The Dinkum Aussie Block
What have we missed? Now he returns no more
We are left with but our blindness to deplore,
But, concentrating on his spats instead,
Missed all the lure of that impressive head.
Caricaturists, gazing at his feet,
Drew little else, and deemed the sketch complete;
Likewise cartoonists, whose gaunt fingers crept
Unconsciously to limn him as they slept.
And we poor Aussies of the rough hewn 'dile,'
Think to salve our vanity the while,
Who said: 'Though we've a gargoyle for a face,
At least 'tis typical of our strong race'
Where are we now? Where is our last excuse
For owning features so unlike a Bruce?
The Bruce, round whom admiring artists flock
Because he owns the dinkum Aussie block.
He kept his block; and keeping it became
A classic type to spread his country's fame.
While we poor groundlings, with our eyes cast down,
Saw only feet to bolster his renown.
Could we not raise our eyes? And now, bereft
Of pride, we've but this consolation left;
Still humble members we - plain as we are
Of that proud race that claims him avatar.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Related quotes
They'll None of 'Em Be Missed
As some day it may happen that a victim must be found,
I've got a little list - I've got a little list
Of social offenders who might well be underground,
And who never would be missed - who never would be missed!
There's the pestilential nuisances who write for autographs -
All people who have flabby hands and irritating laughs -
All children who are up in dates, and floor you with 'em flat -
All persons who in shaking hands, shake hands with you like THAT -
And all third persons who on spoiling TETE-E-TETES insist -
They'd none of 'em be missed - they'd none of 'em be missed!
There's the nigger serenader, and the others of his race,
And the piano organist - I've got him on the list!
And the people who eat peppermint and puff it in your face,
They never would be missed - they never would be missed!
Then the idiot who praises, with enthusiastic tone,
All centuries but this, and every country but his own;
And the lady from the provinces, who dresses like a guy,
And who "doesn't think she waltzes, but would rather like to try";
And that FIN-DE-SIECLE anomaly, the scorching motorist -
I don't think he'd be missed - I'm SURE he'd not be missed!
And that NISI PRIUS nuisance, who just now is rather rife,
The Judicial humorist - I've got HIM on the list!
All funny fellows, comic men, and clowns of private life -
They'd none of 'em be missed - they'd none of 'em be missed!
And apologetic statesmen of the compromising kind,
Such as - What-d'ye-call-him - Thing'em-Bob, and likewise - Never-
mind,
And 'St - 'st - 'st - and What's-his-name, and also - You-know-who-
(The task of filling up the blanks I'd rather leave to YOU!)
But it really doesn't matter whom you put upon the list,
For they'd none of 'em be missed - they'd none of 'em be missed!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Kaw-liga
Hank williams
Kaw-liga was a wooden indian standing by the door
He fell in love with an indian maid over in the antique store
Kaw-liga just stood there and never let it show
So she could never answer yes or no
He always wore his sunday feathers and held a tomahawk
The maiden wore her beads and braids and hoped someday hed talk
Kaw-liga, too stubborn to ever show a sign
Because his heart was made of knotty pine
Poor old kaw-liga, he never got a kiss
Poor old kaw-liga, he dont know what he missed
Is it any wonder that his face is red?
Kaw-liga,that poor old wooden head
Kaw-liga was a lonely indian, never went nowhere
His heart was set on the indian maid with the coal black hair
Kaw-liga just stood there and never let it show
So she could never answer yes or no
Poor old kaw-liga, he never got a kiss
Poor old kaw-liga, he dont know what he missed
Is it any wonder that his face is red?
Kaw-liga,that poor old wooden head
Then one day a wealthy customer bought the indian maid
And took her oh so far away, but old kaw-liga stayed
Kaw-liga just stands there as lonely as can be
And wishes he was still an old pine tree
Poor old kaw-liga, he never got a kiss
Poor old kaw-liga, he dont know what he missed
Is it any wonder that his face is red?
Kaw-liga,that poor old wooden head
Kaw-liga, kaw-liga kaw-liga....
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Soldiers, Two Sisters Each
So proud we stood,
My sister, Marge, and me-
Our brother, Bruce,
As he was meant to be-
And who'd of thought?
Our country 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee we sing, and send
Our brother, Bruce.
While over there,
Somewhere across the sea,
Two other fools,
With brother proud to be-
And he so brave,
To save his family
And keep his country free-
His death for liberty-
Wears soldier clothes.
Our brother, Bruce,
Will meet his destiny.
Their brother too,
As he was meant to be,
Will take a life,
Protecting liberty-
That Bruce again won't see
His sisters proud that he
Wore soldier clothes.
Race Of Veterans
RACE of veterans! Race of victors!
Race of the soil, ready for conflict! race of the conquering march!
(No more credulity's race, abiding-temper'd race;)
Race henceforth owning no law but the law of itself;
Race of passion and the storm.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Spats
When young I was a Socialist
Despite my tender years;
No blessed chance I ever missed
To slam the profiteers.
Yet though a fanatic I was,
And cursed aristocrats,
The Party chucked me out because
I sported Spats.
Aye, though on soap boxes I stood,
And spouted in the parks,
They grizzled that my foot-wear would
Be disavowed my Marx.
It's buttons of a pearly sheen
Bourgois they deemed and thus
They told me; 'You must choose between
Your spats and us.'
Alas! I loved my gaitered feet
Of smoothly fitting fawn;
They were so snappy and so neat,
A gift from Uncle John
Who had a fortune in the Bank
That one day might be mine:
'Give up my spats!' said I, 'I thank
You--but resign.'
Today when red or pink I see
In stripy pants of state,
I think of how they lost in me
A demon of debate.
I muse as leaders strut about
In frock-coats and high hats . . .
The bloody party chucked me out
Because of Spats.
poem by Robert William Service
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Every Morning
every morning...he takes his off...his eyes...from their places...clumsily...lazı ly.....as he...as he leaves out..and gets out of his dreams...then he...puts on his feet...counts his arms..and if his fingers are in teir right places and complete...he places his head to its usual place...he then takes out his stomach....pours some tea in it....and silently...goes out...leaves to work...there he takes out his feet again...his fills his head with many troubles....in evening he returns home..his lonely home...then counts his broken hopes...he leaves one of his feet in the kitchen..the other on the streets....then scatters his fingers in the house...then goes....to sleep...to dreams...
poem by Metin Sahin
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Dizzy
I wanna know who you are
No more admiring you from a far
You walk by I get weak in the knees
I get next to you andi get dizzy dizzy
The way you look the way you move
Your body's telling me that I cant lose
You and me were meant to be
I get next to you and I get dizzy dizzy
My head is spinning round and round
You got me feeling like my feet arent on the ground
What is this power that you have over me
I get next to you and I get dizzy dizzy
I dont know just what to do
I've been in love but this is something new
Your the one for me its plain to see
I get next to you and I get dizzy dizzy
With my eyes open I wanna see your face
Spend all my days in your sweet embrace
Just one night with you could set me free
I get next to you and i get dizzy dizzy
You make me think of things to come
I'm dreaming that I'm making love
I dont know what you doing to me
I get next to you and i get dizzy dizzy
My head is spinning round and round
You got me feeling like my feet arent on the ground
What is this power that you have over me
I get next to you and I get dizzy dizzy
I dont know just what to do
I've been in love but this is something new
Your the one for me its plain to see
I get next to you and I get dizzy dizzy
(rap)
Hey I wanna hear you scream
Girl do you wanna get with me
Actually its plain to see
The way you move is making me dizzy
Dont know just what to do
I need some love to get me through
I'm feeling you
song performed by by 98 Degrees from Revelation
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Road Block
Yeah!, all right!
Oh, ain't no problem
Carry no heavy load
Lord, no!
Why can't i love you, baby ?
You try to block my road.
You try to block my road. hey!
Oh, better off to hand you
Everything i own, ha ha ha ha!
Strange to see you waiting for me,
You try to block my road, yeah yeah,
Try to block my road
Hey, hey, hey, hey.
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block daddy daddy daddy
Road block
Road block
Alright on the road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Yeah! road block
Road block, alright, alright, alright!
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Whoa road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Road block
Yeah!
Try to block my road, daddy daddy daddy
I said now every time i turn around
Why, try to block my road
Why did you try to hurt me try to block my road
I said all i ever wanted to do was try to block my road
N-now all i ever wanted to do was to love you try to block my road
Tell me, tell me, tell me try to block my road
Tell me, tell me, tell me now try to block my road
Waaah try to block my road
Waaah try to block my road
Try to block my road.
Ha ha!
Oh, ain't no problem
Carry no heavy load
Oh no, no!
Why can't i love you, baby ?
You try to block my road.
Hey hey, try to block my road,
Now now, try to block my road
Right, right, honey right now!
song performed by by Janis Joplin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To A Successful Man
(WHAT THE GHOSTS SAID.)
And after all the labour and the pains,
After the heaping up of gold on gold,
After success that locked your feet in chains,
And left you with a heart so tired and old,
Strange-is it not?-to find your chief desire
Is what you might have had for nothing then-
The face of love beside a cottage fire
And friendly laughter with your fellow-men?
You were so rich when fools esteemed you poor.
You ruled a field that kings could never buy:
The whisper of the sea was at your door,
And all those quiet stars were in your sky,
The nook of ferns below the breathless wood
Where one poor book could unlock Paradise. . . .
What will you give us now for that lost good?
Better forget. You cannot pay the price.
You left them for the fame in which you trust.
But youth, and hope-did you forsake them too?
Courage! When dust at length returns to dust,
In your last dreams they may come back to you.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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The pride and the vanity
Flaunt if you have it.
If you don’t, why have you it?
Pride is your opinion about yourself;
Vanity is a display
To secure others’ opinion
About you in exaltation.
If rich, be rich; it is pride.
If poor, be poor; it is pride.
The rich being humble
Itself is a vanity.
10.07.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Gypsy Lou
by Bob Dylan
If you getcha one girl, better get two
Case you run into Gypsy Lou
She's a ramblin' woman with a ramblin' mind
Always leavin' somebody behind.
Hey, 'round the bend
Gypsy Lou's gone again
Gypsy Lou's gone again.
Well, I seen the whole country through
Just to find Gypsy Lou
Seen it up, seen it down
Followin' Gypsy Lou around.
Hey, 'round the bend
Gypsy Lou's gone again
Gypsy Lou's gone again.
Well, I gotta stop and take some rest
My poor feet are second best
My poor feet are wearin' thin
Gypsy Lou's gone again.
Hey, gone again
Gypsy Lou's 'round the bend
Gypsy Lou's 'round the bend.
Well, seen her up in old Cheyenne
Turned my head and away she ran
From Denver Town to Wichita
Last I heard she's in Arkansas.
Hey, 'round the bend
Gypsy Lou's gone again
Gypsy Lou's gone again
Well, I tell you what if you what if you want to do
Tell you what, you'll wear out your shoes
If you want to wear out your shoes
Try and follow Gypsy Lou.
Hey, gone again
Gypsy Lou's 'round the bend
Gypsy Lou's 'round the bend.
Well, Gypsy Lou, I been told
Livin' down on Gallus Road
Gallus Road, Arlington
Moved away to Washington.
Hey, 'round the bend
Gypsy Lou's gone again
Gypsy Lou's gone again
Well, I went down to Washington
Then she went to Oregon
I skipped the ground and hopped a train
She's back in Gallus Road again.
Hey, I can't win
Gypsy Lou's gone again
Gypsy Lou's gone again
Well, the last I heard of Gypsy Lou
She's in a Memphis calaboose
She left one too many a boy behind
He committed suicide.
Hey, you can't win
Gypsy Lou's gone again
Gypsy Lou's gone again
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He’s Gone to England for a Wife
HE’S GONE to England for a wife
Among the ladies there;
And yet I know a lass he deemed
The rarest of the rare.
He’s gone to England for a wife;
And rich and proud is he.
But he was poor and toiled for bread
When first he courted me.
He said I was the best on earth;
He said I was “his life”;
And now he thinks of noble birth,
And seeks a lady wife!
He said for me alone he’d toil
To win an honest fame;
But now no lass on southern soil
Is worthy of his name!
I think I see his lady bride,
A fair and faultless face,
And nothing in her heart beside
The empty pride of race.
And she will grace his gilded home,
The wife his gold shall buy;
But will she ever dream of him,
Or love as well as I?
poem by Henry Lawson
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A Post-Cup Tale
I'ad the money in me 'and!
Fair dinkum! Right there, by the stand.
I tole me wife at breakfus' time,
Straight out: 'Trivalve,' I sez 'is prime.
Trivalve,' I sez. An', all the week,
I swear ther's no one 'eard me speak
Another 'orse's name. Why, look,
I 'ad the oil straight from a Book
On Sund'y at me cousin's place
When we was torkin' of the race.
'Trivalve,' 'e sez. ''Is chance is grand.'
I 'ad the money in me 'and!
Fair in me 'and I 'ad the dough!
An' then a man 'as got to go -
Wot? Tough? Look, if I 'adn't met
Jim Smith (I ain't forgave 'im yet)
'E takes an' grabs me be the coat.
'Trivalve?' 'e sez. 'Ar, turn it up!
'Ow could 'e win a flamin'Cup?'
Of course, I thort 'e muster knoo.
'Im livin' near a trainer, too.
Right 'ere, like that, fair in me fist
I 'ad the notes! An' then I missed -
Missed like a mug fair on the knock
Becos 'is maggin' done me block.
'That airy goat?' 'e sez. 'E's crook!'
Fair knocked me back, 'e did. An' look,
I 'ad the money in me 'and!
Fair in me paw! An', un'erstand,
Sixes at least I coulder got -
Thirty to five, an' made a pot.
Today I mighter been reel rich
Rollin' in dough! Instid o' which,
'Ere's me - Aw! Don't it beat the band?
I 'AD THE MONEY IN ME 'AND!
Put me clean off, that's wot 'e did…
Say, could yeh len' us 'arf a quid?
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Native American
I am native american
Ho ka hey wah nah (steven and bruce)
Ho ka hey wah nah woh
Ho ka hey wah nah
Ho ka hey wah nah woh
Ho ka hey wah nah
Ho ka hey wah nah woh
(editors note: the above is war cry of the lakota(sioux) meaning
Lets go - now)
Life was forever when we were young (steven)
The land was protected for everyone (bruce)
Forever as long as the rivers run (both)
But now the water no longer comes (steven)
And now all that remains (both)
Is darkness a poisoned earth
And now before its too late
We must provide our own new birth
Chorus:
I am native american
I am native american
The question of honor you must decide (bruce)
The soul of the nation has been denied (steven)
Our dreams have been stolen before our eyes (both)
How do you say theres no tomorrow to a child? (bruce)
>from us there is much to learn (both)
There is so much youve forgotten
You cant change me
Try and understand I am proud of who I am
Chorus:
I am native american
I am native american
We must try and remember what were here for (steven)
You will suffer the darkness alone no more (bruce)
You will have the strength of all of us
Gathered here today (both)
That is something they can never take away (bruce)
Chorus:
I am native american
I am native american
Ho ka hey wah nah (steven and bruce)
Ho ka hey wah nah woh
Repeat 7 more times til fade
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Feel Of Skin
it's nice to feel close to somebody again
to have somebody there that wants to hold your hand
to lean back your head, rest on a friendly shoulder
makes me never want to grow any older
I never knew how much I truly missed the feel of skin
missed those strong fingers, and your chest I feel is sin
even the rough squeezes on my side that make me squeal
that give me tender bruises, I still love the way you feel
poem by D.M.L. Catseye
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The Dark Master
The dark master holds my eyes open wide open
Try to block him with white mind
The dark master wins and holds my eyes wide open
The dark master to strong so I play in his world
Death ok life loss ok gain worry ok relax dark turns to grey
I am strong very strong I push him back into subconscious
The gray turns white my eyes close see him again tomorrow
poem by Bruce Meyerson
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Some People Fly
Used to be a time
We held the world.
Wrapped round our finger tips
Laughing at what others missed. someday, yesterday
The magic we felt went away.
Grow up somebody said... tell me where its gone
So I can go find it now. I cant live your way.
Go ahead without me.
Ill find my own way
Some people fly... and some of us worry about touching
The sun with wings. I know if I try Ill get where Im going,
Keeping my eyes on the sky.
The box you live within is strong and its up to you
To see beyond the comfort zone youve grown to love.
Theres more to life than that. the expectations
That you hold will keep you down and make you old
If you cant see what Im trying to say, maybe you just
Need to wear my shoes for awhile. I cant live your way.
Go ahead without me.
Ill find my own way
Some people fly...and some of us worry
Id risk it all to have wings.
I know if I try Ill get where Im going,
Keeping my eyes on the sky.
While you sit there and think about it, theres another
Unfolding their wings. I can tell you what its like, but,
Until you try, youll never see what I mean.
Some people fly...and some of us worry
Ill touch the sky with my wings.
I know if I try Ill get where Im going,
Keeping my eyes on the sky.
Keeping my eyes, keeping my eyes on the sky.
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lost For Words
Wordless I sit
I’ve lost all rhyme and rhythm,
Words I can grasp slip thru
My fingers
to fall around my feet
In jumbled order,
I want to climb
The popular ladder
Blank sheets are all I can offer.
Will the words rise off the floor
Can any expealladotious word
knock on the door?
That’s left ajar for metaphors
That may sneak in.
Nature speaks in its
Own bounty full way,
All the clock can say
Is tick tock
To seal my mental block,
Wait I think its coming back
The end of my block, yes yes,
Hickory Dickery Dock!
poem by Ken e Hall
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Mankind
As I look up to the heaven, because on earth has nothing more for me.
With bloody hands and sore feet,
To stone face and bread crumbs lips.
It this the end of mankind, or the beginning of a new race....
With vision of my guardian angles
And a bunch of other strangers......
To the evolution of creature, with shocking features...
Is this the end of mankind or the beginning of a new race....
With a high increase of prophet, predicting some crazy event..
With the corruption of human race, to some more out break of natural disasters
Is this the end of the world or the beginning of a new race....
Someone let me know..
poem by Donavan Avril
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A Tall Man
The mouth of this man is a gaunt strong mouth.
The head of this man is a gaunt strong head.
The jaws of this man are bone of the Rocky Mountains, the Appalachians.
The eyes of this man are chlorine of two sobbing oceans,
Foam, salt, green, wind, the changing unknown.
The neck of this man is pith of buffalo prairie, old longing and new beckoning of corn belt or cotton belt,
Either a proud Sequoia trunk of the wilderness
Or huddling lumber of a sawmill waiting to be a roof.
Brother mystery to man and mob mystery,
Brother cryptic to lifted cryptic hands,
He is night and abyss, he is white sky of sun, he is the head of the people.
The heart of him the red drops of the people,
The wish of him the steady gray-eagle crag-hunting flights of the people.
Humble dust of a wheel-worn road,
Slashed sod under the iron-shining plow,
These of service in him, these and many cities, many borders, many wrangles between Alaska and the Isthmus, between the Isthmus and the Horn, and east and west of Omaha, and east and west of Paris, Berlin, Petrograd.
The blood in his right wrist and the blood in his left wrist run with the right wrist wisdom of the many and the left wrist wisdom of the many.
It is the many he knows, the gaunt strong hunger of the many.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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