In A Room Of So Many
In this room I am one with myself,
I sit alone, away from them, from the people,
I sit in the chair in the back, with only myself,
None notices me except the two people next to me.
They sit around me laughing with friends, playing their games,
They are all happy, all together, with one another,
But thats what it is to them, a game,
They don't need more people they don; t need another.
The girl on my right sits, lost, in her book,
Maybe she's there with the characters, in the past, or maybe the futrue,
She looks from word to word page to page within her book.
This is her pasttime, her fantsy, she is lost to know the books future.
To my left a boy sits facing the wall, music playing,
Both thumbs pressed against the small arrow keys,
POKeMON is what he sits and plays;
The small animals battleing growing, and looking for keys.
And here, in the middle of them of all the others, I sit alone,
At the tabble in my bubble of scilence, the aloness of being non-social,
In my green chair I write, alone.
If only I could talk to them, if only I were social.
So many people playing so many things,
UNO, rummy, conect four, cards and sharades,
These are only a few of the things,
Yet they don't notice me, my longing to know them, my own sharades.
This room is filled with every feeling, everything good,
So few differences, yet so many,
I feel apart from them, yet in a way watching feels good.,
Sitill I sit and I write, I am alone, I am one, in the room of so many.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Related quotes
People Everywhere: Social Music (Original 11 03 2009)
PEOPLE EVERYWHERE: SOCIAL MUSIC
Original 11 03 3009
People everywhere over here over there people
In poor bread lines people in pony drawn carriages
People on a chariot with a rumble seat people on a
Climb on a mountain steep people on a dime on a
Corner on Wall Street –street people -people everywhere
Everywhere there’s a drummer. Where you going?
Everywhere you go you go with a beat you go with
Where the music is… where the music is “social man
What’s jazz? ” People everywhere just social that’s all
New Orleans people social all the way up river to
Kansas City on up to Chicago don’t make no difference
If your name is Santiago Obama Bergson Rothschild
Bush just social People -Montrose New York City
People social all the way to Rio Paris Johannesburg
Brazil Belize over all the bridges –London Suez
Toronto Montreal people in a dim café -social
People in church every weekday and everyday
Everywhere there’s a temple play -Joe’s Place
People social man -music social don’t make no
Difference where you get together whoever is playing
Just playing so you keep on playing with everybody
Playing -people play social music man –man or
Woman don’t understand just don’t stop playing
People everywhere want to be there to see it -up here
You playing social music -understand -just don’t
Stop playing -people everywhere get hungry lose
Patience -people everywhere not playing social music
When you stop playing social music people every-
Where stop –trying to figure out why everybody
Stop playing social music -nothing social about
Playing a whole lot of music -nothing truly social
In a lot of music -the next thing you know a short
Spell and before long you got wars breaking out
Stop playing and its hell -that’s not social any more.
Lee Mack copyright 2009. ISBN # 0615318347. Do not reproduce without permission.
poem by Lee B. Mack
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Confused
A girl at 15 sits in her room and begins to write in her journal.
I just started to notice certain people in a romantic way.
I notice their scent as they walk by.
I remember the sound of their laugh.
I notice ever muscle tone in their body.
And I daydream about their lips kissing mine and taking my breath away.
But I’m confused because those who I have romantic feeling about are the same sex as me
I Hear Her Playing Music
I hear her playing music
In her room alone at night
She just moved in a month ago
She isn't gonna play the game
I though she'd smile
And come on slow
I still don't even know her name
She must like being lonely
Got no time for anyone
But I hear her play that stereo
Right through to the rising sun
I hear her playing music
In her room alone all night
Through the day she's so elusive
Staying safe and out of sight
If you say hello she lets it go
Cool and so polite
And I hear her playing music
In her room alone at night
Baby are you sad and lonely
Or did somebody do you wrong
'Cause I know that you need only
Look my way
And they'll play our song
And I love your nightly music
But you can't keep playing through
'Cause I'm having trouble sleeping
And when I do I dream of you
I thought I'd try and break the freeze
And win her heart with harmony
So I answered back
And played a stack of my favorite CD's
But she just doesn't hear me
Doesn't have a word to say
So I stay awake and turn it up
Hoping she'll look out my way
I hear her playing music
In her room alone at night
Through the day she's so elusive
Staying safe and out of sight
If you say hello she lets it go
Cool and so polite
And I hear her playing Dave Koz
In her room alone at night
In her room alone at night
Baby are you sad and lonely
Baby won't you tell me your name
I'm in my room alone at night
You're in your room alone at night
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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L2,7,22
people are playing games
often they fight, the rules are
changed without notice,
people are killing each other,
the dead lose, the winner is
the living, there is no more
argument about this,
case is closed.
they play their games over
and over again, time is a
room, there are no referees,
no one is just, inherent is
the fraud, the swindler is
the hero, the rich ones have
always crimes behind their
great fortunes,
sometimes they go to court,
judges are made by them
in accordance with their genes,
and those who mold them from
their own clay, are those that
always win
such is the state of affairs,
to cover all these, these twisted
ways, those that have the gold,
invent religion, create society,
write their history, proclaim their
deities, codify their laws, print
the books, carpenter their
own kind of teachers, sculpt
a civilization,
i am a small man, i do not have
many years in my cells, i simply
watch, i do not say much, i keep
my mouth shut, i write a diary,
i keep a journal, i have a blog,
i do facebook, i fit in, i am not
that twisted somehow, i have
objections, i protest inside my
square head, i write in ciphers, i do
not want to be understood, neither
do i want myself to be used.
if you read me, you get nothing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Room With A View
First thing he does when he climbs out of bed
He searches out a place to drink his daily bread
He wraps himself up tight in alcohol
It keeps him warm at night, like grandmas shawl,
When he was a child, with everything planned,
And his body was clean
Now he sits all alone
In a room with a view of the brick wall he's run into
Life has a way of leaving people like him stained
First thing she does when she goes out at night
She sells a smile to get what fills her inside
She brings plenty home and slowly gets stoned in a room by herself
She sits all alone in a room with a view of the brick wall she's run into
Life has a way of leaving people like us stained
song performed by by Warrant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memo To Human Resources
I'll be in the back, and I don't need the help
I'm good here in the back
I'm good all by myself
I'm busy taking stock of all the things that I've forgot (5 4 3 2)
And making mental notes of just exactly where I lost the plot (2 2 2 2)
I stuck around too long feeling sorry for myself
A disinvited guest rifles through the bathroom shelf
I'm searching for some disbelief that I can still suspend (5 4 3 2)
But never mind the furthermore-the plea is self-defense again (2 2 2 2)
Then the people came to talk me down
And I got some advice
Then the people came to talk me down
But I don't need advice-I'm down
Later in my car I considered what you said
I'm good here in my car
I'm good with what you said
And I'd be shouting out to you but I was mighty hoarse
Talk you through the finer points and issues much too small to force
Then the people came to talk me down
And I got some advice
Then the people came to talk me down
But I don't need advice-I'm down
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dotty and Willy.
Dotty screws the pen lid,
puts the pen down, folds
her hands in her lap. Willy
has finished his poem, he
is now silent, his muse has
gone. She watches as her
brother sits back in his chair,
pushes his fingers through his
dark hair and sighs. That makes
her almost cry, that poet muse
going like that, him sitting there,
face empty, sighs leaving him
instead of words. Tonight she
will enter it all in her journal,
after cocoa and a biscuit and
Willy's kiss and him gone off
to bed, humming to himself.
She will sit by lamplight, take
out her pen, and write on the
clean page, how he wrote,
what he wrote, the words,
the muse, the leaving of him.
She will leave out the kiss,
the embrace, the seeing each
other face to face. Willy hates
writing things down, he just likes
to sit when the words come and
he can speak them and let Dotty
write the words in the air floating
there. He gets up from his chair,
paces the room, his hands behind
his back, his words gone, his mood
dark, becoming black. Dotty looks
at her hands, entwines her fingers,
makes a church, makes a steeple,
looks inside, sees ink stained people.
poem by Terry Collett
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Home Alone Happy Without Working Computer
Home alone happy without working computer
I take my pen in hand
And slowly write these words –
Let the world click and paste and post
I am out of it for now-
I have before me an evening of any book I like
Of any page I want to write
-
Peace of Mind is one place of attention at a time-
Here weighing each word as I write
I am at home with my inner self-
I hear my own thoughts
I correct them at my own pace.
So many words and so many pages
Have been written in my life-
Now in this one
I am wholly at home
Peaceful, quiet happy
Each word a small blessing
As I write it-
This is the only poem I know
The only page I see
The only place of attention
I give myself and my soul to
At this moment.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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replaying mozart's serenade #3 in G
middle age sits on a bench
at the park
just watching people pass by-
a fat lady with a pink purse as small as as a snail
a thin man looking like he's dying of tuberculosis
a little boy being held tight by his mom smiling at me
two lovers as sweet as sugar and walking too close like a glued pair of slippers
middle age sits alone and laughs loud like he's winning
this lonely game of optical illusion
this trajectory projection
middle age inside this cell of himself
looking for an opening
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Father's Chair
Parliaments of Henry III., 1265
There are four good legs to my Father's Chair--
Priests and People and Lords and Crown.
I sits on all of 'em fair and square,
And that is reason it don't break down.
I won't trust one leg, nor two, nor three,
To carry my weight when I sets me down.
I wants all four of 'em under me--
Priests and People and Lords and Crown.
I sits on all four and favours none--
Priests, nor People, nor Lords, nor Crown:
And I never tilts in my chair, my son,
And that is the reason it don't break down.
When your time comes to sit in my Chair,
Remember your Father's habits and rules,
Sit on all four legs, fair and square,
And never be tempted by one-legged stools!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Expensive Chair - Its A Beautiful Thing B-side
Your face is looking like
Someone you forgot you used to know
You were looking for rhymes and reason
They forgot the things you used to know
You came to rely on good fortune
Your mothers screaming low
With the sky in the eye
And jump through the window
Youve made your own room at the top
Well its getting thin on air
Still you look at me from your most expensive chair
And when youre feeling fit to drop
And you find theres no one there
Still you look at me from your most expensive chair
You dont wanna shout about it
When theres nothing you care to know
Your friends they just laugh about it
In the places that you never go
You cannot deny your good fortune
Your friends they wont let go
See your hair is in place
And see away from the window
Repeat chorus
Youre the judge how high it hangs
When your castles made of sand
Because the people who kill the king
Are the people who move from within
You cant rely on good fortune
Your friends are crying low
Kick your feet from the chair
And let it slip from the gallow
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Ocean Colour Scene
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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War Games
You’re playing your War Games yet again
Aircraft Carriers, Tanks and Jeeps
Fighting the warfare, and giving pain
Feeling no Karma, you’re in too deep,
You can’t keep starting War Games yet again
A Constitution’s good, not written in stone.
Searching for your Holy Grail
Fighting a War feeling pain
You know it’s going to fail
Peace is the answer, and feeding the poor.
You’ve got power, but you don’t want to let it go, Let it go!
Don't keep on fighting your war games yet again.
The face of the future is asking you How?
You’ll never win any War, so show restrain
You look everywhere, in the back of your mind
Your still playing your war games we must complain
Protecting your finances, while you’ve still got time
Peace is the answer, well it’s better, much better than war
So just remember, you have to, you've got to let us know
When you stop playing your war games forever
You’re playing your War Games together
I want you to make peace and not war
I’m sure you’ve heard that before
You’ve got the power to end it this very day
So stop playing your war games without delay
Let little children grow up in peace,
Stop playing your war games, be clever
It’s better to talk, for the sake of our Earth
You can’t keep playing your war games for ever
Your building a barrier, why can’t you see
You’ve got the cheek to question my sanity.
Just stop playing your War Games altogether
You know talking is the right thing to do
poem by Gordon David
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A Forest-killburn Nat'l Version
Again i hear a voice
Her voice calling my name
Write the song and call in the beach
And you hear her call
A rose some call it
And watch the sun come up from the edge of the deep green sea
She called my name
And faith
Saying
The stone white clown still laughing after all these years
Some people i'd like to meet
Everytime you take the way to bring me a smile
Never look away from you
In everyway i take the way that you smile
And never look away from you
There's only a picture of her
Fuschia rests inside my heart
Just with a picture of her
Just with a picture of her
And write a letter to elise
And you know she'll never write back in a a hundred years
Can't touch the idol
The siamese twins of fire
Figurehead girl
It all sits inside of me
Just sits inside of me
Just sits inside of me
A place we can go
There's a place we can go
There's a place we can go
There's a place we can go
There's a place we can go
Take me there
Take me there
Take me there
Take me there
Take me there.
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Is The Word 'Beauty' And Why Does It Mean So Much To Me?
What is this word ‘Beauty' and why does it mean so much to me?
Why do I see it in so many things?
The trees the flowers
The yellows and the greens
The road stretching before me
The distance of the sky
The light in a small child's eyes
Music that moves me to tears
All kinds of melodies
That linger in people's faces
Kind words and kinder deeds
What is this word ‘Beauty' and why does it mean so much to me?
And why in this small child playing near me now
Do I feel the Goodness and Greatness of God
The Beauty of everything?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The lonely old lady
She sits in her favourite chair
her dog lies by her slippered feet
a cup of tea in an arthritic hand.
The television is on in the corner
she sees it as a very close friend
talking to the newsreader about her day.
She stares over at the telephone
praying that someone will call
it hasn't rung for a long time.
The postman has just been
she wishes he'd come in for a chat
but people are so busy these days.
The pretty weather girl is talking
it's going to be a hot and sunny day
the old lady tells her she looks nice.
Struggling to get to her aching feet
she looks out of her living room window
people and cars go quickly by.
Sitting back down in her favourite chair
she bends to pick up her little dog
and stroking him she starts to cry.
The old lady died in her favourite chair
her little dog sat for weeks by her slippered feet
the postman kept pushing the mail through.
poem by Kevin Halls
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Two Word Lines
I write
my pain
and its
just another poem
its just
the same
all the heart ache that goes onto this page
only takes me back to the place where I await
behind the curtains of an empty stage
the pain
I write
I wrote this
I locked my own cage
I threw away the key to he that did see me rage
and still
I write
yes still
I fight
hoping that I might find something you feel
because these two word lines are just rhymes
when I say them back they aren't real
I'm sick and tired of talking about better times
forcing things like a relationship two people don't really want
a mum and dad staying together for the sake of the kids when the love is really gone.
Look at this back and see my two word lines
see my two word lines
are one.
poem by Daniel McCann
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The History Of You And Me
Everytime you think of me.
Write it all down in your diary.
And never forget you were mine.
'Cause you can write a book about love.
And you can write a book about history.
The history of you and me..
On every page that you write.
Move your pen, with those old memories of me.
Holding me in your arms.
'Cause you can write a book about love.
And you can write a book about history.
The history of you and me..
Try not to miss a word.
Don't miss a single word, about those old romantic nights.
The nights you spent with me.
'Cause you can write a book about love.
And you can write a book about history.
The history of you and me..
Yaahh! The history of you and me....
Love Song Poem By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1990,2009..
ALL rights reserved..
poem by Kim Robin Edwards
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Lost In A Book
SHHH!
don't bother me
I'm lost in a book
mixed up with
the complicated plots
and outrageous characters
when i'm lost in a book
I don't have to think
about my life
I'll get stuck in
a fantasy world
and never
have to come back
home again
one book
after another
I read, read, read
different places
different people
a new world
I start fresh
each time
I open up a new book
when i'm lost in a book
I am safe
no one can hurt me
I'm happy
when I'm lost
in a book
poem by Annie Janine
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If Someone 'Is' Dismissed
Do not believe for one second,
One dismissed sits and fidgets...
Wishing their presence is missed.
Too many perceive they have the power to do this.
As if the one that has been dismissed,
Sits making adjustments...
In a chair doing nothing,
But looking at thumbs as a twisting of them is done.
Do not believe for one second,
One dismissed sits with wishes to be enlisted...
Into a clique of forget-me-nots full of 'wannabees'.
And usually they are the ones issuing approvals,
To those fearing rejection.
Too many perceive they have the power to do this.
As if the one that has been dismissed,
Sits making adjustments...
In a chair doing nothing,
But looking at thumbs as a twisting of them is done.
Do not believe for one second,
One dismissed sits and fidgets...
Wishing their presence is missed.
How foolish would this be...
If someone sat seeking for an authority,
To approve the choosing of what they do...
And 'who' they should do it with.
If someone 'is' dismissed,
They should be glad of it.
Since there has been a lifting from them,
Any kind of restrictions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Just The Way It Is....
this morning i bring a book
under a tree
and i begin to read
every page
the sun comes up
the sun comes down
I've done my duty to keep the peace of this world
to try to understand what complications
mankind has made
i am simplifying what i can do to make this world
a place for us
page by page
word to word
cover to cover
tonight i will go back to my room
sleep on my bed
it will be cold and dark
just the way it is.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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