Scrubbing floors and emptying bedpans has as much dignity as the Presidency.
quote by Richard M. Nixon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I never mind scrubbing floors, vacuuming or bending and carrying stuff. Each time I do it I think, this is instead of going to the gym.
quote by Joanna Lumley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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for Cory
i was startled
about your death
i am amazed.
your funeral so grand
the people are in deep mourning
i, too.
in you the presidency
has tripled its value
destiny brought you there
on that chair
God speaks
in yellow colors since then
its voice
is still the voice of the people.
Like Ninoy
forever you shall live
in our hearts.
Long live goodness
Long live dignity
Long live humility
Long live Godliness
In you Cory, we shall ponder
upon the next presidency.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Well, it seems to me Lincoln, I suppose, is kind of a model of a particular sort of presidency, a presidency that first of all is elected by a minority of the votes.
quote by David Herbert Donald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dignity
Dignity is what we want,
As human beings on this earth;
Dignity is what we can’t,
Give up anyway since birth.
Dignity is innate right,
God has bestowed man, He made;
Dignity is cause to fight
When employees get under-paid.
Dignity, all need always
At home, at school and one’s work-place;
Dignity for human race,
Men must guarantee all days.
Dignity in livelihood,
Receive should all citizens;
Dignity in dying too,
World must assure everyone.
Dignity is what we need
In life on earth and when we die;
Dignity is good indeed
For creatures born under the sky.
Dignity for man and beast
Is a must for all, west / east;
Dignity for anyone
Shouldn’t be denied, any time!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-26-2006
poem by John Celes
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Into White
I built my house from barley rice
Green pepper walls and water ice
Tables of paper wood, windows of light
And everything emptying into white.
A simple garden, with acres of sky
A brown-haired dogmouse
If one dropped by
Yellow delanie would sleep well at night
With everything emptying into white.
A sad blue eyed drummer rehearses outside
A black spider dancing on top of his eye
Red legged chicken stands ready to strike
And everything emptying into white.
I built my house from barley rice
Green pepper walls and water ice...
And everything emptying into white
song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cha-cha Controversy
CHA-CHA CONTROVERSY
Melvin Banggollay
In the desire of those in power
In my own native land of wonder
People seems to be in danger
As the ambitious political leaders
Are making all means to cover
their curruptions with all power.
My land is crippled by controversy
from ZTE broad band anomaly,
Election frauds in the presidency,
human rights violations everyday,
Currupt political clans and hypocrisy,
Agricultural scams of the century
with joc joc bolante's mastery,
and Senate and congress rivalry
for the impeachment of the presidency
Where the congress seems to display
the power of numbers to dismay
the impeachment of Aroyo's glory
at the expense of the the sovereignty
of the people of this Filipino country.
Now they are deploying another power
with the congress magical number
To sustain the controversial term of power
of the president by amending the charter
of the constitution to a unicameral chamber
which would abolish the senate's power
to fiscalize the congressmen's fury
to enjoy their political machinery
in conspiring with the seat of the presidency
to serve the people or currupt the country.
Their greed for power, wealth and money
keep them so inspired to form conspiracy
even they had to lost their own dignity
as stewards of the people's sovereignty
as guardian's of a just and fair democracy
as trusted servant of the Filipino soceity
but sometimes the blame is not only
among the politicians of this country
but also among the many people of society
who voted them because of their money,
goons, political influences and machinery
and not on the basis of their honesty
and ability and skill to serve with dignity.
poem by Melvin Banggollay
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Gulps and emptying
Gulps of water after thirst,
And emptying the bladder after a hold
Give you through their action
Same amount of relief.
Gulps and emptying are the way of life,
And in them we get relief, which is pleasure.
28.03.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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What should move us to action is human dignity: the inalienable dignity of the oppressed, but also the dignity of each of us. We lose dignity if we tolerate the intolerable.
quote by Dominique de Menil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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old people in homes,
bedpans, needles in their arms,
memories erased!
haiku by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just Poor Folks!
just poor folks,
living in an old house,
sleeping in a corner
'neath old handmade quilts.
scrubbing scarred floors
with pinesol pride mops....
while the smell of cornbread and
beans hangs in the air.....
stuffing cracks in the windows
against the cold...
kerosene heater,
2 five gallon cans....
a bare light bulb
hangs over the table....
they sit in silence....
reading and thinking...
the old car in the drive,
might crank, and might not....
but that's tomorrow....
and tonite,
they're almost warm!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Spring in New Hampshire
Too green the springing April grass,
Too blue the silver-speckled sky,
For me to linger here, alas,
While happy winds go laughing by,
Wasting the golden hours indoors,
Washing windows and scrubbing floors.
Too wonderful the April night,
Too faintly sweet the first May flowers,
The stars too gloriously bright,
For me to spend the evening hours,
When fields are fresh and streams are leaping,
Wearied, exhausted, dully sleeping.
poem by Claude McKay
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An Ode to Desire
If prince charming
Had seen your face,
Etched in fine carved ebony,
Sleeping beauty would still
Be sleeping.
Had he chanced upon the beauty
Of your smile,
Caught the flash of your
White teeth,
Looked into your big brown eyes,
He would have gotten lost
In the wonder of them
Never finding his way to the ball
And Cinderella would still be
Scrubbing floors barefoot.
If Leonardo had seen you first,
Mona Lisa would be wearing
A different smile
And called
Desire'.
May 7,1985
for Desire' Barrett Age 12
poem by Dorothy Holmes
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Four Sisters (following seven brothers)
Ladies of tough love
you four turned out to be
forever, always fond memories
coming from the black sheep of our family
A gang of twelve kids
a tough time indeed
growing up in a small borough
north of Allentown
The scraping and scrubbing
of the kitchen floors
wiping down walls
re-adjusting the wind leaking doors
strutting to church
high heels on a Sunday morn
Hell hath no fury
liked a womans' scorn
poem by Matt Mondschein
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Suicide of a Moderate Dictator
This is a day when truths will out, perhaps;
leak from the dangling telephone earphones
sapping the festooned switchboards' strength;
fall from the windows, blow from off the sills,
—the vague, slight unremarkable contents
of emptying ash-trays; rub off on our fingers
like ink from the un-proof-read newspapers,
crocking the way the unfocused photographs
of crooked faces do that soil our coats,
our tropical-weight coats, like slapped-at moths.
Today's a day when those who work
are idling. Those who played must work
and hurry, too, to get it done,
with little dignity or none.
The newspapers are sold; the kiosk shutters
crash down. But anyway, in the night
the headlines wrote themselves, see, on the streets
and sidewalks everywhere; a sediment's splashed
even to the first floors of apartment houses.
This is a day that's beautiful as well,
and warm and clear. At seven o'clock I saw
the dogs being walked along the famous beach
as usual, in a shiny gray-green dawn,
leaving their paw prints draining in the wet.
The line of breakers was steady and the pinkish,
segmented rainbow steadily hung above it.
At eight two little boys were flying kites.
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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Vote For Me
Vote for me, vote for me
I want the nomination for the presidency
Vote for me, vote for me
If I am elected, this is how it will be
Ill cut your tax in half
Ill make the russians laugh
Ill feed the hungry people everywhere
Ill bring the railroads back
New trains and new track
From waikiki to old deleware
Vote for me, vote for me
I want the nomination for the presidency
Vote for me, vote for me
If I am elected, this is how it will be
Ill give detroit one year
New cars that run on beer
Or anything except gasoline
Im looking to the sun
More power for everyone
And the cleanest sky that youve ever seen
Im not going to kid you, theres a lot to do
Little can I promise, its really up to you
But if we all work together
And I think we can
And if you want some new ideas
Then Im your man
Vote for me, vote for me
I want the nomination for the presidency
Vote for me, vote for me
If I am elected, this is how it will be
Ill work for global peace
And the sweet release
Of the love and human kindness in us all
I would give all Ive got
You just give me a shot
Somehow, I know that I can win the fall
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hard Work
Doing back breaking work
Puts a new light on life
Makes you see
How to appreciate life
Getting hands dirty
And mucking in dirt
Makes you realize
That life is hard work
Dusting the cobwebs
And scrubbing the floors
Makes you just love
The hard work
You've just done
It's a labour of love
At a job well done
Now its time to sit back
And relax in the sun
You feel happy content
At all that you've done
So pat your own back
At a job well done
poem by Kaila George
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Now Let Us Begin
man if he is true to be man, is more real if he is at first
less of himself, when he is empty, when he is emptied,
when he is emptying. It is like the stomach, you feel it more
when it is empty rather than when it is full
it speaks to you when it is hungry
it grunts
it growls
it even howls
and sometimes it whistles
than when it is bloated with so much food
and wine and desserts.Because in hunger, in the hopelessness
of our state, in the emptiness of our being
we know where we will place
everything.
we will know our dreams, we meet our hopes,
for the first time
we know precisely when to wish,
and where to put them
when we are emptying,
when we are emptied
and now we are sure when we are filling.
let us begin.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In Expensive Doses
Stop emptying your pain on me.
I can get emotional,
From dysfunctional surviving.
Stop emptying your pain on me.
I'm trying to be the nice guy,
But that has had no lasting meaning.
They've given up communication!
On precribed happiness
In expensive doses.
Is why they pay their doctors.
Doctor Smooth Me,
And Doctor High.
They play submissive,
Doing 'whatever' to 'get'!
And when that's given...
They want forgiveness and respect!
And when that's lost...
The cycle of remorse is reset!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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We live today within a society that has rejected centuries of tradition and the resultant upheaval has led to gay marriage, transgender bathrooms, women in combat, sanctuary cities, the war against national icons deemed to be racist, and many other radical social changes. Ipso facto, nothing is more amusing than the indignant, outraged, politically correct fascists screaming for the restoration of a traditional presidency. No doubt modern times demand different methods and it is nothing short of brilliant for the presidency to utilize Twitter in order to bypass the Big Media brainwash machine. In a society that is in total upheaval on so many fronts, only the most naïve would expect the presidency to remain a traditional artifact, still operating in the same antiquated manner of other national leaders who antedated the current tumult.
quote by Catman Cohen (2017)
Submitted by anonym
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The Custodial Artist
Not suicidal
Just along for the ride
I prefer to live on
Along with my maker
In stride
For a soul, to withstand the test of time
When it cries for freedom
A mark that holds on to my heart
I need that new start
So, back to that school
From six years ago
Cleaning the mess
As my souls' verse, begins to flow
Scrubbing floors
Vacuuming carpets
Shining the chrome on the water fountain
That was once dull
Dust mopping the hall
It's good to be back
For my heart needs repair
I'll take a fresh scent
Through the mildewed air
People do change
If given a chance
Onward I surge
A custodians last dance
poem by Matt Mondschein
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