When I work, and in my art, I hold hands with God.
quote by Robert Mapplethorpe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Peace on Earth
Peace on earth not by chance,
Let faith love and charity
Spread the desire to melt the ethnic stance.
Hold hands together we are all the same,
Hold hands together we are all to blame.
You can feel it in the global heartbeat,
As you hold a babies hand
You can see it in a child’s eye,
As it reflects pure faith in its protected land.
You can see it in a dropp of rain
As it splashes on the growing grain.
Hold hands together you Muslims and Jews,
Hold hands together you Christians and Catholics.
All you Hutu’s and Tutsi, Sunni and Shiites,
Asian and African come on, come on,
Join the bands, hold your hands.
Don’t let the human’s race to destroy this place.
Hold hands together we are all the same
Peace on earth it can be done,
For our divine kingdom come.
Hold hands together we are all to blame,
Hold hands together as we are one,
Then thy will be done
By Christ, Mohammed, Budda and
The Rising Sun
Amen.
poem by Ken e Hall
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H o p e
my little hands are always looking for you
my little hands always want to hold you
my little hands will never let you go
I want to walk and be comfortable
together in your grasp
while my little hands have not been able to conquer the world
but at the moment my little hands into a future force
hands that will always hold you
and will not let you go
smile and my little hands is hope
who will take care of you
someday - is my devotion to you
All In My Hands I Hold
All in my hands I hold
Money, silver, Jewell, and gold
All those things that man can love
I still have more though some I sold
All in my hands I hold
Brackets and jackets to drive all the cold
To keep me warm and act like a stove
That when you talk all I do is to nod
All in my hands I hold
All great names in the world I'm called
Angels can know who I am from above
And tell my deeds to the might lord
All in my hands I hold
Stories I made but some I was told
Tales still fly in my head like a dove
And some still hang in my brain they're stored
All in my hands I hold
Everything in the world to you I showed
All have
But still I'm bored.
poem by Walani Ndhlovu
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My heart is my hands
My hands
Is
Only my hands...
Not for
your hands....
So...
I want too work
My hands...
I want too serve
My hands...
I want to do about
Somthing of my
Hands...
My hands is
Free for only
Sleeping time only...
my hands is
working all the times
My hands not only
Hands...
It is human workers...
Allways for my friends...
My hands...is my heart...
My heart is my hands.....
Ok...How is your hands...?
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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I Aint Gonna Work On Maggies Farm No More
(bob dylan)
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
I wake up every morning
Hold my hands and pray for rain
Ive got a head full of ideas
Driving me insane
Its a shame the way she makes me scrub the floor
Well, I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
Well, I aint gonna work for maggies brother no more
I aint gonna work for maggies brother no more
He hands you a nickel
He hands you a dime
He asks you and your friends
If youre having a good time
He blames you every time you slam the door
Well, I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
Well, I aint gonna work for maggies pa no more
I aint gonna work for maggies pa no more
He stubs his cigarette out in your face just for kicks
His bedroom window is made out of bricks
And the national guard are standing at his door
Well, I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
Well, I aint gonna work for maggies mother no more
I aint gonna work for maggies mother no more
She talks to all the servants about man and God and law
And everybody swears shes the brains behind pa
Shes sixty-eight, but claims shes twenty-four
Well, I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
Well, I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
I try so hard to be just who I am
But everybody wants you to be just like them
They say see, while youre playing I get bored ? ?
Well, I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My mother's hands
My mother had thick, wide, hands,
callused from years of hard work.
I used to like to hold them,
feel their strength and warmth
Those were the hands that cared,
caressed and held her me close.
Those were the hands that scrubbed
and washed, cooked for us and nursed.
My mother had beautiful hands
and would paint her nails light pink.
They were warm, artistic hands
that could crochet well and knit.
Those were the hands that created,
made beautiful shawls and clothes.
Those were the hands that altered dresses
I wore ‘til they were old.
My mother had beautiful hands
that cooked and cleaned and scrubbed,
and within the things that those hands did
were bundles and bundles of love.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Cool Water
Day by day ... whistle while you work ... our
Backs are breaking ... up from hollow earth ...
From end to end ... the noise begins ... in the
Human battle stations ... and the big ones
Coming in
Work, work, work, work ... work till holes are
Filled ... work, work, work, work ... bags of
Bone and skin ... lovers hold hands ... tossing
Their heads ... tangled in hair ... tied to earth
... with skin and glue
But their skin is the same as yours
Coming in for the world to see
They can sit at the table, too
The same blood as you and me
Speak very softly .. hold my hand ... someone is
Sleeping ... in my bed ... priests pass by ...
Worms crawl in ... one dreams to be ... one dream
For all
His skin is the same as yours
Is he not made the same as you?
And some have fallen down
And blood spilled on the ground
Work, work,work
Till his life is doneu
The old man .. is at our door ... and hes
Knocking ... knocking ... as his neighbors weep
... each day repeats ... are we nothing in your
Eyes? ... someone answer, someone answer ... this
Rusted garden gate ... can barely even stand ...
Their work is over now ... and rest will be at
Hand
Is their skin not the same as yours?
Can they sit at the table to drink
Cool water
Cool wateru
And his lungs are filled with rain...
And the waters rushing in...
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Four Letter 'Work' Song
Work me up, work me out, work me flip side down.
Work me here, work me there, work me with renown.
Work me hot, work me greedy,
work me through and through.
Work me to the very marrow,
work me just like I'd work you.
Work me proud, work me late,
work me do not hesitate.
Won't you let me work for you?
Work me til I'm black and blue.
Work me steady, work me needy, work me to a lather.
Work me til my backbone breaks, and the buzzards gather.
Work me in, work me under, work me til I bleed,
Work me over red hot coals, work me like a boss in need.
Work me nasty, work me silly, work me through the clover.
Up down, 'n' in between, into a slipknot sweet Jehovah.
Work me, work me, go ahead.
Work me, work me, til I'm dead.
Buddy Bee Anthony
poem by Buddy Bee Anthony
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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These Hands
Given by God -are these hands!
One can do many things -with these hands
With love one can help a strangers' hands-
Allay and comfort the elders' gnarled hands
Clean sweep and mop with these hands
Decorate and embellish with these hands
Cook and serve food to all with these hands
Clasp a loved one with these hands
Applaud one with pleasure with these hands
Dig the soil and form a garden with these hands
Hold a book to read with these hands
Write and post a card with these hands
Type a poem to cheer someone with these hands
Draw a picture and sew clothes with these hands
Paint a beautiful scene to amuse with these hands
Play a game of volley ball or cricket with these hands
Swim the waters and row a boat with these hands
Pick the harvests and fruits with these hands
Feed the animals and birds with these hands
Seek the warmth of dear ones with these hands
Feel the soft petals of a flower with these hands
Fold the palms to pray with these hands
Given by God - are these hands!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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Maggies Farm
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more.
No, I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
Well, I wake up in the morning
Fold my hands and pray for rain.
I got a head full of ideas
That are drivin me insane
Its a shame
The way she makes me
Scrub the floor
I aint gonna work on, nah
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more.
I aint gonna work for maggies brother no more
Nah, I aint gonna work for maggies brother no more
Well, he hands you a nickel
And he hands you a dime
And he asks you with a grin
If youre havin a good time
Then he fines you every time you slam the door
I aint gonna work for, nah
I aint gonna work for maggies brother no more
I aint gonna work for maggies pa no more
No, I aint gonna work for maggies pa no more
Well, he puts his cigar
Out in your face just for kicks
His bedroom window
It is made out of bricks
The national guard stands around his door
I aint gonna work, nah
I aint gonna work for maggies pa no more
I aint gonna work for maggies ma no more
No, I aint gonna work for maggies ma no more
Well, she talks to all the servants
About man and God and law
And everybody says
Shes the brains behind pa
Shes sixty-eight, but she says shes twenty-four
I aint gonna work for, nah
I aint gonna work for maggies ma no more
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
No, I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
Well I try my best
To be just like I am
But everybody wants you
To be just like them
They sing while they slave and just get bored
I aint gonna work on, nah
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more
song performed by by Rage Against The Machine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ain't Gonna Work On Your Farm No More
I ain’t gonna work on your farm no more
I ain’t gonna scrub all your floors,
I ain’t gonna take all your friends who ignore
what I do when they hide behind doors
where they pay no attention to stuff that I think,
and say, when they pay me a dime,
that I ain’t entitled to spend it on drink,
or ladies who show me good time.
I ain’t gonna work for your children or friends
who preach of the law and the Lord,
and hear all those messages God never sends
to people with who He is bored,
like I am. I ain’t gonna work on your farm,
instead I will write me a song,
and pray that its words will all sound the alarm,
for I expect to be back before long.
Mark Z. Barabak (“He’s Digging ‘Farm, ’” LA Times, June 26,2008) writes that Barack Obama’s favorite Bob Dylan song is “Maggie’s Farm, ” performed in 1995 at the Newport Festival, when he turned electric and never looked back:
I AIN’T GONNA WORK ON MAGGIE’S FARM NO MORE
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I wake up every morning
hold my hands and pray for rain
I've got a head full of ideas
driving me insane
It's a shame the way she makes me scrub the floor
well, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
Well, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more
He hands you a nickel
he hands you a dime
He asks you and your friends
if you're having a good time
He blames you every time you slam the door
Well, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
Well, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's Pa no more
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's Pa no more
He stubs his cigarette out in your face just for kicks
his bedroom window is made out of bricks
And the National Guard are standing at his door
well, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
Well, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's mother no more
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's mother no more
She talks to all the servants about man and God and law
and everybody swears she's the brains behind Pa
She's sixty-eight, but claim's she's twenty-four
well, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
Well, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I try so hard to be just who I am
but everybody wants you to be just like them
They say 'see, while you're playing I get bored'? ?
well, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
6/26/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Maggies Farm
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more.
No, I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more.
Well, I wake in the morning,
Fold my hands and pray for rain.
I got a head full of ideas
That are drivin me insane.
Its a shame the way she makes me scrub the floor.
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more.
I aint gonna work for maggies brother no more.
No, I aint gonna work for maggies brother no more.
Well, he hands you a nickel,
He hands you a dime,
He asks you with a grin
If youre havin a good time,
Then he fines you every time you slam the door.
I aint gonna work for maggies brother no more.
I aint gonna work for maggies pa no more.
No, I aint gonna work for maggies pa no more.
Well, he puts his cigar
Out in your face just for kicks.
His bedroom window
It is made out of bricks.
The national guard stands around his door.
Ah, I aint gonna work for maggies pa no more.
I aint gonna work for maggies ma no more.
No, I aint gonna work for maggies ma no more.
Well, she talks to all the servants
About man and God and law.
Everybody says
Shes the brains behind pa.
Shes sixty-eight, but she says shes twenty-four.
I aint gonna work for maggies ma no more.
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more.
No, I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more.
Well, I try my best
To be just like I am,
But everybody wants you
To be just like them.
They sing while you slave and I just get bored.
I aint gonna work on maggies farm no more.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Key To Nothing
no more doors
no more locks
no more windows
no more box
no more no less
no more nothing less
no more six foot digs
no more hypocrites
no more emptiness
no more consequence
no more puppet strings
no more disease
no more growing up
no more happiness
no more lying down
no more complacence
i have
i hold the key to nothing
it's a small killing
murder
murder's in the hands
of motion...as it seems to be
no more nothing
no more anything
no more you
no more me
no more posturing victories
no more nations to defeat
no more speaking truth
no more deceit
no more holding down
no more pushing me
no more new world order
no more ANARCHY
i have
i hold the key to nothing
it's a small killing
murder
murder's in the hands
of motion...as it seems to be
im washing my hands...of the whole thing(X3)
i want no more nothing!(X4)
i have
i hold the key...to nothing
it's a small killing
murder
murder's in the hands
of motion...as it seems to be
i'm washing my hands, of everything
of everything we are
song performed by by Mudvayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Key To Nothing
No more doors
No more locks
No more windows
No more box
No more
No less
No more six foot digs
No more hypocrites
No more emptiness
No more consequence
No more puppet strings
No more disease
No more growing up
No more happiness
No more lying down
No more complacence
I have... I hold the key... to nothing... its a small
Killing
Murder... murders in the hands... of
Motion... as it seems to be
No more nothing
No more anything
No more you
No more me
No more posturing victories
No more nations to defeat
No more speaking truth
No more deceit
No more holding down
No more pushing me
No more new world order
No more anarchy
I have... I hold the key... to nothing... its a small
Killing
Murder... murders in the hands... of motion... as
It seems to be
Im washing my hands... of the whole thing
I want no more nothing
I have... I hold the key... to nothing... its a small
Killing
Murder... murders in the hands... of motion... as
It seems to be
Im washing my hands, of everything...
Of everything we are
song performed by by Mudvayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Autographing (Fun Poem 78)
For years and years,
I wanted to be published.
To actually see my name in print
to be able to hold a book up
and say that it is all my own work.
However, not once did I think
of the problems that might bring.
I never though of the sore hands
and blistering knees
I would get from autographing
the books for all my friends.
It is not a choice I don’t relish
as I do it with heartfelt ease.
It is just that I am so tall
and to sign a book
I have to get on my hands and knees.
Now my hands are full of calluses
and my knees full of blisters.
What more can I say,
except thank you
for listening to me today.
10 May 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why Time Flies
When times are boaring (BORING]
Then put the mind to work
Or better yet, ya bet
Hands & Mind, or Hands-Feet-Mind
All together - Work
Becoming a writer - or anything -
Put the mind to work, then go to work.
When relaxing - be at ease
Allow time to breath and breath deeply.
It's like someone said
'smell the roses before you're dead! '
Enjoy the 'Now' for what it is! ! ! !
Not what it should have been
Or what could have been.
And allow others to see things
Through their own eyes.
See How Time Flies?
poem by John E Laipple
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Sell My Soul
How do you feel
How do you hate
How do you wake up with the smile thats on your face
Out on the moon
If I was an astronaut could I get back to you?
Im out of my head
Im out of excuses so Im staring at the bed
And its you
Its you...
I hold on, I hold on
(I cant let go)
And you dont know how I feel
Hold on, I hold on
(Id sell my soul)
And you dont know how I feel
Losing my heart
Losing my pride
Id burn our initials in the sun if it would shine
I need a fresh start
I was in heaven until this one fell apart
Out on the run
Out on this empty space since all of this begun
I try
I try...
I hold on, I hold on
(I cant let go)
And you dont know how I feel
Hold on, I hold on
(Id sell my soul)
And you dont know how I feel
Hold on, hold on
(I cant let go...)
And you dont how I feel
And nothing seems to help
And nothing seems to work
And nothing isnt beautiful
Im old enough to take all the blame for all of us
Theres all the games and all the faces
Im bleeding by myself and Im okay...
Hold on, I hold on
(I cant let go)
And you dont know how I feel
Hold on, I hold on
(Id sell my soul)
And you dont know how I feel
Hold on, I hold on
(I cant let go)
And you dont know how I feel
I hold on
(I cant let go...)
And you dont know how I feel
song performed by by Our Lady Peace
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Payment
A tortuous path of neurons arced a call: ‘Awake! ’
I did; in rising, peering, stretching, bearing,
Pained anticipation saw it all:
Foretold, another filthy day.
I drew the drape: diluvian lay the ground
Beneath a lazy leaden cloud – apissing out
The puddles; irksome on the roof –
The drumming drops of bitter glee
Were hounding out a hapless me –
Reinforcing doubt that I am sound.
I left the house
to go to work
to earn a crust
without a perk
then on to bust
another straining vessel.
Trudging on thro’ mud and clay, I pondered:
‘Why a drought of happy times?
Auspicious climes were
Old and fusty books
Atop a dusty shelf
Inside a morgue-of-a-room,
Somewhere in a long-forgotten library
Down a lane without a way.’
I thought again: ‘And still I pay.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
O how I
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Work, Sleep, Work, Sleep, Work
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work:
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work.
Oh free me please with gentle ease
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work!
This odium, pounding tedium
Of my work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
Just whisk me off to lands afar
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
That grinding train of rhythmic pain
Called ‘Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.’
Poor neural circuits fizzle and pop
In work, sleep, work, sleep, work,
In trying to make some sense of all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
But Hark! I see a golden gleam -
A saving spirit of hope:
‘You’re fired! ’ He screams. What news to bear,
This wondrous hangman’s rope!
So now I’m free, released from all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
Eternal peace and rest for me, no
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Emily
Now Emily hides in a way
she is waiting for a
knight in shining armor
and I know that nothing I'd say
could make her see me
as a man of honor
but I am
now sometimes I wish she could see through
all the rain and clouds that fill her sky
and know that tomorrow brings with wings
of bird a song to fill her mind
and I am
oh yes I am
[Chorus:]
the one who can sing
all of the dreams
the one who can make them all come true
if she would believe
I'm down on my knees
but in my hands I hold
Now Emily stands at the door
a picture lies in pieces on the floor
the one where we walked on the beach
the wind blew waves
that crashed upon the shore
oh we are
forever more
[Chorus:]
the one who can sing
all of our dreams
the one who can make them all come true
if she would believe
I'm down on my knees
but in my hands I hold
everything that she wants
everything that should be
as far as her
big blue eyes could see
if she would believe
I'm down on my knees
but in my hands I hold
what do you want me to do
my head in my hands
I wait for the words
to come and make you understand
so tell me I'm right
tell me I touched you down
so deep inside
Now Emily hides in a way
she is waiting for a
knight in shining armor
and I know that nothing I'd say
can make her see me
as a man of honor
[Chorus:]
I'm the one who can sing
all of our dreams
the one who can make them all come true
if she would believe
I'm down on my knees
but in my hands I hold
everything that she wants
everything that should be
as far as her
big blue eyes could see
if she would believe
I'm down on my knees
but in my hands I hold
in my hands I hold
the ring
song performed by by Nine Days from So Happily Unsatisfied
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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