But some things are the same. My mother still owns the house I grew up in, on what would now be called a cul de sac, but which the sign on the corner called a dead end street.
quote by Mink Stole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
A House called Lonely (A Trilogy in three parts)
There is a street in every town that owns a house
called lonely. Then when your just passing by you might
just say, 'if only.
If only could mean a life time of thoughts but it does'nt cure
a lonely house and all its faults.
Boarded up windows and tiles gone from the roof, graffiti
painted by a rebelious youth.
Such a lonely house and an oh such a tired one,
one that has lost all it's fun.
Stairs and rafters all gone to pot all that is left
is wood worm and dry rot.
No children playing in the garden, it's just a house condemend
by the council without no pardon. Poor lonely house someones
forgotton dream, now describing lifes social scene.
This lonely house stands in the way because their building
a By Pass or a new motorway.
The house called lonely could be any where, in the town, the
country or city square.
Even in your street there's a house called lonely just waiting
for you to say 'if only'
poem by Sylvia Spencer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Carpenter's Song
My lot grew lighter day by day;
The children grew apace;
I built a little house last May--
No palace like that place.
And--"Father," said she, "sure you know
That once we ate dry bread?
Into our own house now we go!"--
The mother, she is dead!
Her house the undertaker made,
And not the carpenter;
My grace unsaid, the pastor prayed
In loud tones over her.
The day that's spent with merriment,
'Mid blossoms blue and red,
No music lent--my heart was rent!--
The mother, she is dead.
We pulled together many a year;
Like old bird-mates were we;
But who e'er thinks of dying here
While both together be?
Fast barred is every window-blind--
I care not what is said;
Yes, sell the house! I do not mind--
The mother, she is dead!
poem by Carmen Sylva
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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With A Few Good Friends
(Carly Simon)
With a few good friends
And a stick or two
A house is built at a corner called Pooh
With a friend and a stick
Or three or four
A house is built where it wasn't before
With a window here
And there a door
And a nail and peg
For the coat of Eeyore
With a few good friends
And a stick or two
A house is built at a corner called Pooh
With a friend and a stick
Or three or four
A house is built where it wasn't before
Dress it down
Or dress it up
Invite Tigger for tea
And Owl for supper
With a few good friends
And a stick or two
A house is built at a corner called Pooh
With a friend and a stick
Or three or four
A house is built where it wasn't before
With a few good friends...
[Repeat and fade]
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love Street
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Ohh...ho...
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Ohh...ho...
It seems we've lost our touch
Used to be so in love, yeah, uh
But somehow we've gotten off-track
And we never really got it back, no, yeah
I think we better find a way, yeah
And get right back to them good old days, good old days
Wanna make it to Heaven's gate, yeah (oh)
And we need to escalate, I need
I need direction (whoo, I need direction)
To that street called love (to that street called love, yeah)
Lead me to that road (trying to get home, yeah)
Trying to get home (oh take me to love street, yeah)
Now life is gone and skipped a beat
Tell me where are all the dancing feet? Yeah
Boy I tell you there's always something going wrong
Tell me why can't we all just get along
Keep struggling (yeah) just to get by, oh (oh yeah)
So many hills, mountains to climb, yeah
We should all be ashamed of ourselves
'Cause if we don't love ourselves
Tell me how can we love somebody else?
I need direction (whoo, we need direction)
To that street called love (to that street called love yeah)
Lead me to that road (I'm trying to get home)
Trying to get home (come on and take me to love street)
Easter Sunday morning (yeah)
We weredressed up (yeah)
Ready to go and have some... Church
(And I remember feeling so joyful)
Whether East side or the West side
Or the North side or the South side
You were at... Church
(So tell me what is all this fighting for?)
So what is all this pouting about? (and whoa)
What is all this hating about? (whoa)
(We have got to figure out how to get right back to love street)
I need directions (we need direction, whoa)
To that street called love (to that street called love, yeah)
Lead me to that road (trying to get home)
Trying to get home (would you take me straight to love street, yeah)
I need directions (I need some direction yeah) (ohh)
To that street called love (yes I do, yes I do) (yes I do, yeah)
Lead me to that road (please let me lead me to that road) (yeah)
Trying to get home
Heard somebody say (Toot-toot, beep-beep)
Heard somebody say (Tell me how to get to love street) yeah
Heard somebody say (Toot-toot, beep-beep) yeah
Heard somebody say, yeah (Tell me how to get to love street) yeah
Here we go, here we go, here we go
You make a right on L
Make a left on O
Come to a green light
And that's when you can go (whoa)
You keep straight on V
Until you come to E
That's when you see a big sign that says
Welcome to Love Street
I need direction (welcome to my street sign)
To that street called love (yeah, yeah) (welcome) (yeah, yeah, whoo)
Lead me to that road (lead me to that road yeah)
Trying to get home (oh yeah) (oh ho...)
(Tell me how to get to love street)
Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, yeah, ohh...
(Tell me how to get to love street)
Pied Piper, your music weatherman
It's love o'clock y'all
And ya'll listing to the sounds of the Chocolate Factory
This next one goes out to the ladies
Ladies Night, Happy People baby
song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter LXXX: Story
Story about future is called imagination
Story about past is called memories
Story about present is called reality
Story that becomes true is called prophecy
Story that becomes unfulfilled is called regret
Story that becomes no end is called boasting
Small story is called experience
Epic story is called history
Forgotten story is called lesson
Story that becomes obsession is called ambition
Story that becomes untold is called secret
Story that becomes go its own way is called life
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Road to Success
The road to success is not straight,
There is a curve called FAILURE,
A loop called CONFUSION,
Speed bumps called FRIENDS,
Red light called ENEMIES and
caution lights called FAMILY.
But if you have a spare called
DETERMINATION,
An engine called PERSEVERANCE,
Insurance called FAITH and
A driver called JESUS (GOD, ALLAH, ISHVAR)
You will make it to a place called
SUCCESS
poem by Pratiksha Jain
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The shyness of magnolia winderbottoms
Magnolia is too shy to come out of the house today,
Some say she's too lazy
And her windows are dirty and hazy
Some say she never got over her Agraphobia
Magnolia, is too shy to come out of the house today
But some say it is because she feels the cold
Some whisper, and say 'she swears alot! '
Some say magnolia prefers to be alone
Magnolia is too shy to come out of the house today
Some say it is because she hates her name
And the name callers on the corner of her street
Won't leave her alone
There are many reasons [possible] why magnolia
Won' t come out of the house today
1 She is dead
2 She is lazy
3 She is bored
4 She is tired
5 She went out yesterday
6 She still hasn't got over her agraphobia
7 She doesn't want to go out!
8 She is uncertain what to wear
9 She can't decide where to go
10 She has lost her memory
11 She is still in BED
12 She is ruminating [ this takes a long time! ]
13 In separate rooms
Magnolia is too shy to go out of the house today
But someone was spotted yesterday in the supermarket
Bearing a striking resemblance to Magnolia Winder bottoms
She wore a large orange overcoat and liked to be
called 'Sandra'
Magnolia was not available for comment
But the man who came to the door
Bore a striking resemblance to sandra
He called himself Albert Pike shaft
[A distant cousin of Mags/ Sandra? ]
'No comment'! he said
yvette m smith
poem by Yvette Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Identity Crisis!
When born, I was called “baby”
And later they called me “Abby”
Within 5 years they called me “student”
And for 7 years, like that I spent
Then they called me “teen”
I loved it and felt like a queen
Then I was called “woman”
And those times, were the best
Then some one tied a knot and called me “wife”
I hated those times, it was horrible and gross
In years I became “mother”
It was beautiful but tough
Then being called “grandma”
My times got better and better
Then at last I was called “old”
And my body was frail and cold
All this time I wondered,
Where my identity has gone
Some where in the middle, I had lost it
Through the ages, I had a crisis
An identity crisis to say!
DECEMBER 23,2008
poem by Sania Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Scottish Cow
They call you a cow
When you walk down the street
That doesn't make any sense to me,
As I have been to a farm once before
And cows there, I have seen.
So I would like to know why
You are called that name
And what does it really mean,
As you don't look or act like a cow
But maybe there's something, I haven't seen.
Your daughters bow their head
Whenever they are next to you
As though as they are ashamed,
Is it their fault for that name your called
If not, then who is to be blamed.
Women still point at you
And the men they still smile
Whenever that you walk by
I still don't understand the name your called,
But maybe one day, I will ask you why.
Questions come to my mind
About the word your called
Every time that you are walking past,
Like will they ever stop calling you a cow
Or will that name forever last.
As you don't moo
And you are not fat at all
And certainly your not cover up in fur,
But your called a cow on a daily bases
And to me that seems so absurd.
So when your daughters get older
Will they also be called cows
Just like you their dear old mother
Maybe that's why they are bowing their heads
They are pretending or wishing they are some other.
And the women they still point
As the men they still smile and talk
Whenever you walk that mile,
Then maybe in fact you are what you are
And maybe indeed, you are a cow.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My road to success
Never be discouraged by other people's negativities towards your success. /
Stick to what you love the most some day it will turn out well. /
Some things are hard to get but are worth working hard for. /
So, it is better to support than to look down on other people's dreams. /
The road to success it is not straight there is a curve called failure. /
A loop called friends & flats called jobs, but if you have a spare called determination. /
An engine called perseverance, insurance called faith & a driver called 'jesus' /
You will make it to a place called 'Success' /
Author: Koena France Mokoena
poem by kfm Productions
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dead Folk Don't Talk
On the day she died they all came,
though I was shocked they recalled her name
but they drank our booze and ate our cake
yeah they ate our cake alright.
Maybe they meant well
maybe not
but you can't keep dead folk company
for dead folk, they don't talk.
Nobody came and nobody called
when she was ill and dying.
Nobody seemed to care at all
and now they're all here crying.
Maybe they meant well
maybe not
but you can't keep dead folk company
for dead folk, they don't talk.
So I sat there dazed and out of control
listening to them talking,
but when she were alive, the house was still,
just me and mother sighing.
Maybe they meant well
maybe not
but you can't keep dead folk company
for dead folk, they don't talk.
And afterwards, when they all went
I carried out her last requests.
I moved her gas fire, paid the rent
and left a note to the dairyman.
Nobody came and nobody called
when she was ill and dying.
Nobody seemed to care at all
and if they say they did, they're lying.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Star 69
You dont have to take the bar exam to see
What you did is ignoramus 103
Where have I got to hang my hat
You dont have line to me
All this just to be your friend
I was there to tell you
Extortion and arson, petty larceny
I know you called. I know you called. I know you called.
I know you called. I know you called. I know you hung up my line.
Star 69.
I know all about the warehouse fire.
I know squirrelies didnt chew the wire.
Three people have my number, the other two were with me.
I dont stand tall, but Im not your patsy.
This time you have gone too far with me.
I know you called. I know you called. I know you called.
I know you called. I know you called. I know you hung up my line.
Star 69.
Whyd you put your quarter down on me?
This reads like some dark inside edition, hard copy.
I cant be your character witness, I cant be your alibi.
Dont arrange the fbi, here this spy versus spy.
You my friend are guilty as can be.
I know you called. I know you called. I know you called.
I know you called. I know you called. I cant be your alibi.
Star 69.
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Women
Women...
Some budy
Called flower...
Some budy
Called moon...
Some budy
Called Brandy...
Somebudy
Called hourse...
Some budy
Called donkey...
Some budy
Called basterd...
Some calling
Some of word's
Women with women's...
This words are
Not full fill
The women...
World wide
Women is beauty...
Women is sexy...
Thats thats...
But...
Women is what...?
Not only women
Women is your mother...
Women is your sister...
Women is your wife...
Women is doughter...
Women is your gran mother...
Women is your friend...
Not only above...
Women is a human...
Human is women...
Understand too
All women's...
With your heart...
At your humunity...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What used to be called liberal is now called radical, what used to be called radical is now called insane, what used to be called reactionary is now called moderate, and what used to be called insane is now called solid conservative thinking.
quote by Tony Kushner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Black House On The Corner
I passed by that house everday,
wondering what lurked inside of it,
was their some kind of ancient evil inside,
or a normal family that we never saw,
a house of macarbe,
it was painted black like the devil's sin,
it was surrouned by devilish-looking,
figures that stood outside on the line,
was also surrounded by a black pointed fence,
rumors of the devil himself living there,
the devil in the flesh,
satan living on my street corner,
The black house on the corner,
can't you see it,
you must walk past it everyday to,
dosen't your mind wander,
when you walk by The black house,
don't you to know what lays inside of the house,
maybe a ton of dead bodies under the floor boards,
a madman butcherd up his family,
could that be true,
or are our young minds racing again,
with impure and insane thoughts about,
who or what lives in the black house on the corner,
the black house,
painted with the devil's sin,
We were told to stay away from the black house,
that so many evils lived inside of it,
but us being kids we didn't want to live,
we wanted to see what was inside of the black house on the corner,
But we are to afraid to go forward,
we are to afraid to step through the gate,
and walk up the beaten path to the door bell,
it looks so old and so evil,
The black house on the corner,
we shall never know what evilness,
or what macabre force resides within,
the black house on the corner,
whatever you do,
don't go into the black house on the corner,
stay away from,
the black house on the corner,
it holds so many evils,
the black house on the corner,
poem by Robert Rumery
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He Called Father
He remembered that fear,
Shaking in bed listening.
He called son.
Hearing the druken man,
He called father.
The womans cries, the punches,
Slaps, blackend eyes,
On she called mother.
Burying his head in the pillow
To shut out the noise.
He remembers the comfort
The gentle hand and soft voice
Of she called sister.
But the scars lie deep
A nightmare that he runs from
In the black despair of night.
From He Called Father
poem by Paul Brookes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the house in Beverly Hills where our four children grew up, living conditions were a few thousand times improved over the old tenement on New York's East 93rd Street we Marx Brothers called home.
quote by Harpo Marx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We have common enemies today. It's called childhood poverty. It's called cancer. It's called AIDS. It's called Parkinson's. It's called Muscular Dystrophy.
quote by Jerry Doyle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't Go Home With Your Hard-on
I was born in a beauty salon
My father was a dresser of hair
My mother was a girl you could call on
When you called she was always there.
When you called she was always there
When you called she was always there
When you called she was always there
When you called she was always there.
Ah but don't go home with your hard-on
It will only drive you insane
You can't shake it (or break it) with your Motown
You can't melt it down in the rain.
You can't melt it down in the rain
You can't melt it down in the rain
You can't melt it down in the rain.
I've looked behind all of the faces
That smile you down to you knees
And the lips that say
song performed by by Leonard Cohen from Death Of A Ladies' Man
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Road To Success isn’t As The Crow Flies
The road to success is not as the crow flies
There are derailments and breakdowns
Speed breakers are called uncertainty
Humps are called hurdles of life
Neon signs are called friends to guide you
And consciousness is called Family make you aware of
But if you have a spare wheel called willpower,
A strong engine called firmness,
Car insurance called confidence, and
A car driving skill is called Faith,
I m sure you will drive your car successfully
Towards the road of success
poem by Dr Shamim ali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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