Back in the East you can't do much without the right papers, but with the right papers you can do anything The believe in papers. Papers are power.
quote by Tom Stoppard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Monday Papers
I dont want to go out any more
I read the news, I cant believe my eyes
I push the table against the door
You know Ive had it with the world outside
If you want to know about the murderers and junkies
If you want to know about the lower east side
Now they got a map shows you where to get your monkey
You can read it in the monday papers, monday papers
Some people like a little gore
Some people always at the scenes of crimes
Now they can watch the tv more
Now they can get it in the sunday times
If you find it hard to handle what you see on page one
You can pull the funnies out and have some laughs
Take a drink and maybe you can laugh at ronald reagan
You can read it in the monday papers, read it in the monday papers
Monday papers dont ask no questions
Monday papers dont get no lies
Monday papers dont raise objection
Monday papers dont got no eyes
Brothers heading that way now I guess
He just read something made his face turn blue
Well I got nothing against the press
They wouldnt print it if it wasnt true
If you want to know about the gay politician
If you want to know how to be a star
Ladies - if you want to know about the new sex position
You can read it in the monday papers, read it in the monday papers
Monday papers dont ask no questions
Monday papers dont get no lies
Monday papers dont raise objection
Monday papers dont got no eyes
Monday papers dont ask no questions
Monday papers dont get no lies
Monday papers dont raise objection
Monday papers dont got no eyes
Read all about it, monday papers
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday Papers
Mother doesnt go out any more
Just sits at home and rolls her spastic eyes
But every weekend through the door
Come words of wisdom from the world outside
If you want to know about the bishop and the actress
If you want to know how to be a star
If you want to know about the stains on the mattress
You can read it in the sunday papers, sunday papers
Mothers wheelchair stays out in the hall
Why should she go out when the tvs on
Whatever moves beyond these walls
Shell know the facts when sunday comes along
If you want to know about the man gone bonkers
If you want to know how to play guitar
If you want to know about the other suckers
You can read it in the sunday papers, read it in the sunday papers
Sunday papers dont ask no questions
Sunday papers dont get no lies
Sunday papers dont raise objection
Sunday papers dont got no eyes
Brothers heading that way now I guess
He just read something made his face turn blue
Well I got nothing against the press
They wouldnt print it if it wasnt true
If you want to know about the gay politician
If you want to know how to drive your car
If you want to know about the new sex position
You can read it in the sunday papers, read it in the sunday papers
Sunday papers dont ask no questions
Sunday papers dont get no lies
Sunday papers dont raise objection
Sunday papers dont got no eyes
Sunday papers dont ask no questions
Sunday papers dont get no lies
Sunday papers dont raise objection
Sunday papers dont got no eyes
Read all about it, sunday papers
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yesterday's Papers
Who wants yesterdays papers
Who wants yesterdays girl
Who wants yesterdays papers
Nobody in the world
After this time I finally learned
After the pain and hurt
After all this what have I achieved
I've realized it's time to leave
Cause
Cho wants yesterdays papers
Who wants yesterdays girl
Who wants yesterdays papers
Nobody in the world
Living a life of constant change
Every day means the turn of a page
Yesterdays papers are such bad news
Same thing applies to me and you
Who wants yesterdays papers
Who wants yesterdays girl
Who wants yesterdays papers
Nobody in the world
Seems very hard to have just one girl
When there's a million in the world
All of these people just can't wait
To fall right into their big mistake
Who wants yesterdays papers
Who wants yesterdays girl
Who wants yesterdays papers
Nobody in the world
song performed by by Rolling Stones from Between The Buttons
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Guess I'll Get The Papers And Go Home
Yes, I guess I'll get the papers and go home
Like I've been doin' ever since we've been apart
I get some consolation when I read
Of someone elses lonely heart, yes
I wonder if you get the papers too
And if you feel as melancholy as I do
Until you're in my arms again, never more to roam
I guess I'll get the papers and go home, yes
I guess I'll get the papers and go home
Like I've been doin' ever since we've been apart
Yes, I get some consolation when I read
Of someone elses lonely heart
Mmm, I wonder if you get the papers too
And if you feel as melancholy as I do
Baby, till you're in my arms again, never more to roam
I guess I'll get the papers and go home
Yes, I guess I'll get the papers and go home
song performed by by Louis Armstrong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Morning Papers
He realized that she was new 2 love
Naive in every way
Every schoolboys fanstasy she was
Thats why he had 2 wait
If he poured his heart into a glass
And offered it like wine
She could drink and be back in time for the morning papers
They could take a walk down the oceanside
Make a wish on every wave
They could find a carousel
And ride or kiss in every cave
They could contemplate the entire universe
Or just one star
Or just how far was the walk 4 the morning papers
Let me play it for u one time, oh oh
Well
Hey
Shucks
Why is age more than a number when it comes 2 love?
Should we ask the ones who speculate
When they dont know what its made of?
Should we ask the moonlight on your face
Or the raindrops in your hair
Or should we ask the man who wrote it there in the morning papers?
Should we ask the moonlight on your face
Or the raindrops in your hair
Should we ask the man who wrote it there in the morning papers?
Somebody help me sing it now
La-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la-la
Oh yes
La-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la-la
Go play
La-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la
La-la-la-la-la-la-la
Ok
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Guess Ill Get The Papers & Go Home
Yes, I guess Ill get the papers and go home
Like Ive been doin ever since weve been apart
I get some consolation when I read
Of someone elses lonely heart, yes
I wonder if you get the papers too
And if you feel as melancholy as I do
Until youre in my arms again, never more to roam
I guess Ill get the papers and go home, yes
I guess Ill get the papers and go home
Like Ive been doin ever since weve been apart
Yes, I get some consolation when I read
Of someone elses lonely heart
Mmm, I wonder if you get the papers too (bah-ba-dee-do-do-do)
And if you feel as melancholy as I do
Baby, till youre in my arms again, never more to roam
I guess Ill get the papers and go home
Yes, I guess Ill get the papers and go home
song performed by by Louis Armstrong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Szymborska, I Am Drowning
'I'm drowning in papers.'
it is all about the poems
that i have written for years
they stay on these papers
and have become an ocean
where i am a little boat
sinking, i am like you
drowning but the gods
have not condemned me
yet to die as they have
given me another minute
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Papers
papers
newspapers
old papers
paper knife
paper clip
herald tribune
poem by Nicolas Grenier
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(Lyric) Setting Papers On Fire...
Remember that old fire place
we sat in front of
talking girl and taking
time out to make love
well that fire place and me
we're still keeping company
but lately my desire
is setting papers on fire..
i've been burning up pictures
old cards and letters too
don't need reminders
to remind me of you
I used to want to keep
the memory of loving you
but lately my desire's
setting papers on fire..
remember that old bathtub
we bought at a sale?
sure held a lot of water
oh, the tales that it could tell
well i busted it to pieces
and i put a hot tub there
been getting rid of memories
girl they was every where
I've been burning up old pictures
old cards and letters too
don't need reminders
to remind me of you
i used to want to keep
those memories of loving you
but lately my desires's setting papers on fire...
lately my desire's
setting papers on fire...
poem by Connetta Jean
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Comfort of Obscurity
INSPIRED BY READING MR. KIPLING'S POEMS AS
PRINTED IN THE NEW YORK PAPERS
Though earnest and industrious,
I still am unillustrious;
No papers empty purses
Printing verses
Such as mine.
No lack of fame is chronicker
Than that about my monicker;
My verse is never cabled
At a fabled
Rate per line.
Still though the Halls
Of Literature are closed
To me a bard obscure I
Have a consolation The
Copyreaders crude and rough
Can't monkey with my
Humble stuff and change MY
Punctuation.
poem by Franklin P. Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunday Papers
the coffeepot has gone cold.
I can see it clearly in her eyes,
There's no more steam or caffeine
Demerara sugar or cream…
There are no more shortcake biscuits,
Flittered away, afternoons, with
Silkily discarded; nicker-elastic trinkets.
But thankfully, for little mercies,
There are the Sunday papers, and
Lots of lukewarm tea on-tap.
But thankfully, for little mercies,
There are the Sunday papers, and
Lots of lukewarm tea on-tap.
poem by Mark Heathcote
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunday Morning
Sunday morning silence, curtain stay closed late
No one thinks of kitchens mornings in a filthy state
Dishes cups and beer stains, ashtrays on the floor
Sunday morning papers are left outside the front door
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
(sunday, bloody sunday rest)
Glass of fizzy water helps to start the day
Sit and listen to sunday silence, problems fade away
Sunday cars and drivers break the morning air
Uncollected milk outside reveals theres no one there
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
Bathrobes hang in waiting, windows steaming up
Somewhere in the sink downstairs lies an unwashed cup
Tea and toast for breakfast clear away the plates
Wash-up prepare for cooking sunday lunch awaits
Sunday lunch awaits
Sunday lunch awaits
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To My Friends and Critics
Come all you friends and critics,
And listen to my song,
A word I will say to you,
It will not take me long,
The people talks about me,
They've nothing else to do
But to criticise their neighbors,
And they have me now in view.
Perhaps they talk for meanness,
And perhaps it is in jest,
If they leave out their freeness
It would suit me now the best,
To keep the good old maxim
I find it hard to do,
That is to do to others
As you wish them do to you.
Perhaps you've read the papers
Containing my interview;
I hope you kind good people
Will not believe it true.
Some Editors of the papers
They thought it would be wise
To write a column about me,
So they filled it up with lies.
The papers have ridiculed me
A year and a half or more.
Such slander as the interview
I never read before.
Some reporters and editors
Are versed in telling lies.
Others it seems are willing
To let industry rise.
The people of good judgment
Will read the papers through,
And not rely on its truth
Without a candid view.
My first attempt at literature
Is the "Sweet Singer" by name,
I wrote that book without a thought
Of the future, or of fame.
Dear Friends, I write for money,
With a kind heart and hand,
I wish to make no Enemies
Throughout my native land.
Kind friends, now I close my rhyme,
And lay my pen aside,
Between me and my critics
I leave you to decide.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Linen Papers
I write love letters
On linen papers
Longer, sweeter
They talk
Like radios
Words surreal
Of thousand raptures
They speak
Like televisions
They vibrate
Frequency of worship
I write you
These words
On linen papers
Earnest laughs
Of many delights
We often hear
Random I love you’s
We talk of them
On endless air
These words in love
We are the lovers
(written on August 12,2011 Singapore)
poem by Chester Maynes
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As the ink begins to run...! ! ! ! ! ! !
A sheaf of papers got swept with the breeze,
Like kites my poems took flight with ease.
I watched as drifted and fell to the ground,
On the freshly mowed grass, without a sound.
Is there anything new about my thoughts?
I wondered feeling a bit startled and distraught.
What ever makes me feel they are so very unique?
Aren’t they intrinsic part of being human, felt intrigued?
Dark clouds gathered and hid the setting Sun,
Soon light showers soaked the papers, ink began to run,
Like salty tears wet the cheeks of an overwhelmed heart.
How come I feel free … I muttered to no one with a start.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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No More Mister Nice Guy
I used to be such a sweet, sweet thing
Until they got a hold of me
I opened doors for little old ladies
I helped the blind to see
I got no friends cause they read the papers
They cant be seen with me and Im getting shot down
And Im feeling mean
No more mister nice guy
No more mister clean
No more mister nice guy
They say hes sick , hes obscene
I got no friends cause they read the papers
They cant be seen with me and Im getting shot down
And Im feeling mean
My dog bit me on leg today
My cat clawled my eye
My moms been thrown out of society circle
My dads had to hide
I went to church incognito
When everybody rose, the reserved smith
He recognized me
Punched me in the nose
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Sadie
Went out last night to take a little round.
I met my little sadie and I brought her down.
I ran right home and I went to bed
With a forty-four smokeless under my head.
I began to think what a deed Id done,
I grabbed my hat and I began to run.
I made a God run but I ran too slow;
They overtook me down in jericho
Standing on a corner ringin my bell,
Up stepped the sheriff from thomasville.
He said young man is you name brown?
Remember the night you blowed little sadie down.
Oh, yes sir, my name is lee.
I murdered little sadie in the first degree.
First degree and second degree,
If youve got any papers will you serve them to me?
Well they took me down town and they dressed me in black.
They put me on a train and they brought me back.
I had no one for to go my bail;
They crammed me back into the county jail.
The judge and the jury they took their stand.
The judge had the papers in his right hand.
Forty-one days, forty-one nights;
Forty-one years to wear the ball and the stripes.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Day By Day
Day by day - look what the papers say
Day by day - look what the papers say
Stranded in the jungle
Trapped inside the tube
[you] hate your next door neighbour
Cos hes got more than you
Going round and round / day by day
On the cirlce line
Round and round
Day by day - its all work no play
Day by day - its all work no play
Living for inflation
I know I never win
Just to earn a living
They keep me locked in
Day by day - who cares anyway
Day by day - who cares anyway
I feel like a robot
On the production line
Aint got no tomorrow
On the circle line
Going round and round / day by day
On the circle line
Round and round
Round and round
Day by day
Day by day
song performed by by Billy Idol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The City is a Poet
Church basements with AA meetings
Creeds have reached into the walls
Moved by the coffee shop art
Farmers market with no GMO's
Organic friends and underground papers
Open museums alive with symbols
The rivers and old train depot
I buy you a flower for your hair
We glide down sun set streets
Castles and stores
Mannequins dressed for a haberdashery
Garlic bread and wine
High heels click like clocks
A kiss under the cathedral lights
I am the university
You are the plays
These stones quarried in blues
The jazz of urban night
Papers, names, street signs, ghosts
Grave yards like whispering time
They all come out in the bells
The city is a poet
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Sheer Egoism at Ramasola
Who else would not love his own image?
Even the crude Narcissius loved himself
in a pool of water.
We feed and worship our image
from the crude shadows in the still waters
to the bright reflections of the silver mirrors
and to the wise manipulations over the lenses
of the camera men.
We pose and change suits
giggle at the transfer of life
into the shiny papers and borrowed colors,
tailor our dead sizes,
enlarge these still-pictures
in frames and hang them on walls.
We pay the high cost of joy
of our tailored image
stamped on papers and tucked on wood,
kissed by glasses and adhesives.
And never will the price alter
the rising and ebbing tide
of the ego`s worship
to our own human form.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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