He may be president, but he still comes home and swipes my socks.
quote by Joseph P. Kennedy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Portis and Coco
Where the hell are my socks?
I have no more
Portis and Coco
are at it again
all are torn, I can't wear them
Portis, the pit
Coco the Shepoo
playing tug of war
with my socks
so it's back to the store
I'ts never enough
to play with a toy
they still get the joy
for some reason, to sniff with my jocks and
tear up my socks
poem by Matt Mondschein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Can Feel...
she said:
'you're not a poet,
you're just an old man...
old hat, old beard,
even your socks are old! '
'yes, and my socks
are full of holes...
when i walk across
the bare floor i can feel...'
and therein lies
the poetry!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ode to My Socks
Mara Mori brought me
a pair of socks
which she knitted herself
with her sheepherder's hands,
two socks as soft as rabbits.
I slipped my feet into them
as if they were two cases
knitted with threads of twilight and goatskin,
Violent socks,
my feet were two fish made of wool,
two long sharks
sea blue, shot through
by one golden thread,
two immense blackbirds,
two cannons,
my feet were honored in this way
by these heavenly socks.
They were so handsome for the first time
my feet seemed to me unacceptable
like two decrepit firemen,
firemen unworthy of that woven fire,
of those glowing socks.
Nevertheless, I resisted the sharp temptation
to save them somewhere as schoolboys
keep fireflies,
as learned men collect
sacred texts,
I resisted the mad impulse to put them
in a golden cage and each day give them
birdseed and pieces of pink melon.
Like explorers in the jungle
who hand over the very rare green deer
to the spit and eat it with remorse,
I stretched out my feet and pulled on
the magnificent socks and then my shoes.
The moral of my ode is this:
beauty is twice beauty
and what is good is doubly good
when it is a matter of two socks
made of wool in winter.
poem by Pablo Neruda
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Here Comes President Kill Again
Here comes president kill again,
Surrounded by all of his killing men.
Telling us who, why, where and when,
President kill wants killing again.
Hooray, ring out the bells,
King conscience is dead.
Hooray, now back in your cells,
Weve president kill instead.
Here comes president kill again.
Broadcasting from his killing den.
Dressed in pounds and dollars and yen,
President kill wants killing again.
Hooray, hang out the flags,
Queen caring is dead.
Hooray, well stack body bags,
For president kill instead.
Aint democracy wonderful?
Them russians cant win!
Aint democracy wonderful?
Lets us vote someone like that in.
Here comes president kill again,
From pure white house to number 10.
Taking lives with a smoking pen,
President kill wants killing again.
Hooray, everythings great,
Now president kill is dead.
Hooray, Ill bet you cant wait,
To vote for president kill instead...
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Here Comes President Kill Again
Here comes president kill again,
Surrounded by all of his killing men.
Telling us who, why, where and when,
President kill wants killing again.
Hooray, ring out the bells,
King conscience is dead.
Hooray, now back in your cells,
Weve president kill instead.
Here comes president kill again.
Broadcasting from his killing den.
Dressed in pounds and dollars and yen,
President kill wants killing again.
Hooray, hang out the flags,
Queen caring is dead.
Hooray, well stack body bags,
For president kill instead.
Aint democracy wonderful?
Them russians cant win!
Aint democracy wonderful?
Lets us vote someone like that in.
Here comes president kill again,
From pure white house to number 10.
Taking lives with a smoking pen,
President kill wants killing again.
Hooray, everythings great,
Now president kill is dead.
Hooray, Ill bet you cant wait,
To vote for president kill instead...
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Follow Me 'Ome
There was no one like 'im, 'Orse or Foot,
Nor any o' the Guns I knew;
An' because it was so, why, o' course 'e went an' died,
Which is just what the best men do.
So it's knock out your pipes an' follow me!
An' it's finish up your swipes an' follow me!
Oh, 'ark to the big drum callin',
Follow me -- follow me 'ome!
'Is mare she neighs the 'ole day long,
She paws the 'ole night through,
An' she won't take 'er feed 'cause o' waitin' for 'is step,
Which is just what a beast would do.
'Is girl she goes with a bombardier
Before 'er month is through;
An' the banns are up in church, for she's got the beggar hooked,
Which is just what a girl would do.
We fought 'bout a dog -- last week it were --
No more than a round or two;
But I strook 'im cruel 'ard, an' I wish I 'adn't now,
Which is just what a man can't do.
'E was all that I 'ad in the way of a friend,
An' I've 'ad to find one new;
But I'd give my pay an' stripe for to get the beggar back,
Which it's just too late to do.
So it's knock out your pipes an' follow me!
An' it's finish off your swipes an' follow me!
Oh, 'ark to the fifes a-crawlin'!
Follow me -- follow me 'ome!
Take 'im away! 'E's gone where the best men go.
Take 'im away! An' the gun-wheels turnin' slow.
Take 'im away! There's more from the place 'e come.
Take 'im away, with the limber an' the drum.
For it's 'Three rounds blank' an' follow me,
An' it's 'Thirteen rank' an' follow me;
Oh, passin' the love o' women,
Follow me -- follow me 'ome!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Zombie's Wife
The zombie's wife
has a dowager's hump
and never sees the sky.
On her way to church
she steps on ants
and swipes at every fly.
Her husband Humphrey
stays at home
and scours the house
for the squeaky mouse
his wife says got inside.
Winter's coming
and the larder's bare
so Humphrey wants
his wife to fix
the mouse for supper
fricasseed or fried.
poem by Donal Mahoney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The State
Nature, our father and mother,
gave us all we have got.
The state, our elder brother,
swipes the lot.
I can't wait to get home and wash all those socks.
quote by Julianne Moore
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I've been a strong financial and political supporter of, first, President Bush Sr. when he was running for president, and even when he ran for president a time or two and failed.
quote by Kenneth Lay
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For example, a man who might not have enormous charisma, who could be president 40 years ago, and who was a deserving president, I don't know that George Washington would be a president today, I don't know that Abe Lincoln would, I don't know that Roosevelt would.
quote by Sydney Pollack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I wear my heart in my shoes
Home is where the heart is,
I probably carry mine in my shoes,
Shoes of leather, sturdy, used & worn,
covered in mud.
The British countryside,
All Hills and bumps
and wide open fields,
Muddy & Wet,
Dotted with quaint little towns,
Rivers Runny Through.
Home is where the heart is,
My home is between my stinking socks,
and my leather sole.
If home is where my heart is,
I tread on it everyday,
I probably wear it in my shoes.
poem by Sam Seymour
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Because my socks were wet
That day, when clouds were frowning
And the ants and the antelopes were drowning
The almighty deciding to have a bath
And the rooftops feeling the sky’s wrath
I got a bad ache in head
Allowing me to stick to my bed
When it went indispensable
I moved towards my table
Hoping to see some help
I made a small yell
Deciding by myself then to buy a tablet
But I couldn’t have my shoes because my socks were wet
Yes, that day the master of hell had a laugh
To see my condition so rough
…Because my socks were wet
Someone I had to meet the other day
The sun was shining by my bay
I ran towards the stop but was late
I had stepped into a ditch and my socks went wet
Yes the devil smirked again
As he found his ultimate gain
…because my socks were wet
Once visiting my god’s place
“Temple” they call it in general phrase
We had a long chat
Impressed by my ballad
He decided not to let me go
He contacted his biggest foe
Arrangements were made
Plans were laid
When I bid my goodbye
He smiled and just sighed
My shoes were stolen from his portal
He just wished me to be mortal
I ran, and ran in haste
It rained heavy that eve and made my run a waste
The two geniuses partied and partied till late
…because again my socks were wet
poem by Anurag Chaudhary
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I can't go on anymore bad dates. I would rather be home alone than out with some guy who sells socks on the internet.
quote by Cynthia Nixon
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Laundry Spirits
Laundry spirits all around
Stealing things without a sound
When I hang my washing out
Something missing there’s no doubt
An odd sock here an odd sock there
Drives me almost to despair
I wonder if in days gone by
Did my great gran have this, if not why?
Is my washing machine possessed?
Eating socks I do not jest
Doesn’t matter where I look
There’s certainly a mysterious spook
So laundry spirit in the sky
Please give me a reason why
A pair of socks I can understand
But just for one what is your plan?
I’m buying socks that look the same
So I can make up pairs again
So I will have one fewer grey hair
And stop you driving me to despair
08 03 2009
Chellaston
poem by Jim O'Donnell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You 'Were' Looking For Your Shoes
I can not find my socks.
Who misplaced them?
And why are they not in my sight?
'Grandpa? '
WHAT IS IT! ?
'I've spotted your socks.'
Okay.
Then where are they?
'Grandpa...
They are on your feet.'
Oh.
Well...
Who put them there?
'You did grandpa.
Just before you said,
You 'were' looking for your shoes.'
What are you trying to say?
You know where they are too?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Warning To Reform Tyrant Regime
President Barack Obama
last night warned
Egyptian President Mubarak
that as president he must
reform his tyrant regime
refrain from more violence
against civilian protesters
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mr. President (Have Pity On The Working Man)
We've taken all you've given
But it's gettin' hard to make a livin'
Mr. President have pity on the working man
We're not asking you to love us
You may place yourself high above us
Mr. President have pity on the working man
I know it may sound funny
But people ev'ry where are runnin' out of money
We just can't make it by ourself
It is cold and the wind is blowing
We need something to keep us gong
Mr. President have pity on the working man
Maybe you've cheated
Maybe you've lied
Maybe you have lost your mind
Maybe you're only thinking 'bout yourself
Too late to run. Too late to cry now
The time has come for us to say good-bye now
Mr. President have pity on the working man
Mr. President have pity on the working man
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mr. President
We've taken all you've given
But it's gettin' hard to make a livin'
Mr. president have pity on the working man
We're not asking you to love us
You may place yourself high above us
Mr. president have pity on the working man
I know it may sound funny
But people ev'ry where are runnin' out of money
We just can't make it by ourself
It is cold and the wind is blowing
We need something to keep us gong
Mr. president have pity on the working man
Maybe you've cheated
Maybe you've lied
Maybe you have lost your mind
Maybe you're only thinking 'bout yourself
Too late to run. too late to cry now
The time has come for us to say good-bye now
Mr. president have pity on the working man
Mr. president have pity on the working man
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Light Shoes with Straps
In Aruba I bought a pair of sandals, with leather straps and
shiny steel buckles; I wore them with white ankle socks.
Coming home from the sea in June no one in my town had
sandals like mine. Mind, not much call for sandals in
Liverpool, winter rain, soggy streets, hailstones and so on.
When I went back to sea, I left the sandals under my bed
to wear when returning, but when I came back brother had
worn them to death, broken straps and rusty buckles.
I was very sad, but then I met a girl called Sandra and since
it was October, too cold for sandals and white ankle socks,
I got over the loss.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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