Through Walmart's Doors
A gaze within
A look without
At a blur of a throng
That moves about
Old… young
Fat… thin
Rushing home
Then back again
Eager faces,
Ready checks
Fingers tight on
Back of children’s necks
Tugging at carts
Stuck tightly together
All dressed… all wrong
No matter the weather
Chinese products
Bought chop-chop quick
Out of date products
That makes them sick
A blur of humanity
An unending shout
River of people…
That flows in and out
In and out, …out and in
A blur…a river…a streak
Twenty four hours… each and every day
Seven days a week
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Chop, Chop, Chop
Some people call me the Creeper
'Cuz they don't know my name or face
I got 'em running in circles
Because a homicidal genius never leaves a trace
I'm a lonely hunter
City full of game
Walkin' in the neon lights
Chop, chop, chop, engine of destruction
Chop, chop, chop, a perfect killing machine
Chop, chop, chop, it's a symbiotic function
Chop, chop, chop, I keep the city so clean
Chop, chop, chop
Some people call me the Ripper
Stole my modus operandi from the movie screen
She's just a celluloid stripper
Just another bloody player in my splatter-filled dream
Women on the streets
Want money when we meet
I take them for a little ride
Chop, chop, chop, engine of destruction
Chop, chop, chop, a perfect killing machine
Chop, chop, chop, it's symbiotic function
Chop, chop, chop, I keep the city so clean
Chop, chop, chop
She was standing on the corner
With her bright red lips
Her face was so white and pale (so pale)
She had a black leather skirt
That was tight to her hips
And an anklet with a name
It spelled M A R Y..... Gail
Gail Gail Gail Gail
Gail Gail Gail Gail
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Choppin' Wood
(Van Morrison)
You wired the trains and went back home to St. Claire's shores
Before you became a spark down at the yard
You were passing through those hungry years alone
You were just trying to make a living out in Detroit
When you came back off the boats you didn't want to go anywhere
You sit down to TV in your favourite chair
You watch the big picture fade away down at Harland and Wolff
But you still kept on choppin' wood
And you came back home to Belfast
So you could be with us like
You lived your life of quiet desperation on the side
Going to the shipyard in the morning on your bike
Well the spark was gone but you carried on
You always did the best you could
You sent for us once but everything fell through
But you still kept on choppin' wood choppin' wood
Well you came back home to Belfast
So you could be with us like
And you lived a life of quiet desperation on the side
Going to the shipyard in the morning on your bike
WeIl the spark was gone but you carried on
Well you did just the best that you could
You sent for us one time but everything fell through
But you still kept on choppin' wood
Kept on choppin'wood
Kept on choppin' wood
Local man chops wood
You know you did the best you could
Well everything just fell through
Kept on choppin' wood
Chop, chop, chop, chop, chop,
Chop, chop, chop, chop, chop,
Chop, chop, chop, keep on choppin'
Chop, chop, chop, choppin' wood
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poke Chop Sandwich
(about lightnin hopkins drummer who used to keep a porkchop sandwich on his floor tom, for snacking during the breaks. recorded with hopkins drummer, spider, present in the studio.)
Poke
Better watch that
Poke chop sandwichwaitin in th? sack
Ridin a tom tom, a double fat back
Got my poke chop sandwich? /p>
Layin on da drum
Poke chop greazyIm gonna get some
Get some a? dat poke chop
Poke chop sandwich
Poke chop
Poke chop sandwich
Yeah yeah twenty five
Louisiana back beat and th? texas bop
Do a hollywood shuffle jes? cant top it
New york turn around and
Th? london stomp
African good luck combination
I know that ya want
Poke chop
Poke chop sandwich
Poke chop
Double poke chop sandwich
Play on
Spider & lightnin hopkins got
Th? big bad beat
Aint no question what they gonna eat
Spider wanna a bottle,
Lightnin? wanna a can
Theyll take in a bucket
cause they dam well can
A poke chop
A poke at dat chop
Cut dat poke chope
Poke chop sandwich
Feel like, I feel like a poke chop sandwich
Give me dat sandwich in wax paper
Pork chop sandwich
song performed by by ZZ Top
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mistakes and Changes
Dreading day after day
Slowly trudging through
People pass by a blur
Of faces and clothes
Sitting in the back
Listening to the drones
Of supposed authority
Doing what your told
Feeling inadequate
Feeling bored
Feeling alone and separate
So different from what was the norm
Only a few days ago
Looking so forward
To the end of the week
When things will change
When I can go home
poem by Autumn Winds
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pork Chops are Fun
chop chop chop the pork squeals over dinner
with it's fatty bits and tasty bites
it marinates on a stick over hot coal
who will taste it first who will finish the bowl
Wow Pork Chops with red wine
then dinner will be divine
chop chop chop the pork is done
with ginger, wine and lots of fun
it's time to have with a salty bun
chop chop chop see it go in the oven my friends
it's dinner time lets eat it all
then lets sit together and have a ball
chop chop chop the pork tastes good
with the meat so tender it bloody weel should
sometimes on the pan sometimes as a roast
call your freinds for dinner it's a dish one can boast
chop chop chop the pork is done
sprikle a little wine to make things bright
then the meat put it on light
watch it burn and tremble with delight
chop chop chop my pork chops are done
poem by Anuj Tikku
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Threat....
the river today
is clear, slow in its flow,
monotonous
the cloud above it
looks for its
face
in today's river
it is this blur that
makes it drift
the river rage is not
totally gone
tonight it shall tell the
moon
what are some possibilities
of anger
it is this anger
that makes the cloud heavy
and it is this heaviness
that makes the rain
that finally makes
the storm
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Axeman
High on the hills, where the tall trees grow,
There lives an axeman that 1 know.
From his little hut by a ferny creek,
Day after day, week after week,
He goes each morn with his shining axe,
Trudging along by the forest tracks;
And he chops and he chops till the daylight goes
High on the hills, where the blue-gum grows.
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
There's a log to move and a branch to lop.
Now to the felling! His sharp axe bites
Into a tree on the forest heights,
And scarce for a breath does the axeman stop-
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
Bell-birds watch him; and in the fern
Wallabies listen awhile, and turn
Back through the bracken, and off they hop.
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . -. Chop!)
Patient and tireless, blow on blow
The axeman swings as the minutes go;
While the echoes ring from the mountain-top.
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
Round about him the. rabbits play,
Skipping and scampering all the day,
And the sweet young grass by the logs they crop.
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
Crimson parrots above him climb,
The Axeman
Chattering, chattering all the time,
As down from the branches the twigs they drop.
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! Chop!)
Steadily, surely, on he goes,
Shaking the tree with his mighty blows:
There's never a pause and there's never a stop.
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
Out from the bush beyond is heard
The swaggering song of the butcher-bird
Seeking a joint for his butcher's shop.
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
Deeper and deeper the cut creeps in,
While the parrots shriek with a deafening din,
And the chips fly out with a flip and a flop.
(Chip! Chop! Chip! Chop!)
Yellow robins come flocking round,
Watching the chips as they fall to ground,
Darting to catch the g ubs that drop.
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
The blows come quicker. The axe~biade hums,
Stand well back, there, before she comes!
Hark! How the splinters crack and pop-
(Chip! . . Chop! . . Chip! . . Chop!)
Listen! Listen! She's creaking now!
Look, high up, at that trembling bough!
Another second, and down she'll smash,
Shaking the earth with a mighty crash;
Look at her! Look at her! (Chip! Chop!
Chip! . . . . . . . .Chip!)
Wee - E - E - E - E - E --
FLOP!
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hysteria Of A Sick Soul From A Friend's Diary
it happened so fast
it was just a blur
i tried to clear
my head of the
whisky fuzz
it was just a
blur,
a film over,
just a glaze over a glassy surface
hope loses clear vision.
Her eyes glazed over
perhaps from lack of sleep
The haze blurs the hills
confuse, obnubilate,
obscure barbaric incantations
yes, unclear, indistinct,
blurred decisions
Remarks confused
the debate
over words
obnubilate
their intentions
blur,
smear,
smudge,
smutch
earth smudges
blear, blur
dim indistinct
The fog blurs my vision
dim, slur
you're one vague indistinct
shadow in the
night
garden
The distinctions between
two theories about ourselves
blurred at the end
goodbye says goodbye to goodbye
just that just that
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At 65
Here I am almost 65.
In some ways only half alive.
Last week is just a blur;
A lot of memories never were.
Most movements have slowed down,
Though urinary tract has rebound.
My colon is much more rude;
No greasy, spicy… tasty food.
As I gaze in the mirror, I sadly see
A strange, old man squinting back at me.
poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sad at 65
Here I am almost 65.
In some ways only half alive.
Last week is just a blur;
A lot of memories never were.
Most movements have slowed down,
Though urinary tract has rebound.
My colon is much more rude;
No greasy, spicy… tasty food.
As I gaze in the mirror, I sadly see
A strange, old man squinting back at me.
poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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River Feeling
River feeling is
As simple as
Closing your eyes
For a moment.
Everything flows like river
River feeling is
As smooth as
Everything after
The first step.
Everything flows like river
River feeling is
easy as forgetting
Walking boots.
Everything flows like river
River feeling is
nice as
iron ties
Coming off.
Everything flows like river
Everything flows like river
Everything flows like river
Everything is good and flows
like river
poem by Julian Mann
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Where The River Flows
Music : rudolf schenker
Lyrics: klaus meine
Under suburban skies
Where life is bleeding
Where concrete skies are grey
Theres plenty of room for dreaming
I still keep coming here
Follow those traces
I travel back in time
Remember all those places
Feels like I never left
The houses still standing
Down by the river where
The dreams are never ending
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
Under the silent moon
This industrial city
Is heartland even though
Lifes been not that pretty
I still keep coming here
To that old river
To find my roots just where
The future lives forever
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me, you can find me
By the river where dreams will never die
By the river under suburban skies
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
By the river where dreams have never died
By the river I look through childrens eyes
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
You find me
You find me
You find me by the river
You find me
You find me
You find me where the river flows
Where the river flows
Where the river flows
Where the river flows
song performed by by Scorpions
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dams On The Cuyahoga
Just west
of the Lake,
meanders
the burning river.
The river
in my dreams.
The river on fire.
The river
that oozes
rather than flows.
The river
in which
a person
does not drown
but decays.
And there
the river sits,
waiting for me
to come back home.
poem by Holden Solo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Line Begins To Blur
There are things I said I would never do
There are fears I can not believe have come true
For my soul is too sick and it's too little and too late
and myself I have grown to weary to hate
The more I stay in here
The more it's not so clear
The more I stay in here
The more I disappear
As far as I have gone
I knew what side I'm on
But now I'm not so sure
The line begins to blur
There's somebody on top of me
I don't know I don't know
Is anyone stopping me?
I don't know I don't know
I won't try and hold my breath
I don't know I don't know
Just how far can I go
I don't know I don't know
As I lay here
the fabric starts to tear
It's far beyond repair
And I don't really care
As far as I have gone
I knew what side I'm on
But now I'm not so sure
The line begins to blur
song performed by by Nine Inch Nails
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Line Begins To Blur
There are things that I said I would never do
There are fears that I can not believe have come true
For my soul is too sick and too little and too late
and myself I have grown to weary to hate
The more I stay in here
The more it's not so clear
The more I stay in here
The more I disappear
As far as I have gone
I knew what side I'm on
But now I'm not so sure
The line begins to blur
There's somebody on top of me
I don't know I don't know
Isn't anyone stopping me?
I don't know I don't know
I won't try and hold my breath
I don't know I don't know
Just how far down can I go
I don't know I don't know I don't know
As I lie here and stare
the fabric starts to tear
It's far beyond repair
And I don't really care
As far as I have gone
I knew what side I'm on
But now I'm not so sure
The line begins to blur
song performed by by Nine Inch Nails
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Elizabeth Childers
Dust of my dust,
And dust with my dust,
O, child who died as you entered the world,
Dead with my death!
Not knowing Breath, though you tried so hard,
With a heart that beat when you lived with me,
And stopped when you left me for Life.
It is well, my child. For you never traveled
The long, long way that begins with school days,
When little fingers blur under the tears
That fall on the crooked letters.
And the earliest wound, when a little mate
Leaves you alone for another;
And sickness, and the face of Fear by the bed;
The death of a father or mother;
Or shame for them, or poverty;
The maiden sorrow of school days ended;
And eyeless Nature that makes you drink
From the cup of Love, though you know it’s poisoned;
To whom would your flower-face have been lifted?
Botanist, weakling? Cry of what blood to yours?—
Pure or foul, for it makes no matter,
It’s blood that calls to our blood.
And then your children—oh, what might they be?
And what your sorrow? Child! Child!
Death is better than Life!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters from Spoon River Anthology
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Running On!
The dusk is down on the river meadows,
The moon is climbing above the fir,
The lane is crowded with creeping shadows,
The gorse is only a distant blur;
The last of the light is almost gone,
But hark! They're running!
They're running on !
The count of the years is steadily growing;
The Old give way to the eager Young;
Far on the hill is the horn still blowing,
Far on the steep are the hounds still strung.
Good men follow the good men gone;
And hark! They're running!
They're running on!
poem by William Henry Ogilvie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Back Home Then.......
the plane
touches down
smoothly
a few seconds
i look at the river
winding
in murk
the nipa palms
have water
on their necks
too much water here
back home
it stresses
my mind
sometimes i think
this world will end
with so much water
that we all drown to death
that waves as big as mountains
come to claim
our lives
i am back home then
whatever happens
it does not matter anymore
i will say it to myself
we all die anyway
what time
and how
it does not really matter
i am back home
and we are still on
missing each other's
arms.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Michael Robins’s Class Minus One
At the desk where the boy sat, he sees the Chicago River.
It raises its hand.
It asks if metaphor should burn.
He says fire is the basis for all forms of the mouth.
He asks, why did you fill the boy with your going?
I didn't know a boy had been added to me, the river says.
Would you have given him back if you knew?
I think so, the river says, I have so many boys in me,
I'm worn out stroking eyes looking up at the day.
Have you written a poem for us? he asks the river,
and the river reads its poem,
and the other students tell the river
it sounds like a poem the boy would have written,
that they smell the boy's cigarettes
in the poem, they feel his teeth
biting the page.
And the river asks, did this boy dream of horses?
because I suddenly dream of horses, I suddenly dream.
They're in a circle and the river says, I've never understood
round things, why would leaving come back
to itself?
And a girl makes a kiss with her mouth and leans it
against the river, and the kiss flows away
but the river wants it back, the river makes sounds
to go after the kiss.
And they all make sounds for the river to carry to the boy.
And the river promises to never surrender the boy's shape
to the ocean.
I just play to the people I can see. So it's almost like you are playing to the first few rows of the crowd. You can see the faces of the first hundred people, but then it becomes a blur as the crowds disappear over the hill.