She just kept hitting me in the head with her fists, over, and over and over.
quote by David Gest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Bouts With Hard Knocks
I wish I did awaken to become intelligent and wise.
As if a crawling on my knees and facing emotional turmoil,
Would have been prevented.
And those experiences did not attached themselves,
To a mind in a head addicted to hitting against walls.
Or fists hitting up against bricks,
And having bouts with hard knocks.
If 'only' I knew I was intelligent and wise,
My life would have been a lot easier.
And I would not have been left so scarred...
Damaged and a bit bruised,
But on the road to recovery with patience and years...
Under my belt.
Or in my head!
Wherever that patience I keep treasured is.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Riding With Cats Eyes Nine Lives
riding with cats eyes nine lives
riding in dark or moonlight
riding in cloud shadow or rain
riding with a lucky stars roll
riding at speed in night magic
hitting judder bars in darkness
hitting judder bars hard fast
hitting judder bars all alone
hitting judder bars straight on
hitting judder bars at speed
is heightened airborne rush
is riding racing death in night
is riding in night fed wonder
is heightened seconds flying
is ready road rocket launch pad
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Till My Head Falls Off
There were 87 advil in the bottle now theres 30 left
I ate 47 so what happened to the other 10?
Why do you suspiciously change the subject and break my concentration
As I dump the bottle out and I count the advil up again?
Dont interrupt me as I struggle to complete this thought
Have some respect for someone more forgetful than yourself
And Im not done
And I wont be till my head falls off
Hitting every pocket on my shirt, pants and overcoat
And Im hitting them again but I dont know where I put my notes
Clearing my throat, and gripping the lectern I smile and face my audience
Clearing his throat and smiling with his hands on the bathroom sink
And when I lean my head against the frosted shower stall
I see stuff through the glass that I dont recognize at all
And Im not done
And I wont be till my head falls off
Though it may not be a long way off
Im not done talking yet
Im not done talking yet
And when I lean my head against the frosted shower stall
I see a broken figure silhouetted on the wall
And Im not done
And I wont be till my head falls off
Though it may not be a long way off
I wont be done until my head falls off
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Until My Head Falls Off
There were 87 advil in the bottle now theres 30 left
I ate 47 so what happened to the other 10?
Why do you suspiciously change the subject and break my concentration
As I dump the bottle out and I count the advil up again?
Dont interrupt me as I struggle to complete this thought
Have some respect for someone more forgetful than yourself
And Im not done
And I wont be till my head falls off
Hitting every pocket on my shirt, pants and overcoat
And Im hitting them again but I dont know where I put my notes
Clearing my throat, and gripping the lectern I smile and face my audience
Clearing his throat and smiling with his hands on the bathroom sink
And when I lean my head against the frosted shower stall
I see stuff through the glass that I dont recognize at all
And Im not done
And I wont be till my head falls off
Though it may not be a long way off
Im not done talking yet
Im not done talking yet
And when I lean my head against the frosted shower stall
I see a broken figure silhouetted on the wall
And Im not done
And I wont be till my head falls off
Though it may not be a long way off
I wont be done until my head falls off
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hitting Ali in the body or on the arms was like hitting a piece of cement.
quote by Ken Norton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's not hard. When I'm not hitting, I don't hit nobody. But when I'm hitting, I hit anybody.
quote by Willie Mays
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hitting a baseball well, as in cricket, is a very rare skill. One of most difficult things to do in the world to do, hitting a ball coming at you at ninety miles an hour with a round bat. Wonderful to watch.
quote by Peter Tork
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You don't lead by hitting people over the head - that's assault, not leadership.
quote by Dwight D. Eisenhower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Storm...
i remember
i did not stop the car
as i brace myself
for the well announced
storm
large drops of rain
hitting the windshield
there is no
road visible
lightning and thunder
hitting the trees
with a flash of
ghostly images
i was always
ready
i had no one
and no one
had me....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When I'm not hitting, I don't hit nobody. But, when I'm hitting, I hit anybody.
quote by Willie Mays
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Clasp Of Hands
SOFT, small, and sweet as sunniest flowers
That bask in heavenly heat
When bud by bud breaks, breathes, and cowers,
Soft, small, and sweet.
A babe's hands open as to greet
The tender touch of ours
And mock with motion faint and fleet
The minutes of the new strange hours
That earth, not heaven, must mete;
Buds fragrant still from heaven's own bowers,
Soft, small, and sweet.
A velvet vice with springs of steel
That fasten in a trice
And clench the fingers fast that feel
A velvet viceÑ
What man would risk the danger twice,
Nor quake from head to heel?
Whom would not one such test suffice?
Well may we tremble as we kneel
In sight of Paradise,
If both a babe's closed fists conceal
A velvet vice.
Two flower-soft fists of conquering clutch,
Two creased and dimpled wrists,
That match, if mottled overmuch,
Two flower-soft fists---
What heart of man dare hold the lists
Against such odds and such
Sweet vantage as no strength resists?
Our strength is all a broken crutch,
Our eyes are dim with mists,
Our hearts are prisoners as we touch
Two flower-soft fists.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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How More Lucky Can One Be?
Too delusional you are.
In a maniacal frantic way displayed.
You say you've been touched by an angel.
I believe that angel threw a brick.
Hitting you in the head with it.
You've attached yourself like dog doo.
To stink after removing from one's shoe.
You say you love unconditionally!
That's a good thing...
I guess.
But I wonder with who,
Would desire all that gooey giving...
From you!
'What's that you doin'? '
Oh...
Just throwing up!
'Maybe it was something you ate.
And you had enough.'
You have no idea.
I wish I did have that kind of luck.
'Well...
You do have me.
How more lucky can one be? '
Too delusional you are.
In a maniacal frantic way displayed.
You say you've been touched by an angel.
I believe that angel threw a brick.
Hitting you in the head with it.
'You act as if you want me to leave? '
Really?
What makes you say that?
'Everytime I surprise you with a visit...
You go sit in your window,
To lean dangerously on the edge.
As if you're trying to escape from a trap.
When your love to me you wish to pledge!
Would you like me to sit with you?
So both of us can share such a romantic view? '
And I would LOVE that too.
'This is the first time I've seen you so excited! '
How more lucky can one be?
I agree!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I never blame myself when I'm not hitting. I just blame the bat and if it keeps up, I change bats. After all, if I know it isn't my fault that I'm not hitting, how can I get mad at myself?
quote by Yogi Berra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I never blame myself when I'm not hitting. I just blame the bat and if it keeps up, I change bats. After all, if I know it isn't my fault that I'm not hitting, how can I get mad at myself
quote by Yogi Berra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My second favorite household chore is ironing. My first being hitting my head on the top bunk bed until I faint.
quote by Erma Bombeck
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alankar (Decor) -7
Angry Beings
Angry woman furious furious
Yelling yelling thunderous thunderous
Hitting her head vigorous vigorous
Slapping her face serious serious
Serious furious is angry man
Thunderous vigorous booing boos span
Serious vigorous his goblets plan
Thunderous serious late night elan
Angry woman furious furious
Yelling yelling thunderous thunderous
Hitting her head vigorous vigorous
Slapping her face serious serious
Hassling children dangerous hazardous
Battling home scene hazardous perilous
poem by Indira Renganathan
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When The Blues Get Me
How many people get the blues like I?
When bad things happen I want to cry.
But when I cry the blues don't go.
They stick around for too damned long
and so
I shake my fists and say, 'what's wrong? '
Sometimes those blues go away for days.
Sometimes I'm happy like spring bouquets.
And when those blueless days appear
it makes me want to stand and cheer
'Hurray for life.'
My fists are unclenched and I persevere.
I enjoy these times when the blues are gone.
I praise the sunset and the light of dawn.
I expect the best out of myself
and place those blues in a bottom drawer.
But the blues aren't satisfied.
There are more in store.
Blues, you make me hate how I feel.
You settle in and then you steal
peace, contentment and harmony
like a cascade of dissonance
that comes over me.
So I clench my fists and cry.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Yeah, she was hitting me hard. She was drunk and she was hitting me hard.
quote by David Gest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Accustomed To Ignoring Their Own Treasures
When I came to give,
Hands were closed.
And fists were clenched.
Prepared what seemed to me to be,
Arguments conflicting with my interests.
Then when it became discovered,
What I came to give...
Would be of benefit.
Hands surrounded me opened like cups.
And those with clenched fists,
Were prepared to pat me on the back.
As if a lost relative had for them been missed.
When I CAME to give,
Hands were closed.
And fists were clenched.
An impression made,
I have not forgotten since.
When I CAME to offer,
I was immediately dismissed.
And NOW...
Today?
I've learned my worth is too valuable.
Too genuine to just give away.
Especially to those,
Accustomed to ignoring their own treasures.
And suspicious of those,
Who have chosen them to give.
Prehaps my approached for them was too sincere.
Since from them 'then'...
I HAD asked for nothing.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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John The Baptist At The River Jordan
I see them standing in their best clothes as holy people
at the market square, the threshing-floor and the well
hitting with their fists proudly on their breasts,
even where rich old men doze off at the city gate
as if they want to shout, that they are children of Abraham
are saved as his descendants,
are free from their lineage but as a brood of vipers
they rise around me with love missing from their hearts
where they only wait for a moment,
are waiting to strike and backward to rob, plunder
and they think that they are saved
and where I am baptising
they stand and gossip backwardly,
are coming with questions set as traps
and I wonder if I have to walk up to them,
have got to drive them away
and have to rub in their sins
in front of the people, the city, the whole world?
poem by Gert Strydom
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