It's long been a cliche in Washington that if you hang a lamb chop in your window, guests will come.
quote by Suzanne Fields
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chop, Chop, Chop
Some people call me the Creeper
'Cuz they don't know my name or face
I got 'em running in circles
Because a homicidal genius never leaves a trace
I'm a lonely hunter
City full of game
Walkin' in the neon lights
Chop, chop, chop, engine of destruction
Chop, chop, chop, a perfect killing machine
Chop, chop, chop, it's a symbiotic function
Chop, chop, chop, I keep the city so clean
Chop, chop, chop
Some people call me the Ripper
Stole my modus operandi from the movie screen
She's just a celluloid stripper
Just another bloody player in my splatter-filled dream
Women on the streets
Want money when we meet
I take them for a little ride
Chop, chop, chop, engine of destruction
Chop, chop, chop, a perfect killing machine
Chop, chop, chop, it's symbiotic function
Chop, chop, chop, I keep the city so clean
Chop, chop, chop
She was standing on the corner
With her bright red lips
Her face was so white and pale (so pale)
She had a black leather skirt
That was tight to her hips
And an anklet with a name
It spelled M A R Y..... Gail
Gail Gail Gail Gail
Gail Gail Gail Gail
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pork Chops are Fun
chop chop chop the pork squeals over dinner
with it's fatty bits and tasty bites
it marinates on a stick over hot coal
who will taste it first who will finish the bowl
Wow Pork Chops with red wine
then dinner will be divine
chop chop chop the pork is done
with ginger, wine and lots of fun
it's time to have with a salty bun
chop chop chop see it go in the oven my friends
it's dinner time lets eat it all
then lets sit together and have a ball
chop chop chop the pork tastes good
with the meat so tender it bloody weel should
sometimes on the pan sometimes as a roast
call your freinds for dinner it's a dish one can boast
chop chop chop the pork is done
sprikle a little wine to make things bright
then the meat put it on light
watch it burn and tremble with delight
chop chop chop my pork chops are done
poem by Anuj Tikku
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Lamb Dragonfly
I have no answer for you little lamb
I can help you out / but I cannot help you in
Sometimes you think that life is hard
And this is only one of them
My heart is breaking for you little lamb
I can help you out / but we may never meet again
La la la la la la la la ... etc.
Dragonfly fly by my window
You and I still have a way to go
Dont know why you hang around my door
I dont live here any more
Since you ve gone I never know
I go on, but I miss you so
Dragonfly dont keep me waiting
Im waiting cant you see me Im waiting
When we try well have a way to go
Dragonfly youve been away too long
How did two rights make a wrong
Since youve gone I never know I go on
But I miss you so in my heart
I feel the pain
Keeps coming back again
Dragonfly fly by my window
Im flying cant you see me Im flying
You and I can find a way to see
Dragonfly the years ahead will show
How little we really know
Since youve gone its never right they go on
The lonely nights, come on home
And make it right
My heart is aching for you little lamb
I can help you out / but I cannot help you in
La la la la la la la la ... etc.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, frisking along;
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, bleating a song;
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, wearing fur-coat,
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, looking so bright!
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, eating green grass,
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, let me first pass,
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, grazing so nice,
Wooly Lamb, Wooly Lamb, what a surprise!
One of my first Children's Rhymes
poem by John Celes
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Poke Chop Sandwich
(about lightnin hopkins drummer who used to keep a porkchop sandwich on his floor tom, for snacking during the breaks. recorded with hopkins drummer, spider, present in the studio.)
Poke
Better watch that
Poke chop sandwichwaitin in th? sack
Ridin a tom tom, a double fat back
Got my poke chop sandwich? /p>
Layin on da drum
Poke chop greazyIm gonna get some
Get some a? dat poke chop
Poke chop sandwich
Poke chop
Poke chop sandwich
Yeah yeah twenty five
Louisiana back beat and th? texas bop
Do a hollywood shuffle jes? cant top it
New york turn around and
Th? london stomp
African good luck combination
I know that ya want
Poke chop
Poke chop sandwich
Poke chop
Double poke chop sandwich
Play on
Spider & lightnin hopkins got
Th? big bad beat
Aint no question what they gonna eat
Spider wanna a bottle,
Lightnin? wanna a can
Theyll take in a bucket
cause they dam well can
A poke chop
A poke at dat chop
Cut dat poke chope
Poke chop sandwich
Feel like, I feel like a poke chop sandwich
Give me dat sandwich in wax paper
Pork chop sandwich
song performed by by ZZ Top
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Choppin' Wood
(Van Morrison)
You wired the trains and went back home to St. Claire's shores
Before you became a spark down at the yard
You were passing through those hungry years alone
You were just trying to make a living out in Detroit
When you came back off the boats you didn't want to go anywhere
You sit down to TV in your favourite chair
You watch the big picture fade away down at Harland and Wolff
But you still kept on choppin' wood
And you came back home to Belfast
So you could be with us like
You lived your life of quiet desperation on the side
Going to the shipyard in the morning on your bike
Well the spark was gone but you carried on
You always did the best you could
You sent for us once but everything fell through
But you still kept on choppin' wood choppin' wood
Well you came back home to Belfast
So you could be with us like
And you lived a life of quiet desperation on the side
Going to the shipyard in the morning on your bike
WeIl the spark was gone but you carried on
Well you did just the best that you could
You sent for us one time but everything fell through
But you still kept on choppin' wood
Kept on choppin'wood
Kept on choppin' wood
Local man chops wood
You know you did the best you could
Well everything just fell through
Kept on choppin' wood
Chop, chop, chop, chop, chop,
Chop, chop, chop, chop, chop,
Chop, chop, chop, keep on choppin'
Chop, chop, chop, choppin' wood
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Clichés I Have Loved
‘My life has been one long…
cliché! …’ she sobbed.
He put his sunburned
muscular forearm flecked
with golden hairs
around her shaking shoulders.
She lifted her tear-brimmed,
reddening eyes to meet
his steady gaze.
‘Oh my darling..’
she breathed.
And they fell into
a passionate
cliché..
I’ve said it before and
I’ll say it again.
One man’s cliché is
another woman’s love-byte.
John Ciardi said,
The craft of poetry
is not easy.
It is better than easy.
It is joyously difficult.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just to 'Hang' In There
We've all seen them rush,
To meet and greet new guests.
With impressions made.
And in fresh dress...
To do their best,
To be the ones addressed.
We've all seen them rush,
To meet and greet new guests.
Especially the ones who profess,
To be those righteous.
But disguising their true selves,
As pests who love to gossip.
We've all seen them rush,
To meet and greet new guests.
To get those same guests...
To get upset and leave.
And the actions of those responsible,
Seem as natural as the scenery.
If one is not in constant movement.
And movement is a required necessity.
For anyone who stays around.
And not just to 'hang' in there!
For the purpose to keep this reviewed,
With the same complaints to report...
On a daily basis.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Video Crime
Aint got room for charity
Skeletons man
Me, Im crawling with no cash
Chop it up
Me, Im looking for hot flesh
Chop it up
This skeletons mine
Chop it up
Chop it up
Blood on video-video crime
Video crime
Needles and pins and video crime
Video crime
Ive got dollars-Ive got sense
Wonder where the third world went
Aint got time for honeymoon
Chop it up
Trash time bundy, death row chic
Chop it up
Haunt this street from half past ten
Chop it up
Blood on video-video crime
Video crime
Needles and pins and video crime
Video crime
Late night cannibal-cripples decay
Just cant tear my eyes away
Aint got no room for charity
This skeletons mine
Aint got room for hollywood
Chop it up
Me, Im crawling with no cash
Chop it up
Blood on video-video crime
Video crime
Needles and pins and video crime
Video crime
Ive got dollars Ive got sense
Wonder where the third world went
Video crime
Chop it up
Video crime
Chop it up
Video crime
Chop it up
Video crime
Chop it up
Video crime
Chop it up
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lefty Grove could throw a lamb chop past a wolf.
quote by Arthur Baer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sing, Song, Swing
Choppity chop chop, chop chopsticks
Choppity chop chop, chop till six
Choppity chop chop, chops the thing
When charlie chingee make his sing song swing
Charlie ching
Make his sing song swing
With a tingaling
On the ding dong ding
With a tingaling on the ding dong ding
Makee plenty sing song swing
Choppity chop chop, chop chopsticks
Choppity chop chop, chop till six
Choppity chop chop, chops the thing
When charlie chingee make his sing song swing
Foo yung foo
Makee doodle-doo
With a toot or two
On the flute bamboo
And the doodle-doo and the tingaling
Makee plenty sing song swing
Choppity chop chop, chop chopsticks
Choppity chop chop, chop till six
Choppity chop chop, chops the thing
When charlie chingee make his sing song swing
{instrumental interlude}
{scat}
And a tingaling on the ding dong ding
Makee plenty sing song swing
Chop chop choppity, chop chopsticks
Chop chop choppity, chop till six
Choppity chop chop, chops the thing
When charlie chingee make his sing song swing
Choppa choppa choppity, chop chopsticks
Choppity choppity, chop till six
Choppity chop chop, chops the thing
When charlie chingee make his swing
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Panic
Panic on the streets of london
Panic on the streets of birmingham
I wonder to myself
Could life ever be sane again ?
The leeds side-streets that you slip down
I wonder to myself
Hopes may rise on the grasmere
But honey pie, you're not safe here
So you run down
To the safety of the town
But there's panic on the streets of carlisle
Dublin, dundee, humberside
I wonder to myself
Burn down the disco
Hang the blessed dj
Because the music that they constantly play
It says nothing to me about my life
Hang the blessed dj
Because the music they constantly play
On the leeds side-streets that you slip down
Or provincial towns you jog 'round
Hang the dj, hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj
Hang the dj, hang the dj
Thankyou ...
song performed by by Smiths
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am A Cliche
I am a cliche I am a cliche
I am a cliche I am a cliche
I am a cliche you've seen before
I am a cliche that lives next door
I am a cliche you know what I mean
I am a cliche pink is obscene
Yama yama yama yama yama yama
Boredom boredom boring boredom
Yama yama yama yama yama yama
Boredom boredom boring boredom
song performed by by X-Ray Spex
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am A Cliche
I am a cliche I am a cliche
I am a cliche I am a cliche
I am a cliche you've seen before
I am a cliche that lives next door
I am a cliche you know what I mean
I am a cliche pink is obscene
Yama yama yama yama yama yama
Boredom boredom boring boredom
Yama yama yama yama yama yama
Boredom boredom boring boredom
song performed by by X-Ray Spex
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lullaby
Bedtime 's come fu' little boys.
Po' little lamb.
Too tiahed out to make a noise,
Po' little lamb.
You gwine t' have to-morrer sho'?
Yes, you tole me dat befo',
Don't you fool me, chile, no mo',
Po' little lamb.
You been bad de livelong day,
Po' little lamb.
Th'owin' stones an' runnin' 'way,
Po' little lamb.
My, but you 's a-runnin' wil',
Look jes' lak some po' folks chile;
Mam' gwine whup you atter while,
Po' little lamb.
Come hyeah! you mos' tiahed to def,
Po' little lamb.
Played yo'se'f clean out o' bref,
Po' little lamb.
See dem han's now--sich a sight!
Would you evah b'lieve dey's white?
Stan' still twell I wash 'em right,
Po' little lamb.
Jes' cain't hol' yo' haid up straight,
Po' little lamb.
Had n't oughter played so late,
Po' little lamb.
Mammy do' know whut she 'd do,
Ef de chillun's all lak you;
You 's a caution now fu' true,
Po' little lamb.
Lay yo' haid down in my lap,
Po' little lamb.
Y' ought to have a right good slap,
Po' little lamb.
You been runnin' roun' a heap.
Shet dem eyes an' don't you peep,
Dah now, dah now, go to sleep,
Po' little lamb.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Yesterdays Men
An insolent speck of youth
Being taken for a walk
So tightly by the ear
That he can hardly talk
Yesterdays men hang to today
To sing in the old-fashioned way
It must get better in the long run
Has to get better in the long run
A metropolitan marathon
Has been held today
But who you need to catch
Will be coming the other way
Yesterdays men hang to today
To sing in any old way
It must get better in the long run
Has to get better in the long run
Because when youre told to start
How far can you go
When your race is won
And you already know
Because when youre told to stop
How far will you go
When your race is run
And you already know
Yesterdays men hang to today,
To sing in any old way,
It must get better in the long run
Has to get better in the long run
Will it get better in the long run
Will we be here in the long run
Yesterdays men hang to today,
To sing in any old way,
It must get better in the long run
Has to get better in the long run
Will it get better in the long run
Will we be here in the long run
Do, do, do, hang on in the long run.
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just Fit In, We're Going
here comes the sun, is a cliche.
i put a spell on you, is another cliche.
i think i love you, most abused cliche.
you complete me, movie cliche,
strawberry fields,
scents of magnolia, fresh and soothing,
vanilla ice cream,
chocolate Popsicle,
mint puffs,
and cotton candy, and black forest.
coca-cola and ice cubes,
inside a glass
against the summer sun
your lips sucking the straw
your face covered with my shadow.
i am no longer conscious about their
taboos
got mine, and i like it
when i am finally free.
i store more cliches and
lick them
like Popsicle on a hot
summer day.
no hard feelings. Just fit in.
we're going.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hymn
O li'l' lamb out in de col',
De Mastah call you to de fol',
O li'l' lamb!
He hyeah you bleatin' on de hill;
Come hyeah an' keep yo' mou'nin' still,
O li'l' lamb!
De Mastah sen' de Shepud fo'f;
He wandah souf, he wandah no'f,
O li'l' lamb!
He wandah eas', he wandah wes';
De win' a-wrenchin' at his breas',
O li'l' lamb!
Oh, tell de Shepud whaih you hide;
He want you walkin' by his side,
O li'l' lamb!
He know you weak, he know you so';
But come, don' stay away no mo',
O li'l' lamb!
An' af'ah while de lamb he hyeah
De Shepud's voice a-callin' cleah--
Sweet li'l' lamb!
He answah f'om de brambles thick,
'O Shepud, I's a-comin' quick'--
O li'l' lamb!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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The Mind bouncing into Mud
rich but have the right connection
to get a government education loan
and later the audacity to default on payment
- spending the loot on all things that
the poor could only dream of
extending that low ranking
former cop driving
the mercedes three bows
but give that laureate
who just won a top literary award
a mere bewildering glance
build build build more houses, factories,
chop, chop, chop the trees
ravaging the environmental
to flood the whole city with their foolleries
a convicted bus driver
on multi traffic charges
who could still rule the highway
with his reckless driving
before his his latest feat
in ferrying 20 poor souls to
the dungeon of hell
sentencing a convict
to hang without even making time
in five years to write a proper judgement
and so on and so forth
that send the the brain
bouncing into mud
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Long Distance Drunk
Hang it up now or never
Hang it up again
(hang it up now or never)
Hang it up now or never
Hang it up again
Hang it up now or never
Hang it up again
Doesnt seem like anything youre saying or doing or doing
Is making any sense
Long distance drunk
Long distance drunk
Long distance drunk
Oh yeah oh yeah
(8 am and someone calls you on the telephone)
Long distance drunk
(you want to be by yourself and all alone)
Long distance drunk
song performed by by Modest Mouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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