Affectedness
I walk the Sunday streets once more
Long before the peal of church bells
Tuned to summon the hypocrites
From their cozy residences.
It will be awhile till they flock
En masse to the numinous house:
The butcher whose scale is slightly
Off in his favor; the lawyer
Whose soul was sold ages ago;
The car salesperson cramming cars;
Physicians unmindful of the poor
And an overweight clergyman
Orchestrating the proceedings.
Bong! Bong! Soon the parade begins.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Related quotes
Wacky Weed
Your fiction has a sickness,
And it is in deluxe.
Trimmed with a mouth piece minted,
Sweetened to touch.
Bong bong wicky sticky bong bong.
You fed on the weed.
You fed on that wacky weed.
You fed on the weed.
You fed on that wacky weed.
In a bong bong bong.
There is no truth you mention,
While you do that stuff.
Your motives are quite hidden,
And you munch too much.
You fed on the weed.
Wicky sticky bong bong
You fed on that wacky weed.
In a bong bong.
You fed on the weed.
Wicky sticky bong bong
You fed on that wacky weed.
In a bong bong bong.
Your fiction has a sickness,
And it is in deluxe.
Trimmed with a mouth piece minted,
Sweetened to touch.
Bong bong wicky sticky bong bong.
You fed on the weed.
Wicky sticky bong bong
You fed on that wacky weed.
In a bong bong.
You fed on the weed.
Wicky sticky bong bong
You fed on that wacky weed.
In a bong bong bong.
Wicky sticky bong bong.
Wick wicky sticky bong.
Wicky sticky bong bong.
Wick wicky sticky bong.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beer Bong
If I want some beer
I don't want to hear
About how I missed the show
Because I drink to slow
So pass me the beer bong
It wont take very long
For me to put down
This torpedo to the ground
Because drinking beer is to slow
Beer bong is the way to go
To go to go
Don't drink to slow!
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spies
Sick and tired, the way they walk
Sick and tired, the way they talk
Sick and tired, the things they say
Sick and tired, wheres my j?
Sick and tired, same old song
Sick and tired, wheres my bong?
Sick and tired, anarchy!
Spies are all around me, spies in every county
Spies, my heads are bounty
Snipers in the air
The neighborhood watch is after us.
The neighborhood watch dont like richters bus
The neighborhood watch is what they say,
But when I see them walkin towards me, I light another...
Generation x is the title they use
When I skate down mackenzie avenue.
Everybody that I see is lookin at me like a vandal
Maybe cause Im (wheelin? ) in some dickies and some sandals
Man, I know what you mean when you talk about the neighborhood
The old folks always sayin that we aint no good
Talkin to my pops about my music
Sayin we should keep it down and not abuse it
Man, I dont sweat those old ass bastards.
I just sit on the curb and with my herb and get plastered
They work all day long, they seem so bored
I think their ass should reside in the county morgue
Theyre postin up signs, man I think they should chill
Talkin if I dont call the cops then my neighbor will
Cause from city to city its all the same.
The neighborhood watch is a big ass gang
Sick and tired the way they walk,
Sick and tired the way they talk
Sick and tired the things they say, sick and tired. wheres my j?
Sick and tired, same old song, sick and tired wheres my bong?
Sick and tired, anarchy!
Spies are all around me, spies in every county
Spies, my heads are bounty
Snipers in the air
The neighborhood watch is after us.
The neighborhood watch dont like richters bus
The neighborhood watch is what they say,
But when I think theyre walkin towards me, I light another...
Every night when the street lights came on
We used to gather round, take rips from that bong.
Cause john wayne country, republican block
A bunch of overweight housewives that wanna be cops.
Cook and clean, the life of slave
Take kottonmouths advice and call jenny craig
Its not in my control, when we were in school
Wanna see us livin life like the golden rule
Peepin out the window, folks always looking
Minding my business when they should be cooking
Bored is how their life must be,
Wait till theres a real crime on our street
Thats when, yeah theyll all run and hide
Leaving kottonmouth behind to take the neighborhood pride
When the criminals are lying dead in the streets
Kottonmouths returning all the stolen tvs
Yeah but thats all right, its all good
Now you know whos watchin this neighborhood
Cause from city to city its all the same
The neighborhood watch is a bitch ass gang
Sick and tired, the way they walk
Sick and tired, the way they talk
Sick and tired, the things they say
Sick and tired, wheres my j?
Sick and tired, same old song
Sick and tired, wheres my bong?
Sick and tired, anarchy!
Spies are all around me, spies in every county
Spies, my heads are bounty
Snipers in the air
The neighborhood watch is after us.
The neighborhood watch dont likerichters bus.
The neighborhood watch is what they say,
But when I see them walkin towards me, I light another...
song performed by by Kottonmouth Kings
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beer Song
If I want some beer I dont want to hear about how I missed the show
Because I drink to slow so pass me the beer bong it wont take very long
For me to put down this torpedo to the ground because drinking beer is too
Slow beer bong is the way to go to go to go dont drink too slow !
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unfold
words & music by jason mraz
Hands in line
Arms close to my side
I'm fighting tides of an ocean's undertow
And I figure I might not make it
And I'm taking empty
But seldom keeping
And the words retreat breathing histories into stories untold
And I unfold.
My hands are high
And I'm holding out, holding up
Because I figure that I just might make it
And I'm waking empty but seldom sleeping
And the words repeat breathing histories into stories untold
And I unfold.
Quality is what you see now in the corner of your eye.
Don't be surprised if you hear the bells ring
They form from the sky and they sound bong, bong, bong
And I'm holding up because I figure that I just make it.
And I'm waking empty but seldom sleeping
And the words repeat breathing histories into stories untold
And I unfold.
song performed by by Jason Mraz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hypocrites in the Church? Yes, and in the lodge and at the home. Don't hunt through the Church for a hypocrite. Go home and look in the mirror. Hypocrites? Yes. See that you make the number one less.
quote by Billy Sunday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God And Austerity
God and Austerity
The supermarket which calls itself Forum,
has a bell tower, but now in time of
austerity no one flocks to buy anything
when its bells rings every hour.
Sunday, when I drove my wife to church
the car park was full and the bells didn’t
toll in vain; and when I looked through
the window people were singing hymns.
When time is good, god becomes distant
But now with economic times and threats
of a new war is looming, people turn to
an abstraction in time of a unsure future.
Mind, god looks after his own flock, walking
around the car park I noticed most cars
looked new, but if you have got it and want
to keep it a prayer goes a long way.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Bredon Hill
In summertime on Bredon
The bells they sound so clear;
Round both the shires they ring them
In steeples far and near,
A happy noise to hear.
Here of a Sunday morning
My love and I would lie,
And see the coloured counties,
And hear the larks so high
About us in the sky.
The bells would ring to call her
In valleys miles away:
'Come all to church, good people;
Good people, come and pray.
But here my love would stay.
And I would turn and answer
Among the springing thyme,
'Oh, peal upon our wedding,
And we will hear the chime,
And come to church in time.
But when the snows at Christmas
On Bredon top were strewn,
My love rose up so early
And stole out unbeknown
And went to church alone.
They tolled the one bell only,
Groom there was none to see,
The mourners followed after,
And so to church went she,
And would not wait for me.
The bells they sound on Bredon,
And still the steeples hum.
'Come all to church, good people,' -
Oh, noisy bells, be dumb;
I hear you, I will come.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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Your Sister
Thieves, and pain, and nauseating pills
Lies, and nails, and nauseating pills
Why am I so hung up on your sister?
Why am I so hung up on you mom?
I thought that I would never even miss her
I thought that I would never use the bong
And I never cry like that
And I never swear like that
And I never lose my mind
Thieves, and pain, and dragon colored tears
Still, remain and cover up the years
Why am I so hung up on your sister?
Why am I so hung up on you mom?
I thought that I would never even miss her
I thought that I would never use the bong
And I never cry like that
And I never swear like that
And I never lose my mind
Why am I so hung up on your sister?
Why am I so hung up on you mom?
I thought that I would never even miss her
I thought that I would never use the bong
And I never cry like that
song performed by by Weezer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Walk These Streets Alone
I walk these streets alone why U ask, because that's all i know and the reason i'm so ignorant is because him always on the go
I walk these streets alone meeting customer after customer getting in and out of random cars
I walk these streets alone as if the streets are empty as i go on my devilish duty.
I walk these streets alone clueless to the danger surrounding me, as if him invisible to any danger.
I walk the streets alone as if every person i meet sees me as a stranger.
I walk these streets alone, as sad as it may seem i prefer my own company but at times i still get lonely.
I walk these streets alone but don't feel sorry for me, for i know what i'm getting myself into. and i know the consequences if i get caught
I walk these streets alone regardless of what I've been taught...
poem by Leon Scott
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See That My Grave Is Kept Clean
(first releaseblind lemon jefferson)
Well theres one kind of favor Ill ask for you
Well theres one kind of favor Ill ask for you
Theres just one kind of favor Ill ask for you
You can see that my grave is kept clean.
And theres two white horses following me
And theres two white horses following me
I got two white horses following me
Waiting on my burying ground.
Did you ever hear that coffin sound
Did you ever hear that coffin sound
Did you ever hear that coffin sound
Means another poor boy is underground.
Did you ever hear them church bells toll
Did you ever hear them church bells toll
Did you ever hear them church bells toll
Means another poor boy is dead and gone.
And my heart stopped beating and my hands turned cold
And my heart stopped beating and my hands turned cold
And my heart stopped beating and my hands turned cold
Now I believe what the Bible told.
Theres just one last favor Ill ask for you
And theres one last favor Ill ask for you
Theres just one last favor Ill ask for you
See that my grave is kept clean.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Remembering The Philosophy Writing Club Of 1980
the ark, the cover is a drawing of
three yellow sunflowers on a yellow cartolina
it is cynthia v.
on the loose, and there was norman naromal, edith requina,
flor chamen, elvi tamayo, ruschel salvana, lino moleta,
boni quirog, susie cantos, bong jabla, paul suaybaguio,
bong daray, jean lim, james piap, elsa lee, marking que, greg casino,
we thanked fr. moga, lilia, fr. esquerra, fr. barcelon, and everyone,
we thank them for everything
there were small brown birds of the common species
on the Ark of Noah
i was there on pages seven, ten, eight, and nine
on the three levels of seeing
there was this man who was trying to figure
things, who am i? what i am up to? where am i going?
his name is
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Smell Of Petroleum
The shaman came a calling
He was howling at the moon
He offered me a vision
On the end of a silver spoon
He said hed give me dreams
That all were in his powers
If only I would follow him
The universe was ours
Walked a thin white line to the coffin club
Downstairs from the devils den
Had a large double jesus
Chased down with a shot of zen
The last thing I remember
Was lying in the tank
And when I came around again
Everything was blank
Floating high above the world
Out on the astral plane
Im bouncing like a pinball
Hes busy being born again
I met God on primrose hill
Thats where he came to me
He stepped out of his saucer
I got down on my knees
From his lips came just one word
He left me all aglow
I sat down and had a smoke
And watched the flowers grow
The bats are in the belfry
And the bubbles in the bong
The secret of the universe
Is hidden in this song
The shaman left a crawling
As the dawn broke the gloom
Talking in some other tongue
And laughing like a loon
The early morning sunlight
Splashed colours on the wall
And I dont know if it ever
Really happened at all
The bats are in the belfry
And the bubbles in the bong
The molecules inside my head
Are chiming like a gong
The bats are in the belfry
And the bubbles in the bong
The secret of the universe
Is hidden in this song
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Theme From A Nofx Album
Theme were professional punkers we come from the sublures
After 15 years we still having fun
Now were over 30 not looking so purty at least we got a beat up accordian
Thats erik our drummer his fathers a plumber
He drank enough booze to get rhode island drunk
Now hes straight but smelly hes got one big belly
From living the good life provided by punk
Singnin singnin singnin
Buy me a becks bear or pass me the bong
Gimme some bushmills Ill sing you this song
Open another big box of cheap wine were over 30 doin just fine
El hefe is not satanic hes one hip hispanic
He grew up with one dozencousins and kin
He wears baggy pants and he knows how to break dance
Youve seen him doing every impersonation
That melvin on six string so tell me I cant sing
Oh I know you can just dont do it around me
Stick with what you know
Playing guitar solo with hetson and watt in punk rock karaoke
Singnin singnin singnin
Buy me a becks bear or pass me the bong
Gimme some bushmills Ill sing you this song
Open another big box of cheap wine were over 30 doin just fine
My name is fat mike Im obsessed by big lesbians
Ive been a punk rocker for most of my life
I sing kinda flat Im not really so fat
But thats how I hit them with a hook or a slice
Im kent I do sounds look hes getting so round
Im timmy the turtle he counts and he clicks
Im gay I dont care someone please cut his hair
Im limo from scotland so give me hanggis
Singnin singnin singnin
Buy me a becks bear or pass me the bong
Gimme some bushmills Ill sing you this song
Open another big box of cheap wine were over 30 doin just fine
Buy me a becks bear or pass me the bong
Gimme some bushmills Ill sing you this song
Buy me a quamlude or chop me a lime were pushin 40 were doin just fine
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Half-Crown Sweep
The run of Billabong-go-dry
Is just beyond Lime Burner's Gap;
Its waterhole and tank supply
Is excellent -- upon the map.
But lacking nature's liquid drench,
The station staff are wont to try
With "Bob-in Sweeps" their thirst to quench,
Or nearly quench, at Bong-go-dry.
The parson made five-yearly rounds
That soil of arid souls to delve,
He wrote, "I'll come for seven pounds,
Or I could stop away for twelve."
But lack of lucre brought about
The pusillanimous reply:
"Our luxuries are all cut out,
You'll have to go to Bong-go-dry."
Now rabbit skins were very high --
There'd been a kind of rabbit rush --
And what with traps and sticks they'd shy,
The station blacks were very flush,
And each was taught his churchman's job,
"When that one parson's plate comes roun'
No good you put in sprat or bob,
Too quick you put in harp-a-crown."
The parson's word was duly kept,
He came and did his bit of speak;
The boss remarked he hadn't slept
So sound and well for many a week.
But Gilgai Jack and Monkey Jaw
Regarded preaching as a crime
Against good taste; they said, "What for
That one chap yabber all the time?"
Proceedings ceased: the boss's hat
Was raked from underneath his chair;
The coloured congregation sat
And waited with expectant air.
At last from one far-distant seat
Where Gilgai's Mary'd been asleep,
There came a kind of plaintive bleat,
"Say, boss! Who won the harp-crown sweep?"
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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A Night In Hospital
I had a vague discomfort in my chest
So I was admitted for a cardiac test.
In the heart ward the machines go beep.
It was somewhat difficult to get some sleep.
That night was dark and seemed too long,
Beep, beep, beep and an occasional bong.
I stared at a monitor on the opposite side
Attached anonymity the dark did hide.
Across his screen are jumping green flashes
An irregular rhythm of dots and dashes.
Each minute was a hundred and five beats
On this line balanced his life and feats.
There was a golden line that also jumped
His chest controlled by an autonomic pump.
Up and down that continuous line goes
Twenty per minute he continually blows.
So how many dreams were in those lines?
His life-time shown through digitised signs.
In the shadows she came dressed in white,
Seductively came the lady of the night.
Beep, beep, beep and an occasional bong
Then silence, the siren sings her sweet song.
You sound like a man with a vision. Care to pass that bong over this way?
quote by Paul Vixie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vacancy, For Rent
walking the streets
of a small southern town...
empty buildings, empty houses,
'vacancy, for rent'
no one moving much,
even the church parking lots
are empty.... seems like
Jesus and His disciples
packed up, and moved on...
probably looking for work!
only a sense of quiet despair,
the sound of old cars rusting,
and the howling of a dog.
just read the news:
an elderly couple, married
67 years, murder suicide...
he'd been sick, she had
alzheimer's.... afraid there'd
be no one to take care of her...
another unmarked grave,
forgotten people, abandoned
by their own government.....
another empty house that
used to be a home...
'vacancy, for rent.'
just walking the streets
of a small southern town...
church bells are ringing...
and the smell of death
hangs in the air!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Red riding hood
In the jungle named city
Johnny and Sally
dressed in their church best,
(she with a little red jacket and hood for winter)
one Sunday evening walked to church
when the cruel wolf
(a black monster) ,
drew a long knife
to take God’s money with violence and force,
but unluckily for him
they made him cry long howls
even before the moon did appear
when one two three
they chopped and kicked him using karate
and walked on quite unimpeded
before the church bells were even ringing.
poem by Gert Strydom
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On the Ning Nang Nong
On the Ning Nang Nong
Where the Cows go Bong!
and the monkeys all say BOO!
There's a Nong Nang Ning
Where the trees go Ping!
And the tea pots jibber jabber joo.
On the Nong Ning Nang
All the mice go Clang
And you just can't catch 'em when they do!
So its Ning Nang Nong
Cows go Bong!
Nong Nang Ning
Trees go ping
Nong Ning Nang
The mice go Clang
What a noisy place to belong
is the Ning Nang Ning Nang Nong!!
poem by Spike Milligan
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