The streets and alleys of the ward were notoriously filthy, and the contractors habitually neglected them, not failing, however, to draw their regular payments from the city treasury.
quote by Ray Stannard Baker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Contractors Of Piece
Contractors of piece,
Deciding which piece each will keep.
Contractors of piece,
Deciding which piece each will keep.
Even though wars are ending.
And valiant troops have done their deed.
Loved ones in their hometowns,
Are relieved there's a fighting...
That finally has come to cease.
Restoring broken unities...
Of awaiting friends and families,
Seems not to stop...
The fighting over rebuilding greed.
Contractors...
Now on shores destroyed by wars.
Contractors...
Armed with plans and making demands.
Contractors...
Hoping to restore their greed.
Contractors...
Wanting to get themselves a piece.
Even though wars are ending.
And valiant troops have done their deed.
Loved ones in their hometowns,
Are relieved there's a fighting...
That finally has come to cease.
But contractors...
Now on shores destroyed by wars.
Contractors...
Armed with plans and making demands.
Contractors...
Hoping to restore their greed.
Contractors...
Wanting to get themselves a piece.
Contractors...
Now on shores destroyed by wars.
Contractors...
Armed with plans and making demands.
Contractors...
Hoping to restore their greed.
Contractors...
Wanting to get themselves a piece.
Contractors.
Contractors.
Con tractors of piece,
Deciding which piece each will keep.
Contractors.
Contractors.
Contract ors of piece,
Deciding which piece each will keep.
Contractors.
Contractors.
Contract ors of piece,
Deciding which piece each will keep.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The payments which have been made into the Treasury show the very productive state of the public revenue.
quote by James Monroe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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City Streets
The gaudy glow of neon lights
dispels the darkness of the nights
on city streets.
They pop and fizzle noisily
creating a cacophony
on city streets.
The sober folks walk warily
and drunks stagger uncaringly
on city streets.
The ladies of the night parade
for there is money to be made
on city streets.
Drug dealers ready to retreat
if they should hear a coppers feet
on city streets.
The night shift workers wend their way
towards their work to start their day
on city streets.
The noisy revellers thin out
as one by one the signs go out
on city streets.
The gradually noises abate
and ghostly shadow congregate
on city streets.
For some few hours peace will reign
before the noise will start again
on city streets.
The early morning traffic sounds
start with the milkmen on their rounds
on city streets.
This builds up to an angry roar
as cars and lorries inward pour
on city streets
then when at last rush hour has passed
noise levels will subside at last
on city streets
I thank the lord that I am free
to leave this noise far behind me
on city streets.
I walked my beat the whole night
through exactly as I’m paid to do
on city streets.
I choose to live outside the town
where constant noise won’t get me down
on city streets.
My village is a quiet place
A haven where I need not face
the noisy streets.
8-Jun-07
poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Los Angeles
Skyscrapers
Break the sky,
Smog chokes the air,
Endless buildings go on
Forever-
Los Angeles Times-
LAX,
Traveling down the 10
Towards Santa Monica,
Dirty
Filthy
Ragged city.
Where are the artists?
Poets?
Writers?
Musicians?
All at home creating
The city. Inspiration
For the willing.
Ugly, dirty, ragged,
Beautiful.
This
Filthy
City.
poem by Randy Briggs
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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City Of Music
Music is like a city
The genres are the suburbs
The bands, the streets
The albums, the buildings
And the songs, the apartments
The streets get inspiration from other streets
They duplicate then alter them slightly.
The city is very busy and there are always
People driving through looking and listening
The city is growing every day.
The suburbs larger and larger
And some join together.
The streets longer and longer
And some old and tattered.
The building will always stay the same
But they will always be new.
The city will always keep growing
As the music goes on.
poem by by unknown author
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Freak Me Out
City streets at night
Can be so intimidating
I'm not the toughest guy
I gotta keep my eyes open
You came out of nowhere
Man you really freak me out
I'm so afraid of you
And when I lose my cool
I don't know what to do
I know you don't mean no harm
Your just doing your thing
But man you really freak me out
Did I hurt you?
Are you okay?
Can I buy you a drink?
Ohhh what's the world coming to?
You came out of nowhere
Man you really freak me out
I'm so afraid of you
And when I lose my cool
I don't know what to do
I know you don't mean no harm
Your just doing your thing
But man you really freak me out
I'm gonna try to improve my manners (manners)
Everyone, yes everyone, is my frienddd!
[instrumental]
City streets at night (city streets at night)
City streets at night (city streets at night)
Til the morning light (til the morning light)
City streets at night (city streets at night)
Man you really freak me out
I'm so afraid of you
And when I lose my cool
I don't know what to do
I know you don't mean no harm
You're just doing your thing
But man you really freak me out..
[instrumental]
song performed by by Weezer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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City Of Worcester
Worcester, the city of noise,
Walking along these city streets,
Seeing people busy,
pacing,
Cracked city walks,
Aged city houses,
Beautiful city air, '
Never seems to be a minute to spare,
As cars stream along,
Cops and fire trucks pass down my street.
Loud children playing in the streets.
As I walk down the street of mine,
I hear parents yelling at their children.
Dogs barking as you walk by,
Houses that are old and crusty,
Men and women fighting.
This right here is the city I was born in.
The City Of Worcester!
poem by Cassandra Prew
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The City! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! :)
In the city
There is so much traffic
There is a beautiful sunset
In the city
We have lots of houses
Lots of alleys too
We even have metal
In the city, it is busy.
poem by by unknown author
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Hometown
Jersey City is where I was born
I woke up to see many a dawns
It's not a bad city, it was a place to live
But there were many times it didn't forgive
The streets were tough, the winter's cold
It s city you can embrace, but one you can never hold
The streets will own you and rule you
There's not too much one can do
After some years you'll be ready to leave
It will no longer have the things you need
That's when you know it's time to leave
Because in the city you can longer believe
Now people grow up there and decide to stay
But so many many more just go a different way
6-18-10/RJH
poem by Ray Hansell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dans Paris
The beauty of a city
the breathtaking
awe-inspiring
captivating
somewhat magical Parisian charm
Paris captures the hearts of those who step into its glossy boutiques and cafes
Just as a beautiful and sensuous seductress ensnares her defenceless prey
The star-studded Eiffel Tower in all its glory
shining like a beacon of fire across the Parisian night sky
Taking a walk along the breezy boulevard of the Champs Elysees
The romantic artists painting their subjects on Montmartres's quaint streets and alleys
The sun sets over the Seine and the City of Lights comes to life
poem by Salwa Nuseiba
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Neglected Dog
The neglected dog looks such a sight! His coat is full of fleas!
Yet once he filled you with delight! He really loved to please!
The neglected dog has tapeworms, too! They're ghastly to behold!
Yet once this dog showed love for you! He once was good as gold!
The neglected dog has matted hair and sores upon his feet!
Yet once you combed him with such care till he looked cool and neat!
The neglected dog has eyes that fall... He's lost the will to live!
Yet once he answered every call! He had so much to give!
The neglected dog lies flat and still... He hasn't fed in days!
Yet once you cared when he was ill! Now who cares if he prays! ?
The neglected dog pleads for your love! Is that too hard a task! ?
Yet once your love was quite enough! He didn't need to ask!
The neglected dog has passed away... It's too late... anyhow...
Though once you loved him day-by-day... Too late to pet him now...
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Regular Guy
Im the kind of guy a girl takes home to mom
Pleated khaki pants, and cologne thats the bomb
(you sure smell perty)
Shake her dads hand
Look him in the eye
And tell him straight up Im just a regular guy (ill have her home by 9 sir)
Im a regular guy who stays out of trouble( let me get that for you mam)
A regular guy says mam on the double( Im on it)
Im a regular guy just like dawsons creek
A regular guy just dont call me a geek, a geek yeah
But sometimes I remember what got me here
It was friday and cussing
Back off Im in a boy band
And showing no fear
I watch jay leno (hes funny) 7th heaven too
And I ask myself sometimes what would jesus do
Grab me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change
Im buds with my mom
And I hang out with my dad..hes my buddy
I play everything safe so Ill never be sad (boo hoo)
Im a regular guy who stays out of trouble( let me get that for you mam)
A regular guy says mam on the double( Im on it)
Im a regular guy just like dawsons creek
A regular guy just dont call me a geek, a geek yeah
Dont push me.
Damnt sometimes I wanna smash things up
Jacked up and wrapped upIm in a boy band.. a boyband
And have to pee in a cup
Im a regular guy who stays out of trouble( let me get that for you mam)
A regular guy says mam on the double( Im on it)
Im a regular guy just like dawsons creek
A regular guy just dont call me a geek, a geek yeah
song performed by by 2gether
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Filthy
Filthy was my mother's womb
From which the creature barrowed through
Filthy is the father's gift
A dysentery vessel malignantly thrift
Filthy are the orbs that burn
Resituates of evil from a convex urn
Filthy is the cognitions blight
In wrecked collections of atrophied sight
Filthy be the tongue that wage
Indiscriminate duplicitous rage
Filthy composes the embryo man
Who never realized which way he begins
Disgust is self attraction, pontificating the irrelevant
And I am blind to the future which was due last week
While collecting old debt of childhood alimony
Making friends with the silhouettes on television
Because a dog ate my marbles and flew to the moon
While I fit as a statue of constant uncertainty,
Cradling the rags that build my daughter of gravity
That strangles my words into cryptic complexes
Of elegant stupidity that worships vein incredulity
For filthy is and filthy be, my wife for life that no one sees
Filthy is the boy in snow
Who pollutes the earth with its afterglow
Filthy is the passing silence
From which impeaches a thoughtless blindness
Filthy becomes the wasted minutes
Killing the chances for this solitary sentence
Filthy be the secrets lived
When the truth is there in an open lid
Filthy is the life time lost
In dumb pursuits of this word thats tossed
Filthy is the writer of me
When I am not in control of who I should be
For I am truly purity
Without the shame of sanity
poem by Kevin Patrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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São Paulo
São Paulo
The city that I was born in
I never liked you since I was a child
São Paulo
Now that I am grown up I still don't like you either
I don't feel safe being in the streets in São Paulo
To me São Paulo is very ugly in real life
It is only beautiful in the postcards
There is no in between
Either you are rich or poor
There are too many contrasts
São Paulo
A city that never sleeps
São Paulo
I am glad that you don't have snow
One thing that is great in São Paulo is summer, the hot weather
I would go insane if I lived in here forever
For me it is like a prison
Because it is too dangerous to walk on the streets
It is a very depressing city
São Paulo
It is a real cement city
Buildings and more buildings
Hardly any green
It is an old city
450 years old
For me São Paulo
Is like a prison cell
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Camera Eye
Grim-faced and forbidding,
Their faces closed tight,
An angular mass of new yorkers
Pacing in rhythm,
Race the oncoming night,
They chase through the streets of manhattan.
Headfirst humanity,
Pause at a light,
Then flow through the streets of the city.
They seem oblivious
To a soft spring rain,
Like an english rain
So light, yet endless
From a leaden sky.
The buildings are lost in the limitless rise.
My feet catch the pulse and the purposeful stride.
I feel the sense of possibilities,
I feel the wrench of hard realities.
The focus is sharp in the city.
Wide-angle watcher
On lifes ancient tales,
Steeped in the history of london.
Mist in the streets of westminster.
Wistful and weathered,
The pride still prevails,
Alive in the streets of the city.
Are they oblivious
To this quality?
A quality
Of light unique to
Every citys streets.
Pavements may teem with intense energy,
But the city is calm in this violent sea.
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Lifetime of Peace
Be suspicious of anyone offering,
A lifetime of peace...
For low monthly payments.
And you have been selected,
Because of a favorable credit standing.
And you should feel both proud and envied,
To be have been chosen in such a manner.
And...
All payments are tax deductible.
With an option to have them made directly,
From checking or saving accounts.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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New York City Rhythm
Words by Marty Panzer
Music by Barry Manilow
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When my heart is torn apart
by love I wish I had,
Well, I spend my nights in the city's lights
and things don't seem so bad.
Ya know the movement seems to soothe me,
and the temp takes control,
and I lose my blues
when the Ne w York City rhythm fill my soul;
it's the New York City rhythm runnin' thru' my life,
the pounding beat of the city streets
that keeps mydreams alive.
I'm lost, I'm found, I'm up, I'm down,
but somehow I survive.
It's got to be the New Y ork City rhythm in my life,
It's got to be the New York City rhythm in my life,
in my life.
When I'm out for love or sin,
Oh, it's good to be in town,
In the funky dives on the old west sid
there's always somethin' goin' down.
Oh yes , I live my life with strangers,
and the danger's always there,
but when I hit Broadway and it's time to play,
ya know that I don't care;
It's the New York City rhythm runnin' thru my life,
the poundin' beat of the city streets
that kee ps my dreams alive.
I'm lost, I'm found, I'm up, I'm down, ,
but somehow I survive.
It's got to be the New York City rhythm in my life,
in my life.
City rhythm, oo city rhythm.
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tale of Three Cities
New York blasted London blasted
Singapore -
Ripped off each other's metaphoric balls,
Crumbling walls.
Priapic city monoliths -
Blue-sky scraping bastards -
Shout about their height (but really length) .
V8 arseholes didn't care -
Pumping shit into the air,
So long as they were always there to
Fart aloud a smoggy cloud,
Laughing at the weak asthmatic,
Humoured that it seems traumatic.
Watch the greedy cities oozing
Chair-bound fat committees, though they
Look a bunch of titties as they
Waffle on about the pound.
Ever thought to look around and see
That they were dead?
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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They divided the city into three electoral wards, and in one ward there was 70 percent of the people, the Catholic population, and they elected eight representatives to the city council.
To Leave This City
This is the city to walk around in the rain
Staring at the barges in the harbor
And to hum songs through the night.
The city has countless streets
Bustling with people running around...
The waitress who brings me my tea every evening
And whom I like a lot although she's a White Russian
Is in this city.
The old pianist who turns around
To look at me
When he sneaks in pieces by Schumann and Brahms
While playing waltzes and foxtrot
Is also in this city.
The ferry boats that caryy passengers
To the village where I was born are in this city.
So are my memories,
All those I love,
And the graves of my loved ones.
This is the city where I have a job,
Where I earn my bread money.
And yet, in spite of all this,
This is the same city I'm leaving
Because of a woman
In another city.
poem by Orhan Veli Kanik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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