The sport would not survive today if drivers were being killed at the rate they were in the 1960s and '70s. It would have been taken off the air. It is beamed into people's living rooms on Sunday afternoons, with children watching.
quote by Damon Hill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
I think it turned the whole sport around. It got everybody's attention. People who were watching TV live were jumping up and down in their living rooms.
quote by Cale Yarborough
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday Afternoons
I sit at home
at my desk alone
as I used to do
on many sunday afternoons
when you came back to me,
your arms ached for me,
and your arms would close me in
though they smelled of other women.
I think of you
on Sunday afternoons.
Your sweet head would bow,
like a child somehow,
down to me -
and your hair and your eyes were wild.
We would embrace on the floor-
You see my back´s still sore.
You knew how easily I bruised,
It´s a soreness I would never lose.
I think of you
on Sunday afternoons.
poem by Erica Jong
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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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Well, our economy is very strong and growing. We have created 5.4 million new jobs in the last 3 years. Our unemployment rate is better than the average unemployment rate of the 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s.
quote by Ric Keller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our Survival
We shall survive distance.
We shall survive space.
But can we survive the loneliness
that we have to face?
We shall survive winter.
We shall survive spring.
But can we survive the guilt
of the wedding ring?
We shall survive long nights.
We shall survive days.
But can we survive the longings
that always and forever stays?
We shall survive suspicion.
We shall survive fear.
But can we survive living
without each other, dear?
We shall survive all of this
if we put our love first.
We shall survive hunger.
We shall survive thirst
only if this love is true.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Early Works - Smoke Rings
Lazily reading a book
on a Sunday afternoon,
sitting in a comfortable chair
watching smoke ring rise in the air.
Do you know the satisfaction
of a lazy Sunday afternoon,
of the joy of watching children
playing on the floor in the front room?
27 June 1981
poem by David Harris
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Will We Survive? Yom HaShoah 5768
WILL WE SURVIVE? YOM HASHOAH 5768
Will we survive?
I don’t know.
I will not survive.
But will we survive?
Will my children grow old here?
Will there be generations to come here?
Will Israel survive?
Will the Jewish people survive?
G-d has promised us
But can we trust G-d?
Can we trust anyone or anything
After what we have been through.
Israel is here.
Sixty years.
The Jewish people
A few thousand or more
Will we survive?
How long?
I don’t know.
I pray we will do right
May God help us
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Always Another Sunday
There is always another Sunday,
From where do Sundays come from?
Do they sell them next to strike-anywhere matches,
Can you buy a three-pack and get one free
To make a perfect month, of Sundays?
Sunday afternoon might find you sitting at table
With some people you don't know too well,
Trying to make polite conversation
While slicing up some shoe-leathery beef roast,
That has always been the hallmark of the day.
Is it the first day of the week
Or effectively, the last?
How can the week start without any work?
Because it seems to make a better ending, instead.
Will we ever run out of Sundays?
Not unless we run out of football, baseball
Basketball and soccer first; it seems evident
That Sunday is merely a cog, attached to the sports wheel,
And is born and dies each week, with the big game.
You will not find most people discussing their sins
On Sunday afternoons:
You already know what they will be talking about.
poem by Patti Masterman
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Today I sat…
Today I sat
By a quiet lake
Listening to the water lap upon the shore
I let my mind wander on lands and things yet to explore
Today I sat
Sheltered by an ancient pine
Bent and cracked by a long forgotten storm
I closed my eyes and let my spirit transform
Today I sat
On an old stone wall
Watching the birds fly by
And I did and thought nothing at all
Today I sat
And watched the children at play
Carefree and happy no worries around
No better way to spend the day
Today I sat
And watched the flowers grow
Their quiet struggle to survive
Made my heart glow
Today I sat…
© JPM 7/2/08
Childhood
It would be good to reminisce
of all that's lost from childhood afternoons,
can they return to me, I miss
those endless hours that are now in ruins.
It does return now, gently, still
perhaps in all the drops of a warm rain
yet we've forgotten what it will
remind us now of riches and no bane
of seeing and just living without care
like creatures yet as humans with no fear
and filled up to the locks of children's hair
a figure of a Thing, it would appear.
The shepherd's loneliness then, in the end
weighed down with endless distances today
and called as if ordained, touched by a friend
a lengthy thread of images, astray
in which it is no use simply to dwell
there is no memory for us to know
and to a stranger, childhood thoughts will tell
of afternoons, where life itself was slow.
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke (1906), translated by Herbert Nehrlich
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People from a world corner
The worst poverty in the world
The worst discrimination in the world
While people thinking about Global Warming
Corner people thinking how to survive
Corner people struggling one day by one day
While people living in the rocket age
Corner people walking miles to miles for one day survive
Corner people surprising whenever a plane is flying
While people thinking about living on other planets
Corner people crying to get a four feet square area
Corner people watering their blood for a four feet squares area
While people thinking about homosexual marriage
Corner people giving their lives for saving their children
Corner people growing never ever seeing their parents
While people thinking about which food is the best in the world
Corner people running thousand miles to get a few rice
Corner people dying lack of food and water
While people thinking about legalization of prostitution
Corner people not knowing what is the law
Corner people never seeing decided by a just justice
Corner people are not people!
Corner people are not from this world!
I would wonder............
poem by Zaw Myat Htoo
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The Sun
Always watching, never seeing,
Never living, always being,
Sky is my domain, clouds hinder me in vain,
My friend is the rain, over mist and rainbows I reign,
I give the earth life and make plants grow,
I run and hide every day you know,
Without my shine your days are numbered,
Thinking you can survive alone would be a blunder,
I may not be God or a deity but that's how some see me,
What would you do if you had to be me,
Would you keep watching as people ruin my Earth,
This planet thrived until these people's birth,
You could scorch them and burn them or kill them,
I choose to keep sending my warm rays upon them,
It's up to the people to do what's right,
Until then I'll always shine my light.
poem by Ruik Caldorn
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Sela
You know sometimes I sit and wonder
Just how this world would be
If we had all the people laughing
And everybody living in harmony
Wed have to say sela sela
Talking to the people sela, sela
There would be no more living in desperation
And no more hatred and deceit
Tell me, can you imagine
All the children playing
And everyone dancing in the street
We say sela, sela
Talking to yourself sela, sela
You play it for the people
Yeah, for the people
Its time for everyone
To come together
I know its hard
But this dream must come to light on
Because tonight should be
One big celebration
Im talking to you now
Only we can make things right
We say sela, sela, sela, sela baby
Talk about, sing about, talk about sela
Talk about sela
Oh the children
Tell me about the children
Weve got to help them now to survive
Well, one world
One heart is our salvation
Let us keep the dream alive
We say sela, sela, sela
I know sela, I know sela, sela, sela ...
song performed by by Lionel Richie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Well, it was sunday, bloody sunday when the shot the people there.
The cries of thirteen martyrs filled the free derry air.
Is there anyone amongst you dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding when they nailed the coffin lids!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, you claim to be majority, well, you know that its a lie.
Youre really a minority on this sweet emerald isle.
When stormont bans our marches, theyve got a lot to learn,
Internment is no answer, its those mothers turn to burn.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey! yeah!
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
All you anglo pigs and scotties sent to colonise the north,
You wave your bloody union jacks and you know what its worth.
How dare you hold to ransom a people proud and free?
Keep ireland to the irish, put the english back to sea!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey, hey, hey!
Alright!
Ooh -
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, its always bloody sunday in the concentration camps.
Keep falls road free forever from the bloody british hands.
Repatriate to britain all of you who call it home,
Leave ireland to the irish not for london or for rome.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Well, it was sunday, bloody sunday when the shot the people there.
The cries of thirteen martyrs filled the free derry air.
Is there anyone amongst you dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding when they nailed the coffin lids!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, you claim to be majority, well, you know that its a lie.
Youre really a minority on this sweet emerald isle.
When stormont bans our marches, theyve got a lot to learn,
Internment is no answer, its those mothers turn to burn.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey! yeah!
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
All you anglo pigs and scotties sent to colonise the north,
You wave your bloody union jacks and you know what its worth.
How dare you hold to ransom a people proud and free?
Keep ireland to the irish, put the english back to sea!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Hey, hey, hey!
Alright!
Ooh -
Yeah!
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Well, its always bloody sunday in the concentration camps.
Keep falls road free forever from the bloody british hands.
Repatriate to britain all of you who call it home,
Leave ireland to the irish not for london or for rome.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday, bloody sundays the day.
Sunday, bloody sunday.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My dad was very successful running midgets in Texas. Then, his two drivers ran into some bad luck. People started saying that Daddy had lost his touch. That it was the cars and not the drivers. I wanted to race just to prove all those people wrong.
Living House
I saw you in a house of rooms,
It must be saving the bed of contentment,
Feeding the living of people,
Creating contentment as you speak.
My love is fastened to the door
And the window is collapsing.
My violent pages work for the more,
Rooms are rooms meaningful.
The saviour is brought to the houses
And he saves us from slaughter.
I come to you in the middle of town,
As far as the eye keeps, like one hard.
The contentment is just about.
poem by Naveed Akram
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I Hate Women Drivers!
I hate women drivers!
Why, can they not park?
Near the kerb?
Not anywhere
With no regards!
I hate women drivers!
Especially in the dark
They put on their blinkers
Because, they can not see.
The problem, is neither can we!
I hate women drivers!
How they love to drive fast
Only for school runs
Then they cruise all day long
I hate women drivers!
Do they believe?
That the traffic lights are stops
To make phone calls
For their daily needs
I hate women drivers!
Can they see there are lines in the road?
They signify lanes
You should only drive in one
Not in all 3!
I hate women drivers!
They stop at zebra crossings
Because they feel this is the time
To speak to their friends and catch up
What feels like an hour long!
I hate women drivers
Oh, I wish men
Will stop shouting
THIS AT ME!
poem by Sarwah OseiTutu
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Chat Room For Lonely People
Thoughts are the very essence
Of human existence
Even though they sometimes create discord
Whether you express them via your vocal cords
Or through your keyboard
When you are bored.
Didn't folks used to have rooms
Called drawing rooms?
But now all that is left
Is our 'privacy' of which we are bereft.
So, instead of drawing rooms
We have chat rooms
For lonely people
Who would like to chat with friendly people.
poem by Lonely People Champion
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Destroyed By You
Baby do you really know
What you meant to me
You were like a light of stand
Shining just for me
Then I found my heart was taken in by you
Last night
My believe was breaking into the fragments
Deep inside
There's a light
Light in my life
To let me know
I will survive
Tell me why
Why was this light killed by you
Destroyed by you
Baby did you really mean
What you did to me
I was blinded by the light
So I just could not see
That my love will lead into the darkness
Of dispair
And in the moment of destruction you'd say
I don't care
There's a light
Light in my life
To let me know
I will survive
Tell me why
Why was this light killed by you
Destroyed by you
Baby do you really know
What you meant to me
You were like a light of stand
Shining just for me
Light
Light up my life
To let me know
I will survive
Tell my why
Why was this light killed by you
Destroyed by you
Light up my life
There's a light
Light in my life to
Let me know
I will survive
Tell my why
Why was this light killed by you
Destroyed by you
song performed by by Vanilla Ninja
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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