An escalator can never break: it can only become stairs. You should never see an Escalator Temporarily Out Of Order sign, just Escalator Temporarily Stairs. Sorry for the convenience.
quote by Mitch Hedberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Life is an escalator: You can move forward or backward; you can not remain still.
quote by Patricia Russell-McCloud
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I met this wonderful girl at Macy's. She was buying clothes and I was putting Slinkies on the escalator.
quote by Steven Wright
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Now, wages in the automobile industry are made up of two components, what we call base rates and the cost of living factor which is fed in by the operation of the escalator.
quote by Leonard Woodcock
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Speaking of shopping
Speaking of shopping…
My wife is the best
shopper in town
At shopping
there’s no woman greater
She’ll buy anything marked…
up or down
Just last week
she bought an escalator
poem by David Whalen
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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
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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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They've asked me to do this temporarily. I don't know what temporarily means. Life is temporary.
quote by Bob Schieffer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tube Station
The tube lift mounts,
sap in a stem,
And blossoms its load,
a black, untidy rose.
The fountain of the escalator
curls at the crest,
breaks and scatters
A winnow of men,
a sickle of dark spray.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
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Escalator
It was one of those bountiful days
Where a minuscule latency of silence
Could mean the void of everything;
The toppling of the fortress' pillars,
The infringement of the rosary beads,
The rapine of the cheapest hope
That you had found in someone else's pocket,
The kiss of a dying cigarette bud,
Or the burning end of the cigarette bud,
The last page of a novel and its woebegone demise,
Or the solitariness amidst the buckling jovial nights
It was one of those plundering days,
When I can see the violent waves
Palming the swaying bay, seizing the dock
Beating endlessly the benumbed shores
And I see it amongst the swarming populace,
In the slow hands of the hasty clock,
In the precarious streets and highways,
Even in the lull of classroom deliberations,
And my throat smothers with a torrid
Sensation from the cleaving caveat;
The arrival of the night of thieves
In superfluous arms clambering
From the insipidness of the air
Coiled in a snake's repose, geared up to strike
And pilfer the lustful shards of infinity
In my translucent veins and replace it
With the stale venom of impasse
And it was one of those rueful days,
Where I would crawl with the shuddering
And I slam the drift to be drawn to the corner
Of a sublime (and feigned) escalation
Where the seraphs unfold their wings
And the cherubs stifled blathering
And repress the things jabbing my ribs
By pressing all the buttons of the escalator
And delaying the setting of the moon,
And the pluvial toll of the scorching rain,
And defeat the rancid alcohol limit
For I am a bulimic drinker!
Quaffing the virulent pool of ecstasy!
And it was one of those days,
Where the vying would have to pinch respite
For the nights could no longer expand
And the chorus of the carousels sojourn
When the feigned lacquer smile bends
Then I shall halt my breathing and swallow
The serrated fragments of the glassine escalator
When it had hit the ceiling and the stringent string ruptures
Free falling in the unfathomable abyss
Of the escalator sequestered from escalation.
poem by Norman Santos
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The Filthy Rich Woman Flirting In The Escalator
she met him
at the escalator
they did not talk
but their eyes
were laughing
taunting
for more of this
mutual understanding
there is no
need for elaboration
for what both
people know
there was a certain
intimacy in their
silence
not unusual for this
filth
this way of loving
only in the mind
with a stranger
she looked down
not at the floor
somewhere between
the ceiling and
his shoes
between his legs
i supposed
there is a short
lapse
and they cannot
forget it
that crisp crunch
a steady thump
sweet stud
a thud.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Almost Medieval
Theres something in your soul that makes me feel so old
In fact I think Ive died about six hundred times
Theres less of me now and more of me then
Im moving back to the age of men
Jump off the tarmac theres no stagecoach speed limit
Outside the office hangs the man on the gibbet
Soft lenses, grow to glasses
Small world, dimly seen through cataracts
Your program, newspaper
So they say
Rumour spread by word of mouth, jump onto the escalator
Press the button on the lift, raise the dust on old stair carpets
Endless treads like waves of regret
Now it seems Im going madder
Falling off this rotting ladder
Soft lenses, grow to glasses
Small world, dimly seen through cataracts
Jump onto the escalator
Press the button on the lift
Raise the dust on old stair carpets
Endless treads like waves of regret
Now it seems Im going madder
Falling off this rotting ladder
Your program, newspaper
So they say
Rumour spread by word of mouth
Jump onto the escalator
Press the button on the lift
Raise the dust on old stair carpets
Endless treads like waves of regret
Now it seems Im going madder
Falling through this rotting ladder
Theres something in your soul that makes me feel so old
In fact I think Ive died about six hundred times
Theres less of me now and more of me then
Im moving back to the age of men
Jump off the tarmac theres no stagecoach speed limit
Outside the office hangs the man on the gibbet
Jump off the tarmac theres no stagecoach speed limit
Outside the office swings the man on the gibbet
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Petition (revision)
The Petition
The political guy accosted me
at the entrance to the BART.
'Are you a registered California voter? '
I had to admit I was.
Bright and cheery: 'I've got three petitions
for you to sign—for clean water, clean air,
and education.' My guard went up.
It always goes up.
I glanced at the petition,
saw the phrase 'cigarette tax'.
I'd heard a radio show
about its pros and cons—
some educated people believe
it will take money away
from education, because people
will quit smoking,
rather than pay so much.
To his standard pitch,
I gave my standard response:
'Oh, that's the cigarette tax.
I don't know...'
'That's the one for education! '
he patiently explained,
but his patience
was fading a little.
'I'm not gonna sign today,
but can you tell me
the proposition numbers,
so I can do some research? '
'Just forget it! ' he said,
withdrawing the petition
along with any pretense
of patience, so I couldn't sign it
even if I had a sudden
change of heart, and couldn't
even see the numbers.
'OK, ' I said, descending
into the escalator,
and I was the cheery one now.
Max Reif
Hollow
run, desire, run
this sexual being
run him like a blade
to and through the heart,
no conscience
one motive:
cater to the hollow
screaming feed me here
fill me up again
temporarily pacify this hungering
so grow,
libido throw
dominoes of indiscretions down
falling all around in cycles,
in circles
constantly consuming,
conquer and devour.
'cause its time to bring the fire down
bridle all this indiscretion
long enough to edify
and permanently fill this hollow
screaming feed me here
fill me up again
temporarily pacifying
feed me here
fill me up again
temporarily pacifying
song performed by by A Perfect Circle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Often Wish
I often wish the upper reaches of the mind
Would recognise the foolishness in me and you.
To chase these thoughts I stare at amusements,
Clinging to the bread and butter of a working day.
This thinking needs stopping, crashing and breaking,
Like a mind of habitats unknown, false and untrue.
These ribs need shattering and killing for the money,
The ribbon of truth is attached to my suitcase
As I saunter down the escalator, winning a smile.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Suspense(Acrostic Style)
Situations galore that heightens all intensity.
Unique scenarios compelling some amazing results.
Stimulation form both ends exposing the middle man.
Pushes the pedal of emotions to the edge.
Escalator of danger a more imposing challenge.
Nerve jangling excitement automatic wear and tear.
Seemingly in every instance builds the energy.
Engages moviegoers in their seats and doesn't let go.
poem by William Blackman
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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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Vericose veins
the woman's legs at the escalator
painfully bring back mother's
the vericose veins
the woman's legs at my fore
walk me painfully back to mom's
the lumps of vericose veins
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Faking Love And That's All
People think that love is easily made.
And if it's not to their taste,
Somewhere else they will play charades.
But this is not true love.
Some people think that if they shop in malls...
Someone on an escalator,
Will solve their love calls.
But this is not true love.
Some will debate it's over-rated,
The meaning of love.
Some overdo it to inflate it,
The meaning of love.
Some lay and fake it,
The meaning of love.
And,
Some-just-toss-it out of their way.
Some will debate it's over-rated,
The meaning of love.
Some overdo it to inflate it,
The meaning of love.
Some lay and fake it,
The meaning of love.
And,
Some-never-had-love meant to stay.
People think that love is easily made.
And if it's not to their taste,
Somewhere else they will play charades.
But this is not true love.
Some people think that if they shop in malls...
Someone on an escalator,
Will solve their love calls.
But this is not true love.
Some will debate it's over-rated,
The meaning of love.
Some overdo it to inflate it,
The meaning of love.
Some lay and fake it,
The meaning of love.
And,
Some-never-had-love meant to stay...
With one that was a lover.
A lover in love.
Making loving like no other,
Faking love and that's all.
With one that was a lover.
A lover in love.
Making loving like no other,
Faking love and that's all.
Making loving like no other,
Faking love and that's all.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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A Stare
a stare is like a stair
it has steps
and there are feet
walking,
and leaving,
you stare at me,
and i see stairs, where you walk
and climb and stop at the middle
and then take the stairs layer by layer
that is what you like to do, to look at me
as though i am this room where you build the stairs
and you want to go inside my room and lock me up
and take all of me with your tongue and hands and
mouth. You mouth me. And i receive the life you have.
and then your stare subsides. the stair is gone.
the room vanishes. I am free. And you are inside me
your stare has become the memory lingering inside me.
i become a bird and you are inside my wings.
Your stairs become my feathers. Your stare
becomes my eyes.
in love, we make the stairs leading to a house.
and there we feast, and live and sleep.
yes, there are wings and windows.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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