Related quotes: I must have been heavily...

I must have been heavily schizophrenic all my life. The me who hears what the other me can't play is the dominant one.

quote by Alexis Korner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes

Oooo...Oooo-Oooo Wee Ow-ouch!

'I'm more dominant and not the weak one.
More dominant and not the weak one.
I'm more dominant and not the weak one.
More dominant and not the weak one.'

Oooo...
Oooo-Oooo wee ow-ouch!

'More dominant and not the weak one.
I'm more dominant and not the weak one.'

Oooo...
Oooo-Oooo wee ow-ouch!

She says I'm on a pacifier.
Unreliable with too many needs.
She says I'm heat under the sheets...
But she's the one who buys the food we eat.

She says I'm not dependable at all.
And by herself she does the best she can alone,
To make all ends meet!
When bill collectors call.
And,
She's more dominant and not the weak one.
More dominant and not the weak one.

Oooo...
Oooo-Oooo wee ow-ouch.
More dominant and not the weak one?
More dominant and not the weak one?

Submissive when she comes to the bed.
Prepared to get her needs met!
And I am ever ready.

I've lost my job and the kids are fed.
I do the best I can...
But I'm not making the bread.
And my ego's thinly spread.
When the work I've done is meager.
And the words I hear from her...
Are wrestling in my head.

'I'm more dominant and not the weak one.
More dominant and not the weak one.'
OW!
'...dominant and not the weak one.
More dominant and not the weak one.'
OW!
'...dominant and not the weak one.
More dominant and not the weak one.'

And if I leave my family...
I'll lose my life instead.

Oooo...
Oooo-Oooo wee ow-ouch.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The way I write is that I'll actually have a conversation out loud with myself. In a weird way, I just kind of get schizophrenic and play two characters.

quote by Zach Braff
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eyes Waterfalling

Let me out to play
Let me find a way - to be
Let me feel the sun
Life has just begun for me
Eyes waterfalling, a world full of tears
Eyes waterfalling, but nobody hears
Laughter all around
Its lonely looking down - from here
Fuel my shallow pride
And teach me how to hide my fear
Eyes waterfalling, a world full of tears
Eyes waterfalling, but nobody hears
Theyve got control of my life
I cant break away
Theyve shaped my destiny
No use the boy in me
I go to join my friend
Hell bring me joy again
Eyes waterfalling, a world full of tears
Eyes waterfalling, but nobody hears
I lost control in the night
And drifted away
Eyes waterfalling, a world full of tears
Eyes waterfalling, but nobody hears

song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The law of Mendel

Your love for someone is not absolute
Nor is your hate for someone absolute.
Love is dominant with hate recessive.
Hate is dominant with love recessive.
The recessive can turn dominant in time.
The law of Mendel is operative.
27.03.2008

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Big And Strong

Strong man strangles universe, he drowns the stars
Blinded by the mission of a thousand wars
He's fit and dominant, no wonder why
He loves the battle cry
Strong man is survivor, he lives to pound
Little wooden crosses in the bloody ground
He's fit and dominant, his will is truth
His hand is absolute
Chorus:
And the world keeps on turning, and the sun keeps on burning
And the children keep learning how to grow up big and strong
How to grow up big and strong
Strong man takes no prisoner, favors no plea
He leaves no gold in teeth of enemy
He's fit and dominant, rises above
He has no word that means love
chorus repeats 2x
How to grow up big and strong...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mother And The Little Child

there is a feeling sometimes that there are two of us
in one room,
when one talks one hears an echo
but there is no surprise

this happens most of the time
one must stand corrected

there is a war being waged
the other one is dominant and calls the other stupid
who after all does not listen
and simply does what is felt what is wanted what is needed for
the time being

there is a wolf there and there is an white lamb
there is a witch and there is a trusting traveler of a child

one feels that this is just a cottage and lodging thing
something that you can stay for the night and then leave early morning
tomorrow and then
shrug your shoulder and forget what happened
on that dark night

when one cannot believe it and hence simply thinks that
it is just a dream
or even call it a dismissible nightmare
something that is inevitable

and as one pinches his arm
that thing
that horrible thing is simply forgotten

one goes on a usual journey
taking with him two shattered faces within him
the dominant one keeps talking and talking
like a nagging mother
and just the same that little child inside you keeps its games
not minding everything.

For as long as the toy is in the hands
and for as long as it is not too dark to stop playing

'who cares? ' that is what is being muttered.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Vitaï Lampada

There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night --
Ten to make and the match to win --
A bumping pitch and a blinding light,
An hour to play and the last man in.
And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat,
Or the selfish hope of a season's fame,
But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote
"Play up! play up! and play the game!"

The sand of the desert is sodden red, --
Red with the wreck of a square that broke; --
The Gatling's jammed and the colonel dead,
And the regiment blind with dust and smoke.
The river of death has brimmed his banks,
And England's far, and Honour a name,
But the voice of schoolboy rallies the ranks,
"Play up! play up! and play the game!"

This is the word that year by year
While in her place the School is set
Every one of her sons must hear,
And none that hears it dare forget.
This they all with a joyful mind
Bear through life like a torch in flame,
And falling fling to the host behind --
"Play up! play up! and play the game!"

poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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179

Hours-old coffee
sliding heavily through the air
and into the bowl, heavily,
whirligig, swirligig.

poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Baby Asleep after Pain

As a drenched, drowned bee
Hangs numb and heavy from a bending flower,
So clings to me
My baby, her brown hair brushed with wet tears
And laid against her cheek;
Her soft white legs hanging heavily over my arm
Swinging heavily to my movements as I walk.
My sleeping baby hangs upon my life,
Like a burden she hangs on me.
She has always seemed so light,
But now she is wet with tears and numb with pain
Even her floating hair sinks heavily,
Reaching downwards;
As the wings of a drenched, drowned bee
Are a heaviness, and a weariness.

poem by David Herbert Lawrence
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In how many lives does love really play a dominant part The average taxpayer is no more capable of the grand passion than of a grand opera.

quote by Israel Zangwill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In how many lives does love really play a dominant part? The average taxpayer is no more capable of a 'grand passion' than of a grand opera.

quote by Israel Zangwill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Children Of The Night

Who hears the screams
of the children of the night
Who pays the price
For their plight

A life full of lies
To keep
Their nightmares quiet

Who will help
The children
Before it's too late

Who hears
Their whispered cries
As they become adults
and heroin becomes their light

Who hears the screams
of the children of the night

poem by Dave Alan Walker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Play To Play

Play to play
Not for home
Not for bed...

Play to
The ground...

Play with
Ball and the bat
OR run and play...

Live your body
Good for health
Have the nice...!

Twice the day
Morning and
Evening go to play...

That is secerat
Of your life
Understand
To try with
Play to play
Day by day....!

poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just play

Play for
Any time...
Life is play...
So..

Play on bed...
Play on job
Play on home...
Play on friends

Play on relations...
Play on any wear
Any time to play...
For life is just play...

poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eight Years Old

SUN, whom the faltering snow-cloud fears,
Rise, let the time of year be May,
Speak now the word that April hears,
Let March have all his royal way;
Bid all spring raise in winter’s ears
All tunes her children hear or play,
Because the crown of eight glad years
On one bright head is set to-day.

II.

What matters cloud or sun to-day
To him who wears the wreath of years
So many, and all like flowers at play
With wind and sunshine, while his ears
Hear only song on every way?
More sweet than spring triumphant hears
Ring through the revel-rout of May
Are these, the notes that winter fears.

III.

Strong-hearted winter knows and fears
The music made of love at play,
Or haply loves the tune he hears
From hearts fulfilled with flowering May,
Whose molten music thaws his ears
Late frozen, deaf but yesterday
To sounds of dying and dawning years,
Now quickened on his deathward way.

IV.

For deathward now lies winter’s way
Down the green vestibule of years
That each year brightens day by day
With flower and shower till hope scarce fears
And fear grows wholly hope of May.
But we—the music in our ears
Made of love’s pulses as they play
The heart alone that makes it hears.

The heart it is that plays and hears
High salutation of to-day.
Tongue falters, hand shrinks back, song fears
Its own unworthiness to play
Fit music for those eight sweet years,
Or sing their blithe accomplished way.
No song quite worth a young child’s ears
Broke ever even from birds in May.

VI.

There beats not in the heart of May,
When summer hopes and springtide fears,
There falls not from the height of day,
When sunlight speaks and silence hears,
So sweet a psalm as children play
And sing, each hour of all their years,
Each moment of their lovely way,
And know not how it thrills our ears.

VII.

Ah child, what are we, that our ears
Should hear you singing on your way,
Should have this happiness? The years
Whose hurrying wings about us play
Are not like yours, whose flower-time fears
Nought worse than sunlit showers in May,
Being sinless as the spring, that hears
Her own heart praise her every day.

VIII.

Yet we too triumph in the day
That bare, to entrance our eyes and ears,
To lighten daylight, and to play
Such notes as darkness knows and fears,
The child whose face illumes our way,
Whose voice lifts up the heart that hears,
Whose hand is as the hand of May
To bring us flowers from eight full years.

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our life always expresses the result of our dominant thoughts.

quote by Soren Kierkegaard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I feel a little schizophrenic because my life is so totally different from here, obviously. And the French values are so different from American values.

quote by Adrian Lyne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Big & Strong

(mark heard)
Strong man strangles universe--he drowns the stars
Blinded by the mission of a thousand wars
Hes fit and dominant--no wonder why
He loves the battle cry
Strong man is survivor--he lives to pound
Little wooden crosses in the bloody ground
Hes fit and dominant--his will is truth
His hand is absolute
And the world keeps on turning
And the sun keeps on burning
And the children keep learning
How to grow up big and strong
How to grow up big and strong
Strong man takes no prisoner--favors no plea
He leaves no gold in teeth of enemy
Hes fit and dominant--rises above
He has no word that means love
And the world keeps on turning
And the sun keeps on burning
And the children keep learning
How to grow up big and strong
How to grow up big and strong
And the world keeps on turning
And the sun keeps on burning
And the children keep learning
How to grow up big and strong
How to grow up big and strong
How to grow up big and strong