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In every house
We members talk too much
So much talk in your house, too
But the talk
This time was about me
It was so excessive
The house had confused about everything
But remarkably
Even your house remembers about me
But you can not
You searched me in the household things
poem by Abdul Wahab
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Me In Your House
Me in your house
(dedicated to those women who are victims of dowry)
In every house
We members talk too much
So much talk in your house, too
But the talk
This time was about me
It was so excessive
The house had confused about everything
But remarkably
It remembers only me.
poem by Abdul Wahab
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Back biting
In every house
We members talk too much
So much talk in your house, too
But the talk
This time was about me
It was so excessive
The house had confused about everything
But remarkably
Your house remembers about me
poem by Salema Khatun
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The Houses
1898 -- A Song of the Dominions
'Twixt my house and thy house the pathway is broad,
In thy house or my house is half the world's hoard;
By my house and thy house hangs all the world's fate,
On thy house and my house lies half the world's hate.
For my house and thy house no help shall we find
Save thy house and my house -- kin cleaving to kind;
If my house be taken, thine tumbleth anon.
If thy house be forfeit, mine followeth soon.
'Twixt my house and thy house what talk can there be
Of headship or lordship, or service or fee?
Since my house to thy house no greater can send
Than thy house to my house -- friend comforting friend;
And thy house to my house no meaner can bring
Than my house to thy house -- King counselling King.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Stranger In The House
We dont talk much
We dont make love like we used to
And I stay guarded
Ive got walls and triggers
I never thought I had
And so do you
But this is love
And thats the way we seem content to play it
I touch your clothes when youre gone
I let your scent wash over me
You cry at night and you wish just like a child
That we were how we used to be
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
And she looks like somebody from a lifetime ago
I stonewall you, you stonewall me
But we both know that
Hiding deep inside us
Lives the love that we try hard to lose
And never will
But this is war
And thats the way we seem content to fight it
I get so angry and confused cause
I want out but I want you
You cant decide between moving out or moving in
You dont know what to do
With a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
And she looks like you
And he looks like me
Is this the same girl that, I fought so hard to win
And now I fight to lose her
Now I feel that its just like skin to skin
And nerve to nerve
Strung out like wire
Is that the way we are content to live
We face off in anger
In rooms once filled with love
Looking for a chink in the armour
Where we can stab the blade
What are we thinking of
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
And she looks like somebody from a lifetime ago
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
Theres a stranger in the house
In the house
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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House Of Jazz
Humdinger
Bell ringer
Got a nasty stinger
To slow you down
Mud slinger
Gold digger
Who point the finger
And do you down
Kickin' and a fightin' on a TV show
Lightin' blindin' in the middle of the road
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Ball stripper
Big tipper
Got a slap 'n' tickler
To make you growl
Spitin' and bitin' on a TV show
Tightenin' frightenin' givin' out a load
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin' in
Come on in
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin' in
Are you comin' in
I said into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
The house of jazz
song performed by by AC/DC from Stiff Upper Lip
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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House Of Jazz
(young - young)
Humdinger
Bell ringer
Got a nasty stinger
To slow you down
Mud slinger
Gold digger
Who point the finger
And do you down
Kickin and a fightin on a tv show
Lightin blindin in the middle of the road
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz, yes
Ball stripper
Big tipper
Got a slap n tickler
To make you growl
A spitin and bitin on a tv show
Tightenin frightenin givin out a load
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin in
Come on in
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
Are you comin in
Are you comin in
I said into the house of jazz
Come into the house of
Come into the house of
Come into the house of jazz
The house of jazz
2000, j. albert & son, pty.
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Things I Miss The Most
I don't mind the quiet
Or the lonely nights
I don't miss the funky attitudes
And I don't miss the fights
I lie on the couch 'til suppertime
And hunker down and read the Post
And that's when I remember the things I miss the most:
The talk
The sex
Somebody to trust
The Audi TT
The house on the Vineyard
The house on the Gulf Coast
These are the things I miss the most
I kinda like frying up
My sad cuisine
Getting in bed and curling up with a girlie magazine
Sometimes in the corner of my eye
I see that adorable ghost
And then ba-boom I remember the things I miss the most
The talk
The sex
Somebody to trust
The comfy Eames chair
The good copper pans
The '54 Strat
These are the things I miss the most
I had a little birdy friend
By morning she was gone
Birdie good-bye
Birdie bye bye
I'm learning how to meditate
So far so good
I'm building the Andrea Doria out of balsa wood
The days really don't last forever
But it's getting pretty damn close
And that's when I remember the things I miss the most
The talk
The sex
Somebody to trust
The Audi TT
The house on the Vineyard
The house on the Gulf Coast
These are the things I miss the most
song performed by by Steely Dan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A House for Four
A house for four
What is it? a house for four
A dingy looking thing
Are there windows? none
What is it? a house for four
Such a palace
Are there greetings? none
What is it? a house for four
Why the space is so small
Is there privacy? none
What is it? a house for four
A dozen creeps could be creeping there
Is there any trust? none
Don't judge me for mine
Poor fool i wont
Even give you the time
Are you judging me?
Your quite the choir
With a cracking voice
And
A tall house that falls
To scrutiny
A house for four and
A house for four
A people of choir and
A people of poor
Do you not recognize
The stains are yours?
A house is not a house
Unless there is more
More and more
Sometimes less is more
poem by Deci Hernandez
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Astonishing Forest
Where the house filled with living
The house continuously giving
Where the house filled with nature
The house filled with adventure
Anything can survive
With the nature it provides
Where the house filled with grass
The house filled with hedges, bushes and plants
Canopy trees be it rain or shine
Will be there for you at any time
Where the green house filled with fresh air
Will shelter you in the heavy rain
O the house of beauty
O the house of sound
So much variety is yet to be found
poem by Sehar Zaman
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My House of Human Skin
Look at me now, no uncouth wife
No mocking kids, no drab sex life
It all seems so immaterial in
My House of Human Skin
The waves of doubt that lapped my shores
Were quashed among the slavish whores
That visited my halls within
My House of Human Skin
I now have cold philosophy
That always comes easy to me
My thoughts will move forever in
My House of Human Skin
I am not God, I am not grace
Though I may have a normal face
I gave up being your kin within
My House of Human Skin
Emotionless, I walk these halls
Don't feel the need to talk no more
I cannot feel at all within
My House of Human Skin
One night some blacked-out faceless men
Took me away, I fought, I rent
But blood and bone were not within
My House of Human Skin
Now I stare at mattressed walls
I can no longer walk the halls
Yet my mind soars on mental wings
Cannot be stopped by trivial things
I've never been confined within
My House of Human Skin
poem by Matt Pocock
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Intro
This is not a test
This is reality
We're all lying
Who's in the house?
Who's in the house?
Who's in the house?
Limp Bizkit is in the house
Who's in the house?
Who's in the house?
Who's in the house?
Limp Bizkit is in the house
Bring it on
song performed by by Limp Bizkit from Chocolate Starfish And The Hot Dog Flavored Water
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Complicated Lifestyle.
a man's life is simple.
he has a routine, like this: house, office, house.
he gets bored, adds another place,
like house, office, park, mall, house,
waste of money, but a little interesting, he adds more
a friend's house, another house where he can be intimate with someone,
then sex, and games and romance and betrayal and use and sue and
lots of booze,
he retreats back to house, office, house,
but it is not the same again.
he sins, feels so broke, and
to a certain extent
attempts at suicide.
sad, but it can happen to you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Monument Of All Our Wrongs
i build a house
no one likes it.
the house is empty
i put some chairs.
someone comes and
says, this house is
lonely, it needs
a sound
it is boring and needs
a paint
i put a tree beside
its stairs
i grow another
fence
i put a lone bulb
on a post
and leave the house
for good
that is what the
house is made
there is always
missing
something is
always wrong
this is the house
of regret
it is the monument
of all our wrongs.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Intro
This is not a test
This is reality
We're all lying
Who's in the house?
Who's in the house?
Who's in the house?
Limp Bizkit is in the house
Who's in the house?
Who's in the house?
Who's in the house?
Limp Bizkit is in the house
Bring it on
song performed by by Limp Bizkit from Three Dollar Bill Y'all
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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‘To the Slaughter-house’- A Cattle-song!
To the slaughter-house! To the slaughter-house!
Here we cows all go;
We gave men milk and butter, ghee;
They want our beef now;
We’ve no other go.
To the slaughter-house! To the slaughter-house!
Here we oxen go;
We tilled their lands and milled oil-seeds;
They want our hide now;
We’ve no other go.
To the slaughter-house! To the slaughter-house!
Here we sheep all go;
We grazed their meadows, eating grass;
They want our mutton now;
We’ve no other go.
To the slaughter-house! To the slaughter-house!
Here we cattle go;
We served mankind as God said so;
Selfish men want our flesh now;
We’ve no other go.
To the slaughter-house! To the slaughter-house!
Here we animals go;
Jostled, huddled, unfed, crowded;
Men want our lives now;
This is our last ride, we all know;
We’ve no other go.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-20-2008
poem by John Celes
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Every House
Every house has a sun and moon,
And a little porcelain cup,
And a little silver spoon;
Every house has laughter and pain,
And feels the kiss of a needed rain.
Every house has a pet or two,
A cat in the tree,
A dove that coo;
Every house has a little mouse,
Lives in a hole he never comes out.
Every house has a window or two,
And some grass and trees,
And a sky that's blue;
Every house has a child that dreams,
As he plucks at raw reality's seams.
poem by Patti Masterman
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Don't Talk Old To Me
Don't tell me I should, I better, I can
Don't talk old to me
Don't shake that finger in my face no more
Cuz I might bite it off and spit it on the floor
Better get secure get my life insured
Buy a house and car that run
Better sell my bike, my leather coats
Those city auto parts and all my guns
Don't talk old to me
Don't talk so old to me
Don't talk old to me tonight, tonight
Don't tell me I should, I better, I can
Don't talk old to me
Don't shake that finger in my face no more
Cuz I might bite it off and spit it on the floor
Don't talk old to me
(Don't talk old to me)
Don't talk so old to me
(Don't talk old to me)
Don't talk old to me tonight, tonight
Don't talk old to me
(Don't talk old to me)
Kill me psychologically
(Psychologically)
Don't talk old to me tonight
Don't bark and I won't bite
Won't bite
Don't you bark
Better get secure get my life insured
Buy a house and car that run
Better sell my bike, my leather
Those city auto parts and all my guns
No fun, no fun
No fun, no fun, no fun, no fun fun fun
Don't talk old to me
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The House with Nobody in It
Whenever I walk to Suffern along the Erie track
I go by a poor old farmhouse with its shingles broken and black.
I suppose I've passed it a hundred times, but I always stop for a minute
And look at the house, the tragic house, the house with nobody in it.
I never have seen a haunted house, but I hear there are such things;
That they hold the talk of spirits, their mirth and sorrowings.
I know this house isn't haunted, and I wish it were, I do;
For it wouldn't be so lonely if it had a ghost or two.
This house on the road to Suffern needs a dozen panes of glass,
And somebody ought to weed the walk and take a scythe to the grass.
It needs new paint and shingles, and the vines should be trimmed and tied;
But what it needs the most of all is some people living inside.
If I had a lot of money and all my debts were paid
I'd put a gang of men to work with brush and saw and spade.
I'd buy that place and fix it up the way it used to be
And I'd find some people who wanted a home and give it to them free.
Now, a new house standing empty, with staring window and door,
Looks idle, perhaps, and foolish, like a hat on its block in the store.
But there's nothing mournful about it; it cannot be sad and lone
For the lack of something within it that it has never known.
But a house that has done what a house should do,
a house that has sheltered life,
That has put its loving wooden arms around a man and his wife,
A house that has echoed a baby's laugh and held up his stumbling feet,
Is the saddest sight, when it's left alone, that ever your eyes could meet.
So whenever I go to Suffern along the Erie track
I never go by the empty house without stopping and looking back,
Yet it hurts me to look at the crumbling roof and the shutters fallen apart,
For I can't help thinking the poor old house is a house with a broken heart.
poem by Joyce Kilmer
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In This House
in this house
where you've been
what you've seen
were the windows
in this house
where you've been
what you've seen
were the doors
in this house
where you've sat
what you ate
was your food
in this house
where you've sat
what you ate
was the word
in this house
where you stood
what you could
something say
in this house
you could open
windows doors clapping wings
in this house
you could open
soul that heaven upward sings
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Heart Beating In Time
Each day without fail
the road would visit the house
(it was the only house the road knew)
and the house too
would look forward to
the road’s visit.
Over the years they became
good friends.
Then one day the house died
from lack of people
and was torn down
until it was only
memory and rubble.
The road continued to visit it
but could only stare into empty space
at the place where the house
had been.
The road was lonely.
At night it talked to
the landscape and the stars
but life was never the same
again.
One day the road just up and died
from lack of use.
Now only the dream
of a memory exists
and the landscape and stars
talk to themselves
and try to remember
what it is...they have
forgot.
poem by Dónall Dempsey
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