I'll bet your father spent the first year of your life throwing rocks at the stork.
quote by Irving Brecher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Get Your Rocks Off
by Bob Dylan
You know, there's two ol' maids layin' in the bed,
One picked herself up an' the other one, she said:
"Get your rocks off!
Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off-a me! (Get 'em off!)"
Well, you know, there late one night up on Blueberry Hill,
One man turned to the other man and said, with a blood-curdlin' chill, he said:
"Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off-a me! (Get 'em off!)"
Well, you know, we was layin' down around Mink Muscle Creek,
One man said to the other man, he began to speak, he said:
"Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off-a me! (Get 'em off!)"
Well, you know, we was cruisin' down the highway in a Greyhound bus.
All kinds-a children in the side road, they was hollerin' at us, sayin':
"Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off! (Get 'em off!)
Get your rocks off-a me!
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cleveland Rocks
(ian hunter)
Three! four!
Three! four!
Three! four!
(bunch of ah-ah-ahs here)
All this energy calling me
Back where it comes from
Its such a crude attitude
Its back where it belongs
All the little kids growing up on the skids are goin
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Jumpin (jean) gene genies, moody james deanies goin
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Mama knows but she dont care
Shes got her worries too
Seven kids and a phony affair
And the rent is due
All the little chicks with the crimson lips go
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Shes livinin sin with a safety pin
Shes goin cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
I got some records from world war two
Ill play em just like me grand dad do
He was a rocker and I am too
Oh cleveland rocks, yeah cleveland rocks
So find a place
Grab a space
And yell and scream for more
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
Cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks, cleveland rocks
(bunch of ah-ah-ahs here)
Three! four!
Three! four!
Three! four!
Ohio
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tit For Tat
The fox and the stork
Played the game of
Tit for tat
And lost both in the play
The fox and the stork
Are with us
And our thought is
We are the winner.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The stork
Last night the Stork came stalking,
And, Stork, beneath your wing
Lay, lapped in dreamless slumber,
The tiniest little thing!
From Babyland, out yonder
Beside a silver sea,
You brought a priceless treasure
As gift to mine and me!
Last night my dear one listened -
And, wife, you knew the cry -
The dear old Stork has sought our home
A many times gone by!
And in your gentle bosom
I found the pretty thing
That from the realm out yonder
Our friend the Stork did bring.
Last night a babe awakened,
And, babe, how strange and new
Must seem the home and people
The Stork has brought you to;
And yet methinks you like them -
You neither stare nor weep,
But closer to my dear one
You cuddle, and you sleep!
Last night my heart grew fonder -
0 happy heart of mine,
Sing of the inspirations
That round my pathway shine!
And sing your sweetest love-song
To this dear nestling wee
The Stork from 'Way-Out-Yonder
Hath brought to mine and me!
poem by Eugene Field
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Oh yeah, the preacher's kid has to be the baddest one. If everyone is smoking weed, we've got to smoke crack. If you're throwing rocks, we've got to throw bigger rocks.
quote by Nick Cannon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So Close
I've spent so much time throwing rocks at your window
That I never even knocked on the front door
I walk by statues never even made one chip
but if i could leave a mark on the monument of the heart
I just might lay myself down for a little more than I had the last day
the last day,
the last day.
Wait a time to spare these lies we tell ourselves
These days have come and gone
But this time is sweeter than honey
song performed by by Evanescence
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To The Stork. (Armenian Popular Song, From The Prose Version Of Alishan)
Welcome, O Stork! that dost wing
Thy flight from the far-away!
Thou hast brought us the signs of Spring,
Thou hast made our sad hearts gay.
Descend, O Stork! descend
Upon our roof to rest;
In our ash-tree, O my friend,
My darling, make thy nest.
To thee, O Stork, I complain,
O Stork, to thee I impart
The thousand sorrows, the pain
And aching of my heart.
When thou away didst go,
Away from this tree of ours,
The withering winds did blow,
And dried up all the flowers.
Dark grew the brilliant sky,
Cloudy and dark and drear;
They were breaking the snow on high,
And winter was drawing near.
From Varaca's rocky wall,
From the rock of Varaca unrolled,
the snow came and covered all,
And the green meadow was cold.
O Stork, our garden with snow
Was hidden away and lost,
Mid the rose-trees that in it grow
Were withered by snow and frost.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Hello Father
The year is 1979.
Hello father
I am your son
You and mom have a wonderful chance
I am here for you
To mold. To refine.
To make better than you
A beautiful gift you are part of
Where have you gone?
Hello father
I am older now
I am growing like you
I am doing what you do
I am emulating you
But you don't see me
You don't pat me
Your back is what I see
Where have you gone?
Hello father
I am now turning teen
Changes in my life so complex
I have my own thoughts
I have my own beliefs
But I'm not sure if they are correct
Moms can only do so much
But a father to a son
Is mighty. Indestructible. Heroic.
Where have you gone?
Hello father
I am now a man
I know all about you
I know your type
I was too young to see
That you were not a father
Just a person playing one to me.
poem by C.R. Blazo
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Father Freak (1) (Took Son's Wife And Killed Son's Daughter)
A 4-year-old daughter was murdered,
by a 45-year-old grandfather,
who had a love affair with his daughter-in-law,
who is a 23-year-old woman whose husband's heart got gnawed.
The husband found out the affair and had their marriage got undone.
The grandfather did'nt have any consideration for his son.
He admitted beating the grand-daughter to death,
stuffing his body into a suitcase and throwing into the river bed.
Murder occured in May, about 3 months ago.
3 weeks ago, her great grandmother contacted Authority for her no-
show.
Then the disappearance brought to police attention.
How could they commit a crime full of sins?
They have children of their own,
but about parental love they have never known.
The father not only robbed his son of his wife,
but also put an end to his grand-daughter's life.
There are actually some bad fathers,
who could be compared to freak Monster.
Short Shrift
‘I’ve failed! ’ How many times have sons
And fathers’ fathers echoed me?
‘I’ve failed! My life was spent in dreams, ’
We said, ‘in shallow misery.
In dreams and steel and soot and grime,
In screams, and what would seem some crime
Of trying to live beyond our need...
Our lives were spent in some black creed! ’
‘Too short, too short, the days we spent
In trying to right the days before,
Too long, too long, the years we struggled
Knowing not what struggled for.
What goal, what aim, what discontent,
What loves we lost, what life we spent
In wondering what such life could be?
Short shrift for you - harsh words for me! ’
‘I’ve failed, my sons, I’ve failed you all
And so my failure tortures me,
As in that innocence divine
Your love loves all the failed in me.
If I could strip this flesh, or tear
These eyes that cried hot fire for you
To save you from the same despair
My father’s father brought me to...’
20 July 1976
poem by David Lewis Paget
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Cobbler and Stork
COBBLER
Stork, I am justly wroth,
For thou hast wronged me sore;
The ash roof-tree that shelters thee
Shall shelter thee no more!
STORK
Full fifty years I 've dwelt
Upon this honest tree,
And long ago (as people know!)
I brought thy father thee.
What hail hath chilled thy heart,
That thou shouldst bid me go?
Speak out, I pray--then I 'll away,
Since thou commandest so.
COBBLER
Thou tellest of the time
When, wheeling from the west,
This hut thou sought'st and one thou brought'st
Unto a mother's breast.
I was the wretched child
Was fetched that dismal morn--
'T were better die than be (as I)
To life of misery born!
And hadst thou borne me on
Still farther up the town,
A king I 'd be of high degree,
And wear a golden crown!
For yonder lives the prince
Was brought that selfsame day:
How happy he, while--look at me!
I toil my life away!
And see my little boy--
To what estate he 's born!
Why, when I die no hoard leave I
But poverty and scorn.
And thou hast done it all--
I might have been a king
And ruled in state, but for thy hate,
Thou base, perfidious thing!
STORK
Since, cobbler, thou dost speak
Of one thou lovest well,
Hear of that king what grievous thing
This very morn befell.
Whilst round thy homely bench
Thy well-belovèd played,
In yonder hall beneath a pall
A little one was laid;
Thy well-belovèd's face
Was rosy with delight,
But 'neath that pall in yonder hall
The little face is white;
Whilst by a merry voice
Thy soul is filled with cheer,
Another weeps for one that sleeps
All mute and cold anear;
One father hath his hope,
And one is childless now:
He wears a crown and rules a town--
Only a cobbler thou!
Wouldst thou exchange thy lot
At price of such a woe?
I'll nest no more above thy door,
But, as thou bidst me, go.
COBBLER
Nay, stork! thou shalt remain--
I mean not what I said;
Good neighbors we must always be.
So make thy home o'erhead.
I would not change my bench
For any monarch's throne,
Nor sacrifice at any price
My darling and my own!
Stork! on my roof-tree bide,
That, seeing thee anear,
I 'll thankful be God sent by thee
Me and my darling here!
poem by Eugene Field
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An important impression was my father's one Sabbatical year, spent in England and Europe in 1937.
quote by Philip Warren Anderson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happy ending
She spent her life worrying over everyone
She spent her days trying to get her kids the life they wanted
She spent her nights trying to convince her husband not to leave
She tried everything
But it never worked
Her worries never went away
Her kids ended up with dead-end lives
Her husband ended up with a 23 year old blonde
And all she wanted was a happy ending
poem by Tiffany Fawcett
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A Child Still In Mourning
Year after year after year; a child in mourning
with no tears. So many questions with little to
no answers shared, but still told your father was
your pal. But missing from my life is that pal, like
missing my first steps, my first smile. You chose to
be absent, to not be around, to hear the words love,
hell yes there met with a frown. Since when did love
mean torment and pain? I know life is sunshine and
rain, but why my seasons never change? And then it
happens, you finally step in to fill that space, To
be my father, my mentor, my support rock, my base.
Then, just as simply you enter, you leave me with
just a trace. The pastor says ashes to ashes, and now
a earn takes your place.3/5/02... The day a son and
father pasted,3/5 eternal the time I mourn with
love, with anger, with forever seasons last.
poem by Emmanuel Bannister II
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There's only one cure for what's wrong with all of us pitchers, and that's to take a year off. Then, after you've gone a year without throwing, quit altogether.
quote by Jim Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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F a t h e r
I gave my father seven years
of love unconditional
then in my eighth year
my father decided
to mould me
in my eighth year
I saw through my father
beyond the love
the love had not gone; simply
there is not time for love
when the battle is to find yourself
my eighth year was fatal; that's fatal
meaning in the hands of fate..
forgive me, father, for
I knew not what I knew.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Dirge For The Year
I.
Orphan Hours, the Year is dead,
Come and sigh, come and weep!
Merry Hours, smile instead,
For the Year is but asleep.
See, it smiles as it is sleeping,
Mocking your untimely weeping.
II.
As an earthquake rocks a corse
In its coffin in the clay,
So White Winter, that rough nurse,
Rocks the death-cold Year to-day;
Solemn Hours! wail aloud
For your mother in her shroud.
III.
As the wild air stirs and sways
The tree-swung cradle of a child,
So the breath of these rude days
Rocks the Year:—be calm and mild,
Trembling Hours, she will arise
With new love within her eyes.
IV.
January gray is here,
Like a sexton by her grave;
February bears the bier,
March with grief doth howl and rave,
And April weeps--but, O ye Hours!
Follow with May's fairest flowers.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Only Me
The stork was misdirected when
I was born; I should have been
one of the titled gentlemen
with wealth approaching the obscene.
The foolish bird delivered me.
By malice or by accident
into the sort of family
not known to the establishment.
Although my instincts are refined
befitting an aristocrat.
When I grew up I was to find
my father was no plutocrat.
So I was forced to earn my crust
like any other working man.
No wide estates were held in trust.
That wretched bird fouled up the plan.
I should have been a titled man
a scion of nobility.
But one must do the best one can
although ones born to poverty
The only title I can claim
is that I am a gentleman.
I’ll never be a household name.
Though I am proud to say I can
do anything a duke can do.
Except sit in the House of Lords.
I do not think I would want to
be bound to follow their accords.
An independent gentleman
is what I am content to be.
Although the stork messed up the plan
I must accept I’m only me.
(5-Nov-07)
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Where Are The Lionheart
Destiny took me in her arms and told me:
"You're a little lost on the fall.
You fall for all the men
You shouldn't fall for all at all."
Ooh, I know she knows, but still I go on,
Well, I'm a fool.
Climbing up the ladders
To slide down the adders
On the rocks,
On the rocks,
On the rocks,
On the rocks...
Joan of Arc walks into my mirror,
A burning sword.
I'd like to cry.
I look into her eyes.
I see she's seen the long days and night.
"Ooh," she says,
"The games are still the same, I see,
But they've changed the names now.
Are all Lionhearts put in parks, apart?"
Lionhearts in the asylums,
Lionhearts tossed at sea,
Lionhearts who've lived their lives, like Arthur.
Lionhearts in cathedrals,
Lionhearts at mournings,
Lionhearts in every seed
But they're sown
On the rocks,
On the rocks,
On the rocks,
On the rocks...
Somebody I couldn't see
Tied me up and put me away,
Here on the rocks,
Here on the rocks,
Here on the rocks...
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The happiest years of my mother's life were spent in Washington, D.C. It was where she met my father, where John was born and where I spent my earliest years.
quote by Caroline Kennedy Schlossberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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