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I keep my own personality in a cupboard under the stairs at home so that no one else can see it or nick it.

quote by Dawn French
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Cupboard

Mother: What's in that cupboard, Mary?
Mary: Which cupboard, mother dear?
Mother: The cupboard of red mahogany
With handles shining clear.
Mary: That cupboard, dearest mother,
With shining crystal handles?
There's nought inside but rags and jags
And yellow tallow candles.
Mother: What's in that cupboard, Mary?
Mary: Which cupboard, mother mine?
Mother: That cupboard stands in your sunny chamber,
The silver corners shine.
Mary: There's nothing there inside, mother,
But wool and thread and flax,
And bits of faded silk and velvet
And candles of white wax.
Mother: What's in that cupboard, Mary?
And this time tell me true.
Mary: White clothes for an unborn baby, mother..
But what's the truth to you?

poem by Robert Graves
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Im Gonna Walk Dem Golden Stairs

(words & music by cully holt)
Im gonna walk, walk dem golden stairs
cause I know my jesus answers all my prayers
Well, well I know when he calls me to my home on high
Ill walk dem golden stairs when I die, when I die
Oh lord you know I can hardly wait
To reach that suite by and by by by
And now I see those per, per, pearly gate
Ill walk dem golden stairs when I die, when I die
Well, well, well
Im gonna walk, walk dem golden stairs
cause I know my jesus answers all my prayers
Well, well I know when he calls me to my home on high
Ill walk dem golden stairs when I die, when I die
When jesus says to me well done
And all my cares are laid by
Ill lay down my soul, my battles are won
Ill walk dem golden stairs when I die when I die
Well, well, well
Im gonna walk, walk dem golden stairs
cause I know my jesus answers all my prayers
Well, well I know when he calls me to my home on high
Ill walk dem golden stairs when I die, when I die
Well, well
Im gonna walk, walk dem golden stairs
cause I know my jesus answers all my prayers
Well, well I know when he calls me to my home on high
Ill walk dem golden stairs when I die, when I die

song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Did You Say You Make It On The Stairs?

did i really hear you right?
making love on the stairs
and then the boy
comes surprisingly
asking both of you

what are you both doing
on the stairs
both of you naked
while he pumps
on you
like one ever hungry
lover?

how shameful!

well, okay,
the boy is your son
and the man
is your husband

was the bed broken?
or the stairs
too exciting?

was the marriage
too boring?

well, ok,
i understand,
you split with him

could be the
staggering steps on the stairs
could be that the boy
finally understands

could be that the bed
is not that warm

you split for good
and uhuh?
so you are now free
at last

from those stairs
from the bed

and the boy has to make
the inevitable choice
between pa and ma

the stairs he will always remember
anyhow
yes, the boy not the pa

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Saint Nick

Oooooooo
Merry christmas saint nick
Christmas comes this time each year
Oooooooo oooooooo
Well, way up north where the air gets cold
Theres a tale about christmas that youve all been told
And a real famous cat all dressed up in red
And he spends the whole year workin out on his sled
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Just a little bobsled we call it old saint nick
But shell walk a toboggan with a four speed stick
Shes candy-apple red with a ski for a wheel
And when santa hits the gas, man, just watch her peel
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Run run reindeer
Run run reindeer
Whoaa
Run run reindeer
Run run reindeer
He dont miss no one
And haulin through the snow at a frightenin speed
With a half a dozen deer with rudy to lead
Hes gotta wear his goggles cause the snow really flies
And hes cruisin every pad with a little surprise
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Ahhhhhh
Oooooooo
Merry christmas saint nick
Christmas comes this time each year
Ahhhhhh
Oooooooo
Merry christmas saint nick
Christmas comes this time each year
Ahhhhhh
Oooooooo
Merry christmas saint nick
Christmas comes this time each year

song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Nick Of Time

In the nick of time
I'm still Christina Sunrise
In the nick of time
I still write poems that rhyme.
In the nick of time
I still drink my red wine.
In the nick of time
Dr. Gregory's sight
helped make me alright.
In the nick of time—
I changed my mind—
to staying here—
Thank heavens for
Dr. Gregory so dear.

poem by Christina Sunrise
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I scrambled to the top of the precipice where Nick was waiting. 'That was fun,' I said. 'You bet it was,' said Nick. 'Let's climb higher.' 'No,' I said. 'I think we should be heading back now.' 'We have time,' Nick insisted. I said we didn't, and Nick said we did. We argued back and forth like that for about 20 minutes, then finally decided to head back. I didn't say it was an interesting story.

Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Skeleton In The Cupboard

Sometimes we run away
from things real and imaginary.
It doesn’t matter how far that we run,
a day will come
when the past catches up to you.
We always think
our skeletons in the cupboard
are always very safe.
Then one day in the future
someone will open the wrong door
and our skeleton in the cupboard
will be revealed forever more.

24 January 2008

poem by David Harris
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That Stairs That Must Lead Us Home...

building those stairs
that lead to the gates of the
heavens
in the skies?

how funny can that be
if not
impossible

what about the simplest stairs
that lead us to the
living room of
the house that we may call
as home?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Bogeyman

When I was a child, the Bogeyman
Lived in our water tank,
He'd grumble and rumble and growl all night,
I had my sister to thank,
She told me about his giant claws
And the great big teeth he had,
If I couldn't get to the foot of the stairs
He'd be hot on my heels - How sad!

The tank sat next to the toilet seat
In a cupboard, close to a hatch,
It used to spring open and freak me out,
There was something wrong with the catch,
I'd pull on the rusted, clanking chain
And head for the landing, stairs,
If the water had stopped, before I dropped
The Bogeyman would be there!

He was only a second behind me then,
A second of terrors and fears,
The monster that lived in my sister's brain
Has followed me, all these years,
I never could tell my Mother, or Dad,
They never would understand,
My sister said, in a voice of dread -
‘Only kids know the Bogeyman! '

We live in a world of monsters, who
Are waiting to gobble us up,
They follow behind, one second in time,
That second is all that we've got!
They pick off the stragglers, one by one,
They trip us and tear us apart,
If you're old or lame, take your eye from the game,
The monsters will rip out your heart!

So when I heard the Horologists
Were planning to hold back time,
I knew that we were in trouble then:
‘Just a second, ' they said, ‘It's fine! '
‘The earth has wobbled and lost just one,
It takes just one to adjust…'
I hid that night in the attic's height
At the top of the stairs, and cursed!

The whole world wide has been thrust aside
By some atavistic past,
Where the monsters roam outside your home,
And the victims scream when attacked,
I sit and wait for the hand of fate
To rattle my own life's plan,
And steady the gun, ahead of the run
Down the stairs, with the Bogeyman!

David Lewis Paget

(Horologists added one second to the last
Minute, at midnight, on 30 June 2012,
to adjust Solar Time to Atomic Time) .

poem by David Lewis Paget
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Song: The Road to Nowhere

To travel the road to nowhere.
The soul's dark amazon.
Eternal peace is anywhere,
the mind might set upon.

To travel the road to nowhere.
To know you're really gone.
And when you finally get there,
to find your god is Ron.

There's something in the cupboard, boy.
There's something in the dark.
There's something in the cupboard, boy,
that leaves a lasting mark.

There's something in the cupboard, boy.
Old secrets gather dust.
There's something in the cupboard, boy,
that reeks decay and must.

To travel the road to nowhere.
Reading signposts from beyond.
As self-deceit completes defeat,
a cold ghost light is shone,
on Ron. On Ron.

He learned to sham at his father's knee.
He knew the power of story.
He lived by lies and fantasies,
and dreamed of fame and glory.

So travel the road but beware,
for he drew an arcane map.
His weak and dismal followers,
could see no fatal trap.

But in his inner circle,
his worth would soon reveal.
To those that rail and cavil,
he'd crush beneath his heel.

There's something in the cupboard, boy.
The sweetest scent of musk.
There's something in the cupboard, boy,
as warm and moist as lust.

To travel the road to nowhere.
It's not the smoothest ride.
To have all faith you must defer,
to a self-referring guide.

To travel the road to nowhere.
To avoid the rush and throng.
Unravel in the space of somewhere,
and sing a specious song.

There's something in the cupboard, boy.
It's got an evil breath.
There's something in the cupboard, boy,
that toys with fear and death.

To travel the road to nowhere.
And wield your magic wand.
A shuffling prisoner of despair,
when fragile hopes abscond.

To travel the road to nowhere.
A funeral dress you don.
All truth is moulded out there,
like a Sci-Fi writer's con.

There's something in the cupboard, boy.
You hear it scratch and whine.
There's something in the cupboard, boy,
both bedevilled and divine.

To travel the road to nowhere.
To follow a different sun.
To travel the road with due care,
not to end as you begun.

To travel the road to nowhere,
to life's grim denouement.
Be sighted by the cross hairs,
released from earthly bond.

To travel the road to nowhere.
Your face is drawn and wan.
Your self-belief masks hidden grief,
while the thief of time moves on.

poem by David SmithWhite
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The Day You Started To Walk

Baby, When you were eight months old,
you were thin and enterprising,
liked to know about everything,
that were kept at heights and locked,
you crawled for a month all around,
and picked up anything from the ground,
so we made our home 'baby safe'
you did like to crawl up the stairs,
first head in front and then turned,
tried to crawl back in the stairs,
so I taught you,
to climb up step by step,
when I checked you, you reached the top,
with much ease and valiant,
made noise from the top to carry you down.
Do you remember the day,
that you started to walk?
I still remember you standing up,
At first it was very tough for you,
to carry your own weight on your feet,
you cried a lot and I was sad,
but I had to let you go through,
the life's lesson and you are the one,
must learn your own lesson and,
no one can ever help you to do it for you.
you held the cupboard for support,
and started to take the steps,
you were crying a lot,
and the drops of tears fell,
on your beautiful cheeks,
I was there beside you,
to hold you, in case if you might fall,
watching you walking,
catching in the camera and memory,
slowly in two days,
you did not need support,
started to walk,
slowly and steadily,
with both hands wide open,
to keep yourselves balanced,
you started the journey,
to travel on this earth,
as a courageous independent human,
with that first step taken,
just in front of me.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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When Evil Comes

I don? like this anymore than you
In fact I? scared
At the top of the stairs in the dark
Throw away all the dreams you had
Slow and broke
And just for you
You were barely there
Hey little girl where? your momma gone
Has she left you scared
At the top of the stairs
In the dark
It? too late for come backs
And I?e been wrong before
Now I need
I need no more
Except for you
Making up the sides
Evil is when evil comes
At the top of the Stairs
At the top of the Stairs
And in the dark
The world won? listen
And it gets this scared
Standing there at the top of the stairs
In the dark
Come on baby
Let? lose this fear
And let? stand here
Where it? always fair
And never dark

song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only A Downstat

Only a downstat
Personality problem
He would say things like i love you
And cry real tears
Met him in some place
Like a home for old mothers
Where the cure is always death
But no-one ever leaves
He wore a number 7
Badge on his collar
He would show it with pride
And say it means I can feel
Hed bribe the warders
To send letters to someone
Who didnt even know his name
But said shed read them anyway
And in the evening (? ? )
He writes poetry for people
Who deny hes alive
And say Ill mention that name
A violator of the law of no feelings
They should be put in the chair
Until their eyes come in (? ? )
If you have reasons
I might sell you my time
Ill leave it under the stairs
In a body of mine
Old memories are slowly fading out of me
We are the unknowns, we are all you need

song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Villa Pauline

But, ah! before he came
You were only a name:
Four little rooms and a cupboard
Without a bone,
And I was alone!
Now with your windows wide
Everything from outside
Of sun and flower and loveliness
Comes in to hide,
To play, to laugh on the stairs,
To catch unawares
Our childish happiness,
And to glide
Through the four little rooms on tip-toe
With lifted finger,
Pretending we shall not know When the shutters are shut
That they still linger
Long, long after.
Lying close in the dark
He says to me: "Hark,
Isn't that laughter?"

poem by Katherine Mansfield
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A Man With A Plan

I have heard it said
a man who shaves
can really go places...
whatever that means?

It amazes
some observant
neighbours
that Nick the alcoholic

has a shave
before going to the pub

seven days a week...
Even on a Sunday afternoon.

My God Nick's got a plan.
He's going to wait

until twenty past
then have a shave

then go to the pub.
Now that's a man with a plan.

Yes Nick is really going places.
He's a man with a plan.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things.

quote by T.S. Eliot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Daytime Dilemma

She came from a happy home
A very happy home a very happy home
Miss personality, a grade 'a' student naturally
She had it all worked out but things aren't what
They seem is this real or just a dream?
And things will never ever be the same again
She came from a happy home
A very happy home a home of happiness
Miss personality, a grade 'a' student naturally
She had it all in place but things aren't what
They seem is this real or just a dream?
Things will never ever be the same again
The dangers, it's the dangers of love
The dangers, it's the dangers
She came from a happy home
A vey happy home a vert happy scene
She caught him with another it turns out it
Was her mother what a tragedy can things be
What they seem is this just some crazy dream
Things may never ever be the same again
The dangers, it's dangers of love
The dangers, it's the dangers
Keep telling li-ie-ies, but you dis you know you did
It's coming,. it's coming,. it's coming
The dangers, it's the dangers of love
The dangers, it's the dangers
What went wrong she couldn't tell but we know
It all too well
The dangers, it's the dangers of love
The dangers, it's the dangers

song performed by by Ramones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A House Is Not A Home

(burt bacharach / hal david)
A chair is still a chair
Even though theres no-one sitting there
But a chair is not a house
And a house is not a home
When theres no-one there to hold you tight
And no-one there you can kiss goodnight
A room is still a room
Even though theres nothing there but gloom
But a room is not a house
And a house is not a home
When the two of us are far apart
And one of us has a broken heart
Now and then I call your name
And suddenly your voice appears
But its just a crazy game
When it ends, it ends in tears
Darling, have a heart
Dont let one mistake keep us apart
Im not meant to live alone
Turn this house into a home
When I climb the stairs
And turn the key
Oh, please be there
Still in love with me
Im not meant to live alone
Turn this house into a home
When I climb the stairs
And turn the key
Oh, please be there
Still in love with me

song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Emptying Town

I want to erase your footprints
from my walls. Each pillow
is thick with your reasons. Omens

fill the sidewalk below my window: a woman
in a party hat, clinging
to a tin-foil balloon. Shadows

creep slowly across the tar, someone yells, "Stop!"
and I close my eyes. I can't watch

as this town slowly empties, leaving me
strung between bon-voyages, like so many clothes
on a line, the white handkerchief

stuck in my throat. You know the way Jesus

rips open his shirt
to show us his heart, all flaming and thorny,
the way he points to it. I'm afraid

the way I'll miss you will be this obvious.

I have a friend who everyone warns me
is dangerous, he hides
bloody images of Jesus
around my house, for me to find

when I come home; Jesus
behind the cupboard door, Jesus tucked

into the mirror. He wants to save me
but we disagree from what. My version of hell
is someone ripping open his shirt

and saying, Look what I did for you. . .

poem by Nick Flynn
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0200 Dementia

Now what did I come upstairs for?

Of course I haven’t forgotten your name,
young lady, it’s just that I can’t remember it

Why am I going upstairs?
I only just got up

No dear, you’re wrong,
I always pay on account

Where’s my bed?
Isn’t this upstairs?

Take the paper back
to the newsagent, someone’s
already done the crossword

Of course I’m undressed,
I just came upstairs

Of course you can sign my name dear,
they know me at the post office

Why is it so dark downstairs,
I’ve only just got up

Why should I give you money for the gas,
Young man? I don’t even know you

I’m sure there are more stairs
than there used to be

Stop being so insulting, young man,
it’s only money

No of course I don’t need help with the stairs,
I know my own house

No dear, you sign for it, I’m sure
your boss will understand

Somebody changed the stairs
when I was out, they
aren’t the same

Why are people so rude about
money these days?

Ask my father to speak
to that young man

The stairs are steeper than they were,
somebody’s changed them

Who are you, I didn’t
ask you to come in…

Of course it’s my house,
it’s just that you changed the stairs

Tell the bank manager to
come and see me in the morning.

Why does that man upstairs
move the stairs at night?

poem by Michael Shepherd
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