The place I had lived we had Croatians to our right, Turks to the left and Russians across the street, as well as Greeks, Lebanese - you name it. I reflect on it now and realise how privileged I was. I appreciate it more and more as the years go by.
quote by Marton Csokas
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Related quotes
The Knife is stolen
To love your heart, anyone can do
But to live in it, only the fortunate can.
To pay attention, every one likes
But to get in return, only the gifted can.
To tell you one’s mind, each one get tempted
But only the privileged can dare, of whom
The one who is acknowledged by you is the most privileged.
I found that I am the most privileged.
Rubber grows six years to tap.
The relation took six years to ripe.
But my parting deserts the tapping.
24.06.2000, Palakkad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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God Bless All
God bless
the Polish of Chicago
the Puerto Ricans of the Bronx
the Serbians of Cleveland
the Cubans of Miami
the Mexicans of Phoenix
the Lebanese of Detroit
the Irish of Boston
the English of Charleston
the Asian Indians of Washington
the Palestinians of Toledo
the Chinese of San Francisco
the Syrians of Dearborn
the Czechs of Stamford
the Japanese of Hawaii
the Scotch of Burlington
the French Canadians of Portland
the Native Americans everywhere
the Swedes of Minneapolis
the Norwegians of Pierre
the Spanish of Tampa
the Germans of Cincinnati
the Haitians of Baltimore
the Jews of Brooklyn
the Jamaicans of New Orleans
the Vietnamese of Arlington
the Portuguese of Providence
the Italians of Philadelphia
the Russians of Seattle
the Guatemalans of San Antonio
the Koreans of Denver
the Greeks of Stamford
the Nigerians of Queens
the Turks of Los Angeles
the Iranians of Philadelphia
the Afghans of San Jose
the Somalians of Columbus
God bless the bees
who take the nectar, fragrance
and pollen of each country's
flowers without harming
any bloom..
================================
People of the world, we want you to know we are not the regime
which occupies us. We ask that you join us in prayers to God for an
end now to the violent and illegal wars, the theft from the poor, the rape
of Mother Earth, the mass slaughter of people and animals
perpetrated by our occupiers.
poem by Saiom Shriver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Respectable Street
Heard the neighbour slam his car door,
Don't he realise this is respectable street?
What d'you think he bought that car for?
'cause he realise this is respectable street
Now they talk about absorption,
In cosmopolitan proportions to their daughters,
As they speak of child prevention,
And immaculate receptions on their portable,
Sony entertainment centres.
Heard the neighbour slam his car door,
Don't he realise this is respectable street?
What d'you think he bought that car for?
'cause he realise this is respectable street
Now she speak about diseases,
And which proposition pleases best her old man,
Avon lady fills the creases,
When she manages to squeeze in past the caravans,
That never move from their front gardens.
It's in the order of their hedgerows,
It's in the way their curtains open and close,
It's in the look they give you down their nose,
All part of decency's jigsaw i suppose.
Sunday church and they look fetching,
Saturday night saw him stretching over our fence,
Bang the wall for me to turn down,
I can see them with their stern frown,
As they dispense the kind of look that says they're perfect.
Heard the neighbour slam his car door,
Don't he realise this is respectable street?
What d'you think he bought that car for?
'cause he realise this is respectable street
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Greeks Don't Want No Freaks
There was beer all over the dance floor
and the band was playin' rhythm and blues
You got down and did the gator, and half
an hour later, you were barfin' all over your
Girlfriend's shoes.
But the Greeks don't want no freaks.
The Greeks don't want no freaks
Just put a little smile on them rosy
cheeks,
'Cause the Greeks don't want no freaks.
(GATOR!!)
She was the pride and the passion of Dixie
She did exactly what her daddy had planned.
She was perfect little sister until somebody missed
her and they found her in the bushes with
the boys in the band
But the Greeks don't want no freaks
The Greeks don't want no freaks
So put a great big smile on them rosy cheeks,
'Cause the Greeks don't want no freaks
No, the Greeks don't want no freaks
Said, the Greeks don't want no freaks
Just put that monster smile on them rosy cheeks
'Cause the Greeks don't want no freaks
No, the Greeks don't want no freaks,
Ahh...
song performed by by Eagles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The privilege
If you can thrill, its your own will,
I can't say whether it pleases me.
Yes, I'm privileged to this city up till,
but, this way ahead lil decreases me.
I'm restless for those things hidden,
that's discovered all aloof.
Wherever, which way, what city I'm in,
something happens a goof.
I feel sometimes brain, barren I till,
and being in the world this life teases me...
Yes, I'm privileged to this city up till,
but, this way ahead lil decreases me.
Bunch of years my life has lived,
risen I have from unknown streets.
Among the crowd why I'm timid,
when tides are hounding all fleets.
I wait for such a living skill,
that courage of death ceases me,
Yes, I'm privileged to this city up till,
but, this way ahead lil decreases me.
29/05/02
poem by by unknown author
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Greeks Dont Want No Freaks
There was beer all over the dance floor
And the band was playin rhythm and blues
You got down and did the gator, and half
An hour later, you were barfin all over your
Girlfriends shoes.
But the greeks dont want no freaks.
The greeks dont want no freaks
Just put a little smile on them rosy
Cheeks,
cause the greeks dont want no freaks.
(gator!!)
She was the pride and the passion of dixie
She did exactly what her daddy had planned.
She was perfect little sister until somebody missed
Her and they found her in the bushes with
The boys in the band
But the greeks dont want no freaks
The greeks dont want no freaks
So put a great big smile on them rosy cheeks,
cause the greeks dont want no freaks
No, the greeks dont want no freaks
Said, the greeks dont want no freaks
Just put that monster smile on them rosy cheeks
cause the greeks dont want no freaks
No, the greeks dont want no freaks,
Ahh...
song performed by by Eagles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Julian at the Mysteries
But when he found himself in darkness,
in the earth's awful depths,
with a group of unholy Greeks,
and bodiless figures appeared before him
with haloes of light,
the young Julian for a moment lost his nerve:
an impulse from his pious years came back
and he crossed himself.
The Figures vanished at once;
the haloes faded away, the lights went out.
The Greeks glanced at each other.
The young man said: 'Did you see the miracle?
I'm frightened, friends. I want to leave.
Didn't you see how the demons vanished
the second they saw me make the holy sign of the cross?'
The Greeks chuckled scornfully:
'Shame on you, shame, to talk that way
to us sophists and philosophers!
If you want to say things like that,
say them to the Bishop of Nicomedia and his priests.
The greatest gods of our glorious Greece
appeared before you.
And if they left, don't think for a minute
that they were frightened by a gesture.
It was just that when they saw you
making that vile, that crude sign,
their noble nature was disgusted
and they left you in contempt.'
This is what they said to him, and the fool
recovered from his holy, blessed fear,
convinced by the unholy words of the Greeks.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lonely Street
Sometimes when I'm walking down this lonely street,
Well, it sure don't seem like twenty years,
Since I went walking down this lonely street
And the smell of perfumed ladies filled the air
This street ain't got no name, dead end is in the river,
And I lived where I hated life day by day,
There wasn't nothing I could do to shake a cold night shiver,
'Cause to move up Lonely Street you had to have some say
Gambling is bad luck down on Lonely Street
And it sure ain't no place to be when a man gets sore
You know I killed a man and I paid all I can,
With twenty years on a chain gang,
For the flesh and the blood on that jailhouse floor
Sometimes when I'm walking down this lonely street
I get caught up in a dream that won't let me go
And as the bright lights flash up and down this lonely street
My mind rolls back the years long time ago
I see my baby stumblin' around with tears in her eyes
And as I reach out for her she falls on the floor
She mumbles through bloody lips about a bad man, robber, raper,
And in my gut I know I got one to score
The word was comin' down, down on Lonely Street
That the bad man was a dead man if he crossed my trail
Every night I'd walk up and down this Lonely Street
I get stinkin' drunk, and always in jail,
One night they threw me in with a man they called the mangler
He was caught on the street makin' some old whore,
I remember he was quite proud of that,
So half-crazed I shot him,
And I cried in the blood on that jailhouse floor
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Home:
Home…
Home is where you were born.
Home is where you were raised,
Home is were you grew up,
Home was what had shaped you,
Home is what gave you your foundation
And what help you grow into something amazing,
Home is what you left behind to become something bigger,
Home is what you remember many years after leaving,
Home is what you become missing for,
Home is where you crave to be when you're done with you adventures,
Even thought you left home, for another place,
Home has never left,
It's still there,
On the same old street,
With the same old lawn,
With the same old people,
Just waiting there,
For you and only you,
It is there for you and only you,
Because with out it,
Without a home,
You wouldn't have a place to go back to,
A place was you can call your own..well, home...
poem by Sherry Painter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I wanted to look at the upper-middle-class scene since the war, and in particular my generation's part in it. We had spent our early years as privileged members of a privileged class. How were we faring in the Age of the Common Man? How ought we to be faring?
quote by Simon Raven
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reunion is uncertain
If you left a place you had lived,
It’d be there for you to find at will.
If you left one you lived with
You might not see the one at will again.
Each one floats, hardly ever to meet
15.07.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let Me Cry
Sunday night
I was riding on the a train
Reading the newspaper
A woman was trying to convince a man
That she hadnt done it
All these years
I havent seen you
Love is still the same
Now you must believe me
Now I play no game
I know I loved you
When I left you
Couldnt tell you why
Too sad today
Too sad for tears
Let me cry
You only just caught that train
Breathless
And then, you smiled at me
We left, on canal street, and uh...
Had a drink at...
Remember the name of the place?
All these years
I havent seen you
Love is still the same
Now you must believe me
Now I play no games
I know I loved you
When I left you
Couldnt tell you why
Too sad today
Too sad for tears
Let me cry
Yes, I do remember
The name of the place
Three roses
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let Me Cry
Sunday night
I was riding on the a train
Reading the newspaper
A woman was trying to convince a man
That she hadnt done it
All these years
I havent seen you
Love is still the same
Now you must believe me
Now I play no game
I know I loved you
When I left you
Couldnt tell you why
Too sad today
Too sad for tears
Let me cry
You only just caught that train
Breathless
And then, you smiled at me
We left, on canal street, and uh...
Had a drink at...
Remember the name of the place?
All these years
I havent seen you
Love is still the same
Now you must believe me
Now I play no games
I know I loved you
When I left you
Couldnt tell you why
Too sad today
Too sad for tears
Let me cry
Yes, I do remember
The name of the place
Three roses
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is the peculiarity of privilege and of every privileged position to kill the intellect and heart of man. The privileged man, whether he be privileged politically or economically, is a man depraved in intellect and heart.
quote by Mikhail Bakunin
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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When a peace agreement is concluded between the Lebanese government and Israel, we would surely disagree with the Lebanese government about that, but we would not make any turmoil out of it.
quote by Hassan Nasrallah
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All The Time In The World
All God's secrets to unravel,
That was his holy quest...
First the secret of time travel,
Would make folks most impressed.
The scientist spent many years,
Inventing wondrous things
And he got praise from all his peers
And, oh, what joy that brings...
Time travel was a hidden truth
Within God's precious plan...
The scientist misspent his youth,
Such is the plight of Man....
But suddenly the truth was known!
He knew it could be done!
As if by God it had been shown,
Energy from the Sun!
And so the man looked at the sky
To see the Sun above,
Considered all that energy
And knew it was enough!
When NASA heard his plan unfold,
They sent him on his way!
But Russian spies were very bold
And kidnapped him that day!
The Russians interviewed him soon,
Gave everything he'd need...
At first, they flew him to the moon
To help him to succeed...
The spaceship left the moon and went
Towards the Sun that shone,
As if the Russians were Hell-bent,
As they for months were gone...
Then suddenly the past was changed!
New timelines were enforced!
A billion human lives were changed
With energy they sourced...
Success at last, yet at a price!
The scientist was thrilled,
Yet then there was a sacrifice...
The scientist was killed...
The Russians kept the secret hid
Until I found it out!
And when they learnt the things I did,
They chased me all about!
That's why through time I travelled back!
You'll never guess to when!
But now they call me Captain Jack!
The man who lived again!
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2011.
The poem is based on Captain Jack Harkness,
the heroic Dr Who and Torchwood character,
a time traveller who can die... yet live again...
en.wikipedia-dot-org/wiki/Jack_Ha rkness
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The best thing we can do if we want the Russians to let us be Americans is to let the Russians be Russian.
quote by George Frost Kennan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Departing In A Well Of Tears
tears do not reflect the years
a great love broken by death
is a flood that tears landscape
inflicting mortal wounds years
cannot erase to restore lost love
tears do not reflect the years
an abusive love is better lost
heart chokes on dessert dust
soul can not swallow coarse
sand grating on afflicted soul
tears do not reflect the years
yet a well of tears shed rapid
leaves body dehydrated husk
lifeless an empty broken well
yet well of tears drowns lives
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Street Fighting Man
Everywhere I hear the sound of marching, charging feet, boy
cause summers here and the time is right for fighting in the street, boy
Tell me what can a poor boy do
cept for sing for a rock n roll band
cause in this sleepy l.a. town
Theres just no place for a street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
Do you think the time is right for a palace revolution
Where I live the game to play is compromise solution
Well then what can a poor boy
cept for sing for a rock n roll band
cause in this sleepy l.a. town
Theres just no place for a street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
Well what else can a poor boy do?
Well what else can a poor boy do?
Well what else can a poor boy do?
Well what else can a poor boy do?
Hey my name is called disturbance
Ill shout and scream, Ill kill the king, Ill rail at all his servants
Well what can a poor boy do
For sing for a rock n roll band
In this sleepy l.a. town
Theres just no place for
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
For a street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
A street fighting man
song performed by by Rage Against The Machine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Awful God
Richard Bryce was a mystery,
He lived on a back street lot,
The house was the old half-timbered sort,
Paint peeled on the old wainscot,
The blinds were drawn through the day and night
And the garden a neighbourhood moan,
Full of the bodies of rusting cars
And creepers, all overgrown.
We rarely saw him out in the street
But he'd peep from the side of blinds,
And stories were told in the neighbourhood
That were often more harsh than kind,
There'd been a wife and a daughter once
But they hadn't been seen in years,
Since the echoing raft of arguments,
Doors slammed, and a flood of tears.
Old Grandpa Bryce had lived in the house
Since thirty odd years before,
He'd worked in the woollen fulling mill
‘Til it closed, just after the War,
His son had drowned in the old mill stream,
Was caught in the paddle wheel,
And Grandpa Bryce was left with the child,
To raise, and be brought to heel.
For Grandpa Bryce was a steely man
Who lived his life by the book,
More like a Prophet, this Abraham
Believed, whatever it took,
That ‘spare the rod and spoil the child'
Would be how that his Grandson learned,
As he laid the rod across Richard's back
‘Til the flesh turned red, and burned.
There was never a ministering angel there
To offer the boy relief,
Only the hard-edged wooden pew
In the church, on a Sunday eve,
And Abraham led the final prayer
In a voice that would damn and blight,
‘Beware you sinners, the Awful God
Will come unseen in the night! '
Richard's mother had died in pain
In the blood of the afterbirth,
She never returned to her home again
But was placed, six foot in the earth,
He never knew of a mother's love,
But only a Grandpa's pain,
And Bryce had ruled the daughter and wife
‘Til they fled one night, in the rain.
The house was suddenly silent then
Just two of them, left alone,
Grandpa suddenly old and frail,
He never went out on his own,
And Richard boarded the windows up
So you couldn't see in from the street,
It looked like an old abandoned place
‘Til the police called round, last week.
We all stood out in the street and watched
As Richard came out of the house,
His hands were cuffed and his hair stood up
And he looked quite down in the mouth,
There must have been twenty cops in there,
All milling around the place,
And one threw up in a paper cup
As we strained to look at his face.
It all came out in a day or two
Just what they had found in there,
The place was sparse, but a giant cross
Stood gaunt in the putrid air,
The skeleton of old Grandpa Bryce
Had been crucified, up tight,
And nailed to his skull: ‘The Awful God
Will come unseen in the night! '
16 September 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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