
A loop called friends & flats called jobs, but if you have a spare called determination. /
An engine called perseverance, insurance called faith & a driver called 'jesus' /
You will make it to a place called 'Success' /
Author: Koena France Mokoena
poem by kfm Productions
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Houses
People who are afraid of themselves
Multiply themselves into families
And so divide themselves
And so become less afraid.
People who might have to go out
Into clanging strangers' laughter,
Crowd under roofs, make compacts
To no more than smile at each other.
People who might meet their own faces
Or surprise their own voices in doorways
Build themselves rooms without mirrors
And live between walls without echoes.
People who might meet other faces
And unknown voices round corners
Build themselves rooms all mirrors
And live between walls all echoes.
People who are afraid to go naked
Clothe themselves in families, houses,
But are still afraid of death
Because death one day will undress them.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A beautiful thing called YOU
How to write about a beautiful piece of God’s writing
I mean what is there to edit?
Did God leave room for improvement
Oh I see, he did leave some for comment
And praise and Glory to value
A Beautiful thing called you
Unmatched in splendor
A beautiful thing named you
That only God` s description could equal the importance
A beautiful thing called you
That only the angelic can understand
A beautiful thing called you
Whose creation was inspired by the divine
A beautiful thing called you
That the universe handles with care
A beautiful thing called you
Whose shape was sculpted by His own word
A beautiful thing called you
How do I begin to describe it
Is it by letter
Oh I see holding it is better
How do I own it
To praise the glory and the value
A beautiful thing called you
Oh I see, God knows better
The value the Glory and the praise
No, He revealed it to me
But still I cant
Bear the praise the value and the glory
That flows from those eyes
The ear the nose and the belly
I looked through the key hole to see the sky
I saw heaven`s 1 2 3 stars shy
HE opened the door of your heart
Behold the millions that were hidden
Now I know
How to Praise the glory and the value of a beautiful thing called you.
poem by Didier Sixte Kahungu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Road to Success
The road to success is not straight,
There is a curve called FAILURE,
A loop called CONFUSION,
Speed bumps called FRIENDS,
Red light called ENEMIES and
caution lights called FAMILY.
But if you have a spare called
DETERMINATION,
An engine called PERSEVERANCE,
Insurance called FAITH and
A driver called JESUS (GOD, ALLAH, ISHVAR)
You will make it to a place called
SUCCESS
poem by Pratiksha Jain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He Called Father
He remembered that fear,
Shaking in bed listening.
He called son.
Hearing the druken man,
He called father.
The womans cries, the punches,
Slaps, blackend eyes,
On she called mother.
Burying his head in the pillow
To shut out the noise.
He remembers the comfort
The gentle hand and soft voice
Of she called sister.
But the scars lie deep
A nightmare that he runs from
In the black despair of night.
From He Called Father
poem by Paul Brookes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shut Eyes Stare
Behind the walls shut eyes stare.
Closed to imagination...
And opened to self depreciation!
Stopped and blocked,
By frustrations accepted!
Fearing disapproval,
But receiving rejection inspected.
And protecting it as if it belongs!
Behind the walls shut eyes stare.
Uncaring the glare reflected is wrong!
There to drain remaining all day long.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There were a lot of utopias in the nineteenth century, wonderful societies that we might possibly construct. Those went pretty much out of fashion after World War I. And almost immediately one of the utopias that people were trying to construct, namely the Soviet Union, threw out a writer called Zamyatin who wrote a seminal book called We, which contains the seeds of Orwell and Huxley. Writers started doing dystopias after we saw the effects of trying to build utopias that required, unfortunately, the elimination of a lot of people before you could get to the perfect point, which never arrived. … I don’t believe in a perfect world. I don’t believe it’s achievable, and I believe the people who try to achieve it usually end up turning it into something like Cambodia or something very similar because purity tests set in. Are you ideologically pure enough to be allowed to live? Well, it turns out that very few people are, so you end up with a big powerful struggle and a mass killing scene.
quote by Margaret Atwood
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Thieves Like Us
Ive watched your face for a long time
Its always the same
Ive studied the cracks and the wrinkles
You were always so vain
Well, now you live your life like a shadow
In the pouring rain
Oh, its called love
Yes, its called love
Oh, its called love
And it belongs to us
Oh, it dies so quickly
It grows so slowly
But when it dies, it dies for good
Its called love
And it belongs to everyone but us
Ive lived my life in the valleys
Ive lived my life on the hills
Ive lived my life on alcohol
Ive lived my life on pills
But its called love
And it belongs to us
Its called love
And its the only thing thats worth living for
Its called love
And it belongs to us
Its called love
Yes its called love
Oh, love is found in the east and west
But when love is at home, its the best
Love is the cure for every evil
Love is the air that supports the eagle
Its called love
And its so un-cool
Its called love
And somehow its become unmentionable
Its called love
And it belongs to every one of us
Its called love
And it cuts your life like a broken knife
song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Floobie Doobie Doo
As I walk down to Bishop Street I met a girl who smiled so sweet
Now she was young and pretty too
And on a string she walked with a thing called the Floobie Doobie Doo
Oh the Floobie Doobie Doo now what is that it ain't no dog and it ain't no cat
It's not the doll with eyes of blue
I never seen such a thing as thing called the Floobie Doobie Doo
It had one tooth five purple toes sixteen elbows and a twelve-foot nose
You never see one in the Zoo
I mean a thing like a thing on a string called the Floobie Doobie Doo
I told that girl lemme take you home and maybe we can be alone hahaha
She said I'd love to go home with you
But I have to cling to my thing on the string called the Floobie Doobie Doo
Well I took her home that very night we talked a while and I dimmed the light
She cuddled close and the next thing I knew
Just as soon as it seen us in between us jumped the Floobie Doobie Doo
It stayed all night it stayed all year I never got to hold you near
I said sweet baby I wanna cling to you
But she wanna cling to the thing on the string called the Floobie Doobie Doo
Oh the Floobie Doobie Doo oh now what is that
It ain't no dog it ain't no cow it ain't no cat
It's not the doll with eyes of blue
You just can't swing with the thing on the string called the Floobie Doobie Doo
Well she cried and cried she wiped her eye she said farewell so long goodbye
For though I loved you yes I do
I can't reveal the love that I feel for the Floobie Doobie Doo
I never see her anymore she never knocks upon my door
And every night alone and blue
I sit and swing about a swing on a thing
I mean I sit and think about a swing on a thing
I mean I sit and sing about a thing on a string called the Floobie Doobie Doo oooh
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What used to be called liberal is now called radical, what used to be called radical is now called insane, what used to be called reactionary is now called moderate, and what used to be called insane is now called solid conservative thinking.
quote by Tony Kushner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Baby Blues
(bth australian version)
I wonder whats happening to me
Things are changing so dramatically
Ill search for you, youre not really there
Still I wonder knowing that you do care
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up, I shut up
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up now
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up, I shut up
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up now
I shut up now, I shut up now
I shut up now, I shut up now
He is the best thing to come my way
Perfect picture baby blues in my day
He is the best thing to come around
Sleeping in his cradle safe and sound
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up, I shut up
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up now
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up, I shut up
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up now
I shut up now, I shut up now
I shut up now, I shut up now
Baby blues, baby blues
Baby blues, baby blues
Baby baby, baby blues
Baby baby, baby blues
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
song performed by by Cranberries
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Is This Thing Called Love?
Cole porter
What is this thing called love?
This funny thing called love?
Just who can solve its mystery?
Why should it make a fool of me?
I saw you there one wonderful day
You took my heart and trew it away
Thats why I ask the lord in heaven above
What is this thing called love?
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We have common enemies today. It's called childhood poverty. It's called cancer. It's called AIDS. It's called Parkinson's. It's called Muscular Dystrophy.
quote by Jerry Doyle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Names & Numbers Games
A man who kills five people
is called a psychopath, a serial killer
A man who kills ten people and himself
is called a terrorist
A man who has a hundred people killed
is called an entrepreneur
A man who has a thousand people killed
is called a politician
A man who has ten thousand people killed
is called a Minister of Justice
A man who kills a hundred thousand animals
is just doing his job
poem by Anthony Weir
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Road To Success isn’t As The Crow Flies
The road to success is not as the crow flies
There are derailments and breakdowns
Speed breakers are called uncertainty
Humps are called hurdles of life
Neon signs are called friends to guide you
And consciousness is called Family make you aware of
But if you have a spare wheel called willpower,
A strong engine called firmness,
Car insurance called confidence, and
A car driving skill is called Faith,
I m sure you will drive your car successfully
Towards the road of success
poem by Dr Shamim ali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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