Busy Town
Suburban streets filled with baseball hats
People living in suburban flats
Cobweb shops filled with queues
People rushing round wearing out shoes
They are all rushing by
No one sees me cry
Car in jams at intersections
On corners people taking collections
Suburban garages filled with little cars
And people smoking big cigars
Archways hanging over loos
While cars pass in lines of twos
People pass with blind eyes
Telling stories in their sighs
Parking meters in military lines
Traffic wardens handing out fines
Suburban underground thoroughfares
Factories smoking skyward airs
Crowded corporation buses
Corner fish ‘n’ chips shops selling husses
Dozens of stuff collared shirts
Caught up in office works
Poor Porter on the trains
Trying to help passengers who complain
The busy town ignores
All who live in there
It turns its back
On old and young
And keeps its song
Hidden away and unsung
(date written unknown)
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Suburban satisfaction
Suburban satisfaction
~
A small northern town
Built on industry and mining
Slowly dying, over populated
People meander through life
Holding down jobs and family
A few dream to get away
To better the choices on offer
Others have long given up
Tired of pretending in faith
The streets littered, stand vacant
Crying out for attention
The bars crammed with locals
All looking to be entertained
To talk about the same old stories
That can be heard down the road
There are a few lights to be seen
How long will they shine
Before they succumb to expectation
And find themselves suffocating
In a small northern town
Of suburban satisfaction
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Moving Out
the lasting sound of a shrieking wind
i'm taking my time by the subway train
the ache in me from a night before
i'm taking a ride to suburban plains
i'm looking for a face to compare mine with
only to find them staring back at me
cruel is the morning that i face right now
people and they're moving out
oh my head
i'm coping with the ache
and i see
i try hard to look alive
stepping out in a distant zone
i'm taking my ride to suburban plains
i couldn't care less if i miss the train
i've never been here, but i know my way
oh my head
but i'm coping with the ache
and i see
i try hard to look alive
and i know
i've been here so many times
yes i know
i had deal just one more time
can you hear me now
and i'm always on your mind
and you know
how i've missed suburban rides
(oh yeah)
the one that i miss
the one that i miss
song performed by by Yvonne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Penny Lane
(LennonMcCartney)
In Penny Lane there is a barber showing photographs
Of every head he's had the pleasure to know
And all the people that come and go
Stop and say hello
On the corner is a banker with a motorcar
The little children laugh at him behind his back
And the banker never wears a mack
In the pouring rain, very strange
Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile back
In Penny Lane there is a fireman with an hourglass
And in his pocket is a portrait of the queen
He likes to keep his fire engine clean
It's a clean machine
Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes
A four of fish and finger pies
In summer, meanwhile back
Behind the shelter in the middle of a roundabout
The pretty nurse is selling poppies from a tray
And though she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway
In Penny Lane the barber shaves another customer
We see the banker sitting waiting for a trim
And then the fireman rushes in
From the pouring rain, very strange
Penny lane is in my ears and in my eyes
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile back
Penny lane is in my ears and in my eyes
There beneath the blue suburban skies
Penny Lane
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I wanted to improve the suburban office building; to create a great urban space in a suburban environment with all that implies about interaction, collaboration and creativity.
quote by Helmut Jahn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Church Street, Pretoria
Right down the street the traffic lights are green
and a couple of homeless men stand around a fire
in a half drum and ambulances and police cars scream
while they past rows and rows of flats for hire
and a couple of kids stand smoking at the stream
and this is reality, the heart of the city.
On the sidewalk pedestrians walk in crowds of men,
women and some children, some booted up to the knee
others with mini skirts short enough to condemn them
and my city stays lovely to me.
People queue for fried chicken, fish
and chips at shops and cafés and the smells fill my nose
and tomatoes and onions, lamb and steak are fried with a hiss
and in the traffic an angry speed-cop tries to retain his pose
when a minibus taxi almost runs him over, gives him a fright
at a flickering traffic light
and cars stream by into the coming night.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Afternoon rain
Every day this summer
in the late afternoon
the rain just keep pouring down
as if the milling clouds
and the storm has its clock set.
Thunder flashes here and there
white-blue electric bolts
from a sudden grey sky
and big and small drops fall
rushing down to the earth.
Heat rises in steaming white patches
on the hot black tar road
while the first drops make it wet
and water suddenly streams everywhere
in miniature rivers.
People run to reach their cars
and are stuck in huge traffic jams
where cars crawl meters at a time,
while others go to bars
and enjoy a drink or two
and smoke their cigars.
Two teenage girls
that are soaking wet
with T-shirts clinging translucent
dance on the sidewalk
in the falling rain
and their giggles
catches my ear
and suddenly it’s fun to live.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Sans People
Will you let me have a glimpse of people?
People on the streets? People sauntering by, people smiling.
People intending to take a right turn,
Suddenly changed the mind and took to the left.
People across the meadows,
Past the shops, cinemas, theatres, Opera houses,
People racing down, people in the cars, bus, tram, train.
How I wish to have a glimpse of them, the procession of people!
Will you let me have a glimpse of them-
Men, women and children in the houses?
Am I to live only with the fluky glimpse of a strip of cloud
Or the streak of sun, penetrating through the chinks of my window?
People, they said are barred out,
I've to live the rest of my life sans people.
poem by Taslima Nasrin
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A Ponderous Moment At Pizza Hut, Cagayan De Oro City
i am sitting in one of those commercial benches
of Pizza Hut
the glass walls divide me from the rest of this world
the sidewalk is filled with people rushing in different directions
the main road of this dusty city is filled with cars and trucks and
buses
if only i can hear their rush of horns and screeches of their rubberized wheels
i should have know better how noisy will it be
across the road is another set of people walking, rushing, running
they are all busy, and the dusts on their shoes have become too visible
like clouds of brown and gray on the surface of the pavements
and roads
inside is this peace of comfortable living
i have a plate of hot vegetable pizza, ice cold red tea,
vanilla sundae
as it is too early for the mall to open
there is only myself and the waitress who has well kept hair
a red apron as uniform and a very smiling face as mandated by the
rules of the establishment
inside the kitchen the chef is busy with his recipe and dough
i am pondering, why should people be too busy to forget about
how is it to be at peace with themselves
like having to do nothing with roads and dusts and work
i am at peace with myself, arrogating upon myself the much needed
vacation
this is my time, when i am not a part of the busy world
attached to no one, with no vested interest, no itinerary
i do not know yet what to do do really with my own spare time
how to make it productive as the Establishment would want me to do
i am at peace, and this is what i want, and this is what i mean,
Others are none of my business,
as i am too, am none to them...
sometimes i ask, why should i be busy? why should i be a part of
all these useless crowds?
i have only one life to live, and it is not that long enough for some
long range projects,
i must learn to enjoy it, to the full and so tomorrow i shall be shutting
myself off from everyone,
i am set to go in a far away island, swim on its blue sea,
rest upon its sand, bathe on the rays of the gentle sun.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Win Some Lose Some
We didnt think itd last beyond summeri met her father she met my mother
We didnt have anywhere else to goshe said to me when we grow older
Will we still need young love on our shouldersdoes it just fade away, will we ever know?
She touched my face and called me her loveri never thought that Id need another
Your cool suburban sunyoure foolin every oneyou win some you lose some
I didnt know what we had foundjust caught the bus and rode it to town
She wouldnt notice anything else but me
Your cool suburban sunyoure foolin every oneyou win some you lose some
Dancing at discos, and moaning at phone bills
Torremolinos and sun burnt in high heelsswap it and sell it and drop it and smell itall those years ago
She touched my face and called me her loveri never thought that Id need another
Your cool suburban sunyoure foolin every oneyou win some you lose some
Your cool suburban sunyoure foolin every oneyou win some you lose some
Now its gone, now its gone,you win some, you lose some
Now its gone, now its gone,you win some, you lose some
Now its gone, now its gone,you win some, you lose some
Now its gone, now its gone,you win some, you lose some
Win some
song performed by by Robbie Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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English Roundabout
(colin moulding)
People rushing round with no time to spare.
Im so dizzy,
Im neither here nor there.
In this traffic jam,
I just want to shout,
Let me off o this english roundabout
English roundabout
And all the the horns go beep! beep!
All the people follow like sheep,
Im full of light and sound,
Making my head go round, round.
Everyone is cursing under their breath,
Im a passenger,
I feel close to death,
Hopeless situation,
I have no doubt.
Stop the madness, english roundabout
English roundabout
And all the cars go brum! brum!
And in my ears I feel a hum,
The neons blind my eyes,
All those tempers rise, rise.
Cars and buses go,
Puffing out their smoke,
Roll my window down,
I begin to choke.
I have had enough,
I just want to get out.
Let me off o this english roundabout.
English roundabout.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Johannesburg
There are mini-bus taxis everywhere
hooting, swerving, stopping anywhere
and people on the street
shouting to each other
as if they are not
in talking distance,
but as if everybody is deaf.
Some hawkers are selling
sweets, cigarettes and newspapers
while others are cooking maize,
porridge and eggs.
Youngsters stand next to
parking meters showing
open parking spaces
and demanding money
to watch vehicles parked there.
Some hobos sleep
in tattered blankets
and smell of wine
and liquor and the sick
sweet odour or retching.
Prostitutes walk up and down
street corners in mini skirts
and t-shirts
with nipples showing through
and have hello smiles
plastered across their faces.
Some gum sniffing children
beg at traffic lights
with twisted arms and legs
and other beggars
have posters wishing you well
or telling you to go to hell.
People queue in lines
waiting for busses
and some stand smoking
while they talk
and businessmen, lawyers,
soldiers, secretaries
are walking quickly past
with briefcases, satchels,
and handbags
and on the sidewalk
there is urine,
blood, vomit, some rotting food
and smoked cigarettes
and everywhere signs
of a city in a country
that is falling apart.
poem by Gert Strydom
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House of Flesh
Crooked,
decrepit windows
see the world in shades of grime.
This lonely house sreaks
and groans in the rain.
Tattered
mother-eaten drapes
cover the hurt of abandonment.
People pass by
and talk cheerfully
of their own inhabited homes,
graced by the presence of a loving owner.
They are filled,
overflowing,
with friendly masses.
They are filled with people
who look in pity and distain
at this crumbling house on the corner.
These bodies pass by
with not a thought to this sad house,
all alone
begging for someone to pass it's threshhold,
to care.
Poor abandoned house on the corner,
quietly falling to pieces as the seasons pass.
No one wants you.
poem by Meggan McGuire
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Everything Will Flow
[VERSE1:]
Watch the early morning sun
Drip like blood from the day
See the crazy people run
So many games to play
See the blue suburban dream
Under the jet plane sky
Sleep away and dream a dream
Life is just a lullaby
[CHORUS:]
Ah Ah Ah
And everything will flow
[VERSE2:]
Watch the day begin again
Whispering into the night
See the crazy people play
Hurrying under the light
A million cars
song performed by by Suede from Head Music
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Too Many People
Too many people going underground
Too many reaching for a piece of cake
Too many people pulled and pushed around
Too many waiting for that lucky break
That was your first mistake
You took your lucky break and broke it in two
Now what can be done for you
You broke it in two
Too many people sharing party lines
Too many people never sleeping late
Too many people paying parking fines
Too many hungry people losing weight
That was your first mistake
You took your lucky break and broke it in two
Now what can be done for you
You broke it in two
Too many people breaching practices
Dont let them tell you what you wanna be
Too many people holding back, this is
Crazy and maybe its not like me
That was your last mistake
I find my love awake and waiting to be
Now what can be done for you
Shes waiting for me
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There are people
There are people
that claims the street as their own
and stand
at parking places on the sidewalk
and do no work
but to look after cars.
If you park there
and ignore them
and do not
want to use their services
you immediately
become a racist in their eyes
and they will make a scene,
threaten to damage your car,
or make sure that it’s stolen
or so they tell you
since they believe
that you owe them something.
Some spray soapy water
without invitation
on the front window
of your car
when you stop
at a traffic light
and wipe it off
demanding a price.
I wonder why the education
is still lacking
since they have already
got their liberation
and just as odd
these people are ignored
by their compatriots in government
as if they do not exist,
while the country
falls slowly
but surely to pieces.
There are people
that claims the possessions
of others as their own
and at night
prowl around in the streets
shooting, stabbing
and robbing
and estranging people
from their cars.
l’Envoi
Still I wonder where
the problem lies
and would really like
both of my cars back
and I do not know
about white people
that sneak around
in black neighbourhoods at night,
hijack cars,
brake windows
and demand possessions
with loaded guns.
All that they do,
is try to make a living
or hurry away in their leaving.
{Reference: “First liberation, then education.” Political slogan of the ruling party.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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I have always loved to sit in ferry and railroad stations and watch the people, to walk on crowded streets, just walk along among the people, and see their faces, to be among people on street cars and trains and boats.
quote by Ella R. Bloor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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People Everywhere
People, people everywhere.
The ones you know.
The ones you don’t.
Most blend in a way,
You cannot comprehend.
People, people everywhere.
There are so many out there.
Most pass by your life,
Without knowing your name.
But some, some are different.
People, people everywhere.
Touching your heart,
In a way no ones else can.
Love, fear, hate, pain, joy,
They all come from,
People, people everywhere.
Where do they go when they leave?
Back to a home or cave?
Maybe to pass by your eyes again.
One day, maybe they can stay.
But for now it’s lonely,
For now it hurts,
When you are alone.
When there is no,
People, people everywhere.
poem by Megan Reily
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Other People Are Us
By umberto tozzi
As sung by howard jones
Ive never been more lonely.
The night is closing in.
I wish for monday morning and the people of the town to heal me,
Opening themselves
Like flowers to a cruel sun.
Going thru the motions
With no chance to show their deep emotion.
Chorus
When they sing and cry
When they live and die
Cant we see other people, those people are us
Angels live inside
Vultures try to hide
In the mirrors we see other people are us
The walls are falling down with the breath of an idea.
See allah in the church and jesus in the mosque.
Our world is turning.
Heros leave behind miles (minds? ) of prejudice.
Cowards try to hold the easiness of our division.
Chorus
As the swallows fly thru leaves of africa
Do they cry as they witness our tears?
Will the hands of needs become the hand of greed?
There will be a time when those people are us.
Chorus x2
Living in the world of isolation
Of comfort and tranquility
But sooner or later in this whole world, those people are us
Chorus
Yes, we are all the same
The nations of the world
Young ones trapped by chemicals, no hope to carry on
The working families
Replaced by metal men
Travelers from the east in their suburban reservations
We are the victims
Of the ruling hands
There will come a time when those people are us
Chorus
song performed by by Howard Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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People In the City
… people eat junk food and curry
because they are always in a hurry
… people collide into each other
without saying sorry
… people talk on mobile phones
in high pitch tones
… people hardly ever smile
because they are paranoid or shy
… people suffer from obesity
because they drive everywhere
… people inhale polluted air
because of fumes in the atmosphere
… people litter the streets
because the penalty fines are too cheap
… people commit crimes in the streets
because there aren’t enough cops on the beat
… people are always late
because the railway tracks are out of date
… people live on credit
because they pay bills by direct debit
… people are unable to relax
because they pay high income tax
… people suffer from stress
because they never rest
poem by Margaret Aberdeen
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Short Peoople
Short People got no reason
Short People got no reason
Short People got no reason
To live
They got little hands
And little eyes
And they walk around
Tellin' great big lies
They got little noses
And tiny little teeth
They wear platform shoes
On their nasty little fett
Well I don't want no Short People
Don't want no Short People
Don't want no Short People
Round here
Short People are just the same
As you and I
(A Fool Such As I)
All men are brothers
Until the day they die
(It's A Wonderful World)
Short People got nobody
Short People got nobody
Short People got nobody
To love
They got little baby legs
And they stand so low
You got to pick 'em up
Just to say hello
They got little cars
That got beep, beep, beep
They got little voices
Goin' peep, peep, peep
They got grubby little fingers
And dirty little minds
They're gonna get you every time
Well, I don't want no Short People
Don't want no Short People
Don't want no Short People
'Round here
song performed by by Randy Newman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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