Doing Without
's an interesting
custom, involving such in-
visible items as the food
that's not on the table, the clothes
that are not on the back
the radio whose music
is silence. Doing without
is a great protector of reputations
since all places on cannot go
are fabulous, and only the rare and
enlightened plowman in his field
or on his mountain does not overrate
what he does not or cannot have.
Saluting through their windows
of cathedral glass those restaurants
we must not enter (unless like
burglars we become subject to
arrest) we greet with our twinkling
eyes the faces of others who do
without, the lady with the
fishing pole, and the man who looks
amused to have discovered on a walk
another piece of firewood.
Related quotes
If I Could
If I could make my living going fishing
Then I would make my living with a line and pole
Put food on the table pay the money to the landlord
Buy some working clothes
Cause I aint making money going fishing like Im paid at the factory
If I could pay all these bills with my guitar
Then I would pay these bills with some rock and roll
Put food on the table pay the money to the landlord
Buy some working clothes
Cause I aint making money playing guitar like Im paid at the factory
Chorus:
Now if I could (if I could)
Then I would (then I would)
Make money doing something that I love
Id thank my lucky stars above
If I could just get by loving you dear
Then I would just get by making love to you
Put food on the table pay the money to the landlord
Buy some working clothes
Cause I aint making money making love
Like Im paid at the factory
Repeat chorus:
If I could make my living going fishing
Then I would make my living with a line and pole
Put food on the table pay the money to the landlord
Buy some working clothes
Cause I aint making money going fishing
Like Im paid at the factory
Repeat chorus:
If I could just get by loving you dear
Then I would just get by making love to you
Put food on the table pay the money to the landlord
Buy some working clothes
Cause I aint making money making love
Like Im paid at the factory
Put food on the table pay the money to the landlord
Buy some working clothes
Cause I aint making money making love
Like Im paid at the factory
Put food on the table pay the money to the landlord
Buy some working clothes
Cause I aint making money making love
Like Im paid at the factory
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dinner Thoughts
In the kitchen all the pots and pans
are steaming The roast is in the oven there is
no time for dreaming Fresh vegetables are
cleaned and potatoes peeled Salad is
prepared with onions straight from the field
The table is set with white dishes and
beautiful glass Every place setting is styled
with sophisticated class The wine is chilled
and desserts promise to be sweet Everything
is perfect with lots of excess but discreet
One of the seats is occupied by a man
with long hair His clothing is old and torn and
in dire need of repair The woman on the bench
silently weeps over the food Because she is
happy that she is no subject to extrude
Two little boys with smudges of dirt
on their faces With mom and dad they have
lived in many places The old lady from down
the street offers a grin While I turn on
some music to let the feast begin
Well - that is what could be but instead
I eat alone I am wondering why because
I have room in my home Life could be more
fulfilling if I would take a stand But I
continue to hide when I should extend a hand
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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Joe Fabulous
don't play my music on mtv
play it on the radio
we are the street kings and we don't care
yeah we really don't wanna know
i'm joe fabulous
life is my school
joe fabulous
and we are the merchants of cool
we do our thing
we believe in no sin
we are beyond your control
if you look closely
you'll find that were mostly
machines looking for a soul
im joe fabulous
life is my school
the next joe fabulous
and we are the merchants of cool
we aim to analyze
everything you say and do
so we can sell it back to you
joe fabulous
life is my school
joe fabulous
and we are the merchants of cool
there are no nations
just large corporations
flying the flag of the day
from dawn of creation
to civilisation
please don't take my music away
joe fabulous
life is my school
joe fabulous
play by my rules
joe fabulous
and we are the merchants of cool
thats all
bye bye everybody
bye bye
song performed by by Bad Company
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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But you can make good radio, interesting radio, great radio even, without an urgent question, a burning issue at stake.
Your Fishing Pole
There is something about you, something in your soul
something that seems to surround your fishing pole….
You moved to the coast, now that’s no lie
And we had a hard time with that little goodbye
But no need for heartache, no need to console
You had your boat and your fishing pole.
You know everyday you go out to fish
it’s like a genie granting every little wish
every time that bobber goes out of control
we know you are happy with your fishing pole.
Now on birthdays it’s special out on the water
I hear if you’re there, they’ll jump for the slaughter
You’ll be piling them in like your lucks on a roll
Reeling them in with your fishing pole
So today of all days take heed and relax
Pack up a cooler with drinks and some snacks
put on your shoes and go take a stroll
Down to your boat with your fishing pole.
poem by Kathleen J. Shields
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Path Of Mirrors
They walk so close to you, yet so far away
Their eyes are lost, their faces fixed like stone
They walk behind the mirrors and here they shall stay
You walk with other souls liveng, breathing, yet for them they are alone
You walk through the hall way down the path of glass
You watch as they walk on into eternity, into the dark
They walk there behind the glass,
People around you going through leaving their mark.
They walk past your reflection as if you never saw
They walk through time as if time weren’t there
They know you would never aproach them
They know you would never dare.
They walk through the glass and look straight ahead,
They know nothing lies ahead, yet they know they can not turn back,
So they walk into nothing instead,
Passing you so all you see is their back.
You pause infront of the glass looking looking past,
You know that you shall not join them you know it is not your fate
You think about the footsteps you take, wondering which shall be your last,
You walk on again only thinking of their fate
Their faces emotionless the souls so cold,
You think of how you own skin feels, so warm,
You watch as the move like action figures made from a mold,
All the same, all waiting out the storm
The storm of life, the storm of death,
You walk along side them as they walk past everyone,
They watch ahead never turning, never looking above,
They turn to noone.
You walk along beside them as they take no notice to lifes dance,
They only walk past, walk through the mirrors of fate,
Kepping one great stance,
You watch people finding their fate.
Their faces so still, alone in the world, without hope
You watch them walk on, you watch them pass
You see their unmoving faces, as they walk up the endless slope
They walk along, behind the glass.
You turn to watch as their souls move on,
You reach out your hand to touch the glass,
Only to feel the glass is gone,
You watch as your hand passes through the glass.
As you hand melts through one by one the spirits turn,
One takes your hand and pulls your arm through,
More spirits feel your presence and more turn,
They watch as you melt through.
You watch your world leave as you leave it,
You have found you fate and not you are here along with them,
They walk on as you pull your body through, leaving behind the sweater of life you knit,
You have come and joined them.
You look back at the mirror to look at your face,
And you see your eyes becoming lost,
As you enter their race,
The race that shall never end, the race through eternity, for now you are lost
You skin feels so cold you face feels so hard,
You walk with them, as one
As you emotions turn hard,
In true time you are done.
You walk with them, walk alone
They walk so close to you, yet so far away
As everything becomes an endless drone,
For now you are here to stay.
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Steamy Windows
(tony joe white)
Well I was thinkin bout parking the other night
We was out on a back road
Me and my lady was just gettin right
All systems on overload
Radio blasting in the front seat
Turnin out the music fine
We were snuggled up in the back seat
Makin up for lost time
Steamy windows
Zero visiblity
Steamy windows
Comin from the body heat
You can wine and dine a lady all night
With good intent
But theres something about a rendezvous on a back road
That gets mighty intense
Steamy windows
Aint nobody can see
Steamy windows
Comin from the body heat
Theres a sound outside the front door
And I know its just the wind
But it makes us wanna snuggle just a little bit closer
And it starts all over again
Steamy windows
Zero visiblity
Steamy windows
Comin from the body heat
Steamy windows
Zero visiblity
Steamy windows
Comin from the body heat
Steamy windows...
Steamy windows
Comin from the body heat
Aint nobody can see...
song performed by by Kenny Chesney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Renda Writer - The Other Line
I saw a man
Fishing
Off the side of the pier
Fishing for a fish
And then...
His cell phone rang
He picked it up
And began talking
Cell phone in one hand
Fishing pole in the other
And then...
The tip of his pole
Started bending
He got a bite
And then...
He said
To the person on the phone
'Let me call you back,
I've got someone on the other line'
poem by Renda Writer
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But when researchers at Bell Labs discovered that static tends to come from particular places in the sky, the whole field of radio astronomy opened up.
quote by Murray Gell Mann
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Now the restaurants have begun to catch up with the wine-making; there are numerous great restaurants in Napa Valley, and it's wonderful because the people are there for just that: great food and great wine.
quote by Thomas Keller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Am Radio
The VCR and the DVD
There wasn't none of that crap
Back in 1970
We didn't know about
A world wide web
It was a whole different game being played
Back when I was a kid
You wanna get down
In a cool way?
Just picture yourself on a beautiful day
With the big bell bottoms
And groovy long hair
Justa walking in style
With a portable CD player
No
No...you would listen
To the music on
The AM radio
Yeah...you could hear the music
The AM radio
Flashback to '72
Another summer in the neighborhood
Hanging out with nothing to do
Sometimes
We'd go driving around
In my sister's Pinto
Cruisin' with the windows rolled down
We'd listen to the radio station
We were too damn poor
To buy the 8 track tapes
There wasn't any good time
To want to be inside
My mom would want to watch that TV all night
I'd be in bed with the radio on
I would listen to it all night long
Just to hear my favorite song
You'd have to wait
But you could hear it
On the AM radio
Yeah...you could hear the music
On the AM radio
I can still hear mama say
"Boy...Turn that radio down!"
Things changed back in '75
We were all growing up
On the in
And the outside
We got in trouble with the police man
We got busted
Getting high
In the back of my friend's van
I remember 1977
I started going to concerts
And I saw the Led Zeppelin
I got a guitar
On a Christmas day
I dreamed that Jimmy Page
Would come to Santa Monica
And teach me to play
There isn't any other place that I need to go
There isn't anything that I need to know
That I did not learn from the radio
Yeah when things get stupid
And I just don't know
Where to find my happy
I listen to the music
From the AM radio
(You could hear the music
On the AM radio)
(You could hear the music
On the AM radio)
I like pop and I like soul
I like rock
But I never liked disco
(On the AM radio)
We like pop...We like soul
We like to rock
But we never liked disco
(On the AM radio)
I never liked disco...no I never liked disco
song performed by by Everclear
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tiny ants we are, but our souls with yours at par
It was our routine
We move around in batches
Locate places from where
We can collect food items
Our food habits are simple
We do not need to cook
As we eat raw
We do not add spices to our food
We also do not mix food items
We are satisfied with one item
And we eat it stomachful in one go
And very importantly
We eat only when hungry
No in-between in takes
We walk, walk and only walk
We do not use any vehicle
Our tribe is known for
Organized non stop working
Recently we were in a marriage hall
We were busy material handling
And the foot item we were shifting
Was a ready-to-eat item
And we would keep it stored
In our safe custody
For consumption later on rainy days
Everything went as planned
We were almost moved all we wanted to move
The last batch of our ten people
Were moving fast through a foot path
And before they could cross
A large footed man stamped on them
And all the entire batch of ten crushed to death
We all witnessed in sorrow
The demise of our people
For no fault of theirs
"We, tiny ants cannot do anything about this.
Once I witnessed hundreds of our men
Got drowned in milk when the pot containing it
Just titled and got emptied"
A senior citizen in our group lamented
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Can You Share a Piece of my Dream?
All my dreams every night
Take me far away.
But all those dreams are never right.
There's not a place I can stay.
‘Cause where I am right next to you
is the place where I belong
and in all those dreams I have at night,
to me everything's wrong.
*** So can you share a piece of my dream?
Can you come with me?
I'd look forward to falling asleep
for I know there'd be
No black and white dreams
with no moonbeams,
No colorless places
with all the wrong faces.
‘Cause if you share a piece of my dream
your face is the only thing I'll see.
So come along and enter my dreams.
There are so many places to see.
And every place we travel to
we'll remember and I'll know
that wherever I am, asleep or awake
everything is right.
So can you share a piece of my dream
when I fall asleep tonight?
REPEAT ***
Words and Music by
EDWINA REIZER
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Passion's Pride
Alone.........I sit
By the fishing hole
Didn't bring don't need
...No fishing pole
Just want to catch
A breath of air
..And reconcile
Distraught..despair
..For in my slumber
Though wide awake
Passion's pride
Fueled my mistake
..And now..so alone am I
By the fishing hole
Didn't bring..don't need
...No fishing pole
Author's note:
.....Just the way life is.........sometimes.....
poem by James B. Earley
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Journey From Small Place
I make a journey in a paper
A contemplation ink in white field
I make a journey inside the book
Traveling my imagination in the word ocean
I make a journey under the table
A furious food battle on the ground
I make a journey on top of the roof
Transforming myself among the cloud in the sky
I make a journey outside the glass
A different possibility faces on the transparent canvas
I make a journey at the bridge
Clearing the dark shadow with the water current
I make a journey above the tree
An adventure child who never stop to grow
I make a journey over my pillow
Bringing a piece of dream to reality world
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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A Radio With Guts
it was on the 2nd floor on Coronado Street
I used to get drunk
and throw the radio through the window
while it was playing, and, of course,
it would break the glass in the window
and the radio would sit there on the roof
still playing
and I'd tell my woman,
"Ah, what a marvelous radio!"
the next morning I'd take the window
off the hinges
and carry it down the street
to the glass man
who would put in another pane.
I kept throwing that radio through the window
each time I got drunk
and it would sit there on the roof
still playing-
a magic radio
a radio with guts,
and each morning I'd take the window
back to the glass man.
I don't remember how it ended exactly
though I do remember
we finally moved out.
there was a woman downstairs who worked in
the garden in her bathing suit,
she really dug with that trowel
and she put her behind up in the air
and I used to sit in the window
and watch the sun shine all over that thing
while the music played.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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Maori Greeting
No matter where the cafe or the bus stop
The pub or sidewalk of the busy street
It's part of what is their time honoured custom
That Maoris will rub noses when they greet.
Do not ask me why the Maoris rub noses
For about their culture there's little i know
Perhaps their great ancestors brought it with them
From outer Islands centuries ago.
It's Maori way of saying how are you buddy
They always greet each other with a smile
Rub noses and shake hands and sometimes embrace
So good to see you it has been some while.
There is a comraderie amongst the Maoris
The brown skinned people of Pacific Land
They are great warriors but they too can be gentle
And their culture can prove hard to understand.
No matter where tavern or super market
Or side walk of the busy city street
It is part of their old time honoured custom
That Maoris will rub noses when they greet.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Behind Every Gross Appearance Has Invisible Subtle!
Isn't it true
neither moon nor universe, not
even I or you are visible without the
invisible in us.
Visible all are, only because of
that more invisible in us! Behind every visible gross
appearance, there is more
invisible subtle appearance,
When we look at the picture,
We usually forget the canvas,
When watching a TV program, usually we can't see how
invisible electrons produce the
image.
I cannot see my own face,
just as God hides his face to us...
Therefore, could it be that we
have one and the same face?
our face is one of His face,
Yet as he can look at his other
faces using one that he can't see,
We are looking at our other faces
using this one, That we can't see,
This is the truth that The God
uses this face to look at other
faces! Yet we visible to that invisible,
And we are visible only due to
that invisible ground on which
whole world play,
World itself is visible face of that
invisible face, Every life become visible only
because of that who hides is face
behind beauty and ugly faces
alike!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Moon Blanket
You're the candy bar
I want to eat
the sugar dropp on my tongue
and you tease like summer promises
in the back of your pickup truck
and I look up and can only see stars
and your mouth
on mine.
You start me up like that custom hemi of yours
and make me roar
make hair pin turns in my hair
which make me squeal to
the stars above
twinkling
on top of us
on this mattress
as we lay,
only the moon
for a blanket.
Music blares from the radio
someone singing of love
but you're kissing me now
riding cowgirl style.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Give The Radio Back
Hey teacher, what are you trying to do?
I'm getting tired of livin' in this zoo
You slap me in the face and you knock me down
You beat my head right in to the ground
I've never felt this way before
I can't take it no more
So give the radio back
Yeah, give the radio back
Give the radio back to the maniacs
Well, there's a party going on outside
All my friends got ya terrified
Don't call no cops or the state police
Don't break up this blown out symphony
You think I'm wasting all my precious time
You say my music oughta be a crime
Well, give the radio back
Give the radio back
Yeah, give the radio back to the maniacs
To the maniacs
I never ever felt this way before
Ain't gonna take it no more
Yeah, give the radio
Give the radio back
Give the radio back to the maniacs
To the maniacs
Yeah, give the radio to the maniacs
Give the radio to the maniacs
Give it, give it, give the radio
To the maniacs
The little maniacs, you're all maniacs
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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