Seeking the Sweetbreads
How many times have I said
I'm through teasing myself,
through pretending
I don't enjoy
the wreath of a woman
warm around me.
How many times have I said
I'll go out on the streets,
as I have in the past,
in cummerbund and sash,
top hat and cane,
a one-man parade
with bugle and drum,
seeking the sweetbreads
served there all day,
fresh off the brazier,
medium rare.
poem by Donal Mahoney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Medium
Medium, medium.
Waking up I smell the scent of coffee on the brew,
And I think about the amount of the sweet,
Id like to have in my cup today.
One for the two lump, three lump, four.
No half of one, no less no more.
Just give me a chance, let me make it mine.
Id like a medium blend of that piece of pie.
Not too bitter, not too sweet... medium.
Just enough to ? ? ? ... medium.
Not too bitter, not too sweet... medium.
Just enough to ? ? ? ... medium.
Dinner time just rolls around,
And I think I crave a steak but,
Im not too partial to the meat,
When its cooked too long and Im made to wait.
Not too much of the parsony,
And just enough of the spice.
I think Id enjoy a medium-rare dish with a side of fries.
Not too tender, not too tough... medium.
Not too little, just enough... medium.
Not too tender, not too tough... medium.
Not too little, just enough... medium.
Medium. medium. medium. medium. just a medium. medium.
? ? ? and I smell the pits but ? ? ? ? ? .
I couldve sworn a ? ? ? last week and scrubbed like ? ? ? .
I like to stink just a little bit,
Just to keep you on your toes yes.
The more I stink the more I think,
That you smell like a rose.
Not too pleasant, not too bad... medium.
Just enough to hold my ? ? ? ... medium.
Not too pleasant, not too bad... medium.
Just enough to hold my ? ? ? ... medium.
Medium. medium. medium. medium. medium. medium.
song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pretending
(by jerry lynn williams)
How many times must we tell the tale?
How many times must we fall?
Living in lost memory
You just recalled
Working on the sound of the band
Trying to get the music right
Two go out working
Three stay home at night
Thats when she said she was pretending
Like she knew the plan
Thats when I knew she was pretending
Pretending to understand
Pretending, pretending
Pretending, pretending
Satisfied but lost in love
Situations change
Youre never who you used to think you are
How strange
Chorus
I get lost in alibis
Sadness cant prevail
Everybody knows strong love
Cant fail
Dont be pretending about how you feel
Dont be pretending that your love is real
Dont be pretending about how you feel
Dont be pretending that your love is real
Pretending, pretending
Pretending, pretending
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New Times
New times. new times. new times.
Good morning. good morning. good morning.
Im the guard. at one time
This was rather pleasant
The poets they still had to muse
Over the classicism of clean shoes
But who today still knows a button stick
Well, thats the new times
Thats the new times
Thats the new times
The girls would lie down before us
First one went dancing, then behind the bushes
Today you have to run through twenty places
Get drunk on saccharin and methyl
And then you still dont get them that far
Well, thats the new times
Thats the new times
Thats the new times
Now take it easy there in the early morning
Who arrives but the brethren from the press
If somewhere there lies a cadaver
Or something is foul in the state
You can be sure that a writer is not far behind
With his excellency I only say:
Hands off the literature
The laurel wreath one gets today
Second hand so to speak
>from the old empires stories
Sold underhand at the alexanderplatz
With all the wigs and costumes
Twitching from the shoulder one is informed
Well, thats the new times
Thats the new times
Thats the new times
New times. new times. new times.
song performed by by Violent Femmes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lookout Joe
A hip drag queen and a side-walkin street wheeler,
Comin down the avenue.
Theyre all your friends, youll come to love em
Theres a load of em waitin for you.
Lookout joe, youre comin home.
Old times were good times,
Old times were good times.
Remember millie from down in philly?
She took my brain and forgot my name.
The woman you were with was about the same
She took your money and left town.
Lookout joe, youre comin home.
Old times were good times,
Old times were good times.
Glory hallelujah!
Will I lay my burden down?
Singin on the streets around:
Look at that crazy clown.
Remember bill from up on the hill?
A cadillac put a hole in his arm.
But old bill, hes up there still,
Havin a ball rollin to the bottom.
Lookout joe, youre comin home.
Old times were good times,
Old times were good times.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The amount of sophistication varies according to the quality of the medium, and to the state of the same medium at different times; it must be attributed in the best cases physiologically to the medium, intellectually to the control.
quote by Oliver Joseph Lodge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I’m Pretending
I’m pretending nothing happened,
that we are still together.
I’m pretending you never
went away with someone new.
I’m pretending we are still a couple,
that you are still nearby.
I’m pretending,
pretending
I am still with you.
I’m pretending that our love
still shines brightly.
I’m pretending that you still care
and lying to myself each day.
I’m pretending that you just stepped out
and that you are not far away.
I’m pretending,
pretending
I am still with you.
I’m pretending it always summer
and that winter never comes.
I’m pretending life is as it was
and I’m forever with you.
I’m pretending you are with me
and not in the arms of someone new.
I’m pretending that I am smiling
and that I’m not feeling blue.
I’m pretending,
pretending
I am still with you.
20 April 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Good Times Are Killing Me
The good times are killing me.
Here we go!
Got dirt, got air, got water and I know you can carry on.
Shrug off shortsighted false excitement and oh what can I say?
Have one, have twenty more "one mores" and oh it does not relent.
The good times are killing me.
Kick butt buzz-cut dickheads
who didn't like what I said.
The good times are killing me.
Jaws clenched tight we talked all night,
oh but what the hell did we say?
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
Fed up with all that LSD.
Need more sleep than coke or methamphetamines.
Late nights with warm, warm whiskey.
I guess the good times they were all just killing me.
Got dirt, got air, got water and I know you can carry on.
The good times are killing me.
Enough hair of the dog to make myself an entire rug.
The good times are killing me.
Have one, have twenty more "one mores" and oh it does not relent.
The good times are killing me.
Shit-kicker city slickers who all wanted me dead.
The good times are killing me.
Get sucked in and stuck in late nights
with more folks that I don't know.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
song performed by by Modest Mouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good Times Are Killing Me
MODEST MOUSE - The Good Times Are Killing Me
Album: Good News For People Who Love Bad News (2004)
The good times are killing me.
Here we go!
Got dirt, got air, got water and I know you can carry on.
Shrug off shortsighted false excitement and oh what can I say?
Have one, have twenty more "one mores" and oh it does not relent.
The good times are killing me.
Kick butt buzz-cut dickheads
who didn't like what I said.
The good times are killing me.
Jaws clenched tight we talked all night,
oh but what the hell did we say?
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
Fed up with all that LSD.
Need more sleep than coke or methamphetamines.
Late nights with warm, warm whiskey.
I guess the good times they were all just killing me.
Got dirt, got air, got water and I know you can carry on.
The good times are killing me.
Enough hair of the dog to make myself an entire rug.
The good times are killing me.
Have one, have twenty more "one mores" and oh it does not relent.
The good times are killing me.
Shit-kicker city slickers who all wanted me dead.
The good times are killing me.
Get sucked in and stuck in late nights
with more folks that I don't know.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
song performed by by Modest Mouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just Passing Time
Passing time,
Time passes.
And longing for times past.
With no pastime,
I think of past times.
Times of joy.
Sorrowful times.
Layered.
Like an alluvial plain,
I am inundated, flooded.
As the past floods in
Passing by the inner eye
I time travel.
Bad thoughts by passed
Passed all thought
They pass away.
Pass into the past
To lie again quiescent
A timely demise
For times past.
Copyright P H Brookes 20012
poem by Paul Brookes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jennifer’s Lad
SWEET Jennifer came calling me
Along the shining beach.
'There's green upon the hawthorn tree
There's bloom upon the peach.
O, April's found the upland larch,
The hazel in the hollow,'–
But louder was the snare-drum with it's 'March, march, march !'
And clearer called the bugle, 'Will you follow ?'
Young Jennifer came seeking me
With love upon her lips.
'O, all kind angels keep the sea
And fortune guard the ships.
The Autumn winds have rent the larch,
The south has won the swallow,'–
But clearer beat the snare-drum with it's 'March, march, march !'
And sweeter sang the bugle, 'Will you follow ?'
poem by Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So Connected To You
There are times when I'm happy
and times when I'm sad
and all of these times that I have had
are all connected to you,
so connected to you.
so connected to you.
There are times when it's sunny
and times when it's not
and all of these times I never forgot
were all connected to you,
so connected to you.
'Cause you have my heart on a string
and I can't control one little thing.
Where's my composure? Where did it go?
'Can't even answer for I don't know.
There are times when I'm jumpy
and times when I'm still
and times when I'm playful
like Jack and Jill.
And they're all connected to you,
so connected to you.
So what do I do to get over you?
You've got me crazy in love with you.
I take a step forward and fall back two
and everywhere that I go
there'll be times when I want you
and times when I don't.
There'll be times that I'll have you
and times that I won't
but there's absolutely nothing I can do
'Cause I'm connected to you,
so connected to you
So I know we can never be through.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She Was a Great Woman - Coretta Scott King
She was a woman of strength
She handled great responsibility as her husband fought for our freedom
She was a woman of vision
As she stood by her husband she could see what he saw and continue to stand
She was a woman of courage
She never backed down because of danger that was around
She was a woman of intelligence
Being educated never propelled her to an attitude of haughtiness
She was a woman of passion
Once Martin was gone she continued the quest for the accomplishment of his dream
She was a woman of prayer
Her communication with God let her know that she must carry on
She was a woman of greatness
She never tried to place herself out front
She was a woman of servanthood
She served others while not seeking to be served
She was a woman of determination
She traveled near and far to carry on the legacy of her husband
She was a woman full of life
She loved God, her husband, her children and all mankind until the day she was called home
She was a Great woman
poem by Deidre Blair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Woman Is Like A Beautiful Poem
when a woman looses her purity
it is the most tragic experience the world
has to suffer. in a woman's heart
rest the hope for a better tomorrow
to see a woman cry is the hardest
moment a man has to witness
when a woman's heart is filled with
darkness and poison, that is similar
to a garden with barren soil.
nothing will grow and everything will die
a woman's dreams are like a breath
of fresh air in a cesspool
her arms will shelter you from any harm
her eyes will rescue you from a life of monotony
and her words will become your long life symphony
a woman is like a beautiful poem
at times tragic at times grandeur
but in her essence she is forever golden
poem by Raymond Valadez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If These Times Lived Did Not Exist
May these times lived,
Be those times we now live in...
With the acknowledgement,
That if these times lived did not exist...
There would be no other times like these,
Experienced to say...
They have come to us to be witnessed,
Like this.
To enjoy to disagree in argument.
Or observe the necessity of conflict.
If these times for us lived did not exist...
How many can honestly say,
They awaken each day prepared to resist...
Such a majestic blessing many do not appreciate.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Made Of Stone (808 State Remix)
Your knuckles whiten on the wheel
The last thing that your hands will feel
your final flight can't be delayed
No earth just sky it's so serene
Your pink fat lips let go a scream
You fry and melt I love the scene
Sometimes I fantasize
When the streets are cold and lonely
And the cars they burn below me
Don't these times fill your eyes
When the streets are cold and lonely
And the cars they burn below me
Are you all alone
Is anybody home?
I'm standing warm against the cold
Now that the flames have taken hold
At least you left your life in style
And for as far as I can see
Tin twisted grills grin back at me
Bad money dies I love the scene
Sometimes I fantasize
When the streets are cold and lonely
And the cars they burn below me
Don't these times
Fill your eyes
When the streets are cold and lonely
And the cars they burn below me
Are you all alone
Is anybody home
Sometimes I fantasize
When the streets are cold and lonely
And the cars they burn below me
Don't these times
Fill your eyes
When the streets are cold and lonely
And the cars they burn below me
Are you all alone
Are you made of stone
song performed by by Stone Roses
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Drummer Boy
A drummer boy dressed in white tapped his drum as he passed by my bed,
he never looked at me, and not a word was said.
Tippy tap drum, tippy tap drum, tippy tap drum, was his marching beat.
There was blood from a wound, but he kept to his feet.
As he marched back and forth it looked as though he was going to fall,
but he continued to beat his drum, as he walked through the wall.
On his departure the sound of a bugle was heard above the drum,
whistling rifle shots and cannon fire added to the battle’s hum.
A boy dressed in red and white, blowing a bugle marched passed my bed,
he had suffered a wound, and blood was flowing from his head.
Blowing with all his might I could see the determination on his face,
he seemed to be running out of breath, as he slowly lost the pace.
The drummer boy came up beside him and marched by his side,
the bugle boy stood up straight, and blew the charge as he cried.
Another drummer boy passed my bed followed by two more,
the bugle boy stood and looked ahead, and then fell to the floor.
Several soldiers charged pass, with bayonets fixed for attack,
passing the drummer boy one yelled, “Keep playing and don’t look back.”
With the sound of bullets in the air and shells exploding all around
soldiers charged and fell by my bed to the now distant drumming sound.
It suddenly all went quiet as everyone disappeared through the wall,
except for the drummer boy who played as he stood tall.
Tippy tap drum, tippy tap drum, tippy tap drum; a much softer beat,
he then looked at me with tears in his eyes, as he faded at my feet.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Made Of Stone
Your knuckles whiten on the wheel
The last thing that your hands will feel
Your final flight can't be delayed
No earth just sky it's so serene
Your pink fat lips let go a scream
You fry and melt I love the scene
Sometimes I fantasize
When the streets are cold and lonely
And the cars they burn below me
Don't these times
Fill your eyes
When the streets are cold and lonely
And the cars they burn below me
Are you all alone
Is anybody home?
I'm standing warm against the cold
Now that the flames have taken hold
At least you left your life in style
And for as far as I can see
Tin twisted grills grin back at me
Bad money dies I love the scene
Sometimes I fantasize
When the streets are cold and lonely
And the cars they burn below me
Don't these times
Fill your eyes
When the streets are cold and lonely
And the cars they burn below me
Are you all alone
Is anybody home
Sometimes I fantasize
When the streets are cold and lonely
And the cars they burn below me
Don't these times
Fill your eyes
When the streets are cold and lonely
And the cars they burn below me
Are you all alone
Are you made of stone
song performed by by The Stone Roses from The Stone Roses
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Made Of Stone
Your knuckles whiten on the wheel
The last thing that your hands will feel
Your final flight cant be delayed
No earth, just sky its so surreal
Your pink fat lips let go a scream
You fry and melt I love the scene
Sometimes I fantasise
When the streets are cold and lonely
And the cars they burn below me
Dont these times fill your eyes
When the streets are cold and lonely
And the cars they burn below me
Are you all alone
Is anybody home?
Im standing warm against the cold
Now that the flames have taken hold
At least you left your life in style
And for far as I can see
Ten twisted grills grin back at me
Bad money dies I love the scene
Sometimes I fantasise
When the streets are cold and lonely
And the cars they burn below me
Dont these times fill your eyes
When the streets are cold and lonely
And the cars they burn below me
Are you all alone
Is anybody home?
Sometimes I fantasise
When the streets are cold and lonely
And the cars they burn below me
Dont these times fill your eyes
When the streets are cold and lonely
And the cars they burn below me
Are you all alone
Are you made of stone?
song performed by by Stone Roses
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Criminal Poet
There is blood
In the city moonlight,
Beautiful hoodlums
Parade like Labor Day
Through the sad streets
Seeking girls with tattoos
And lonely hearts.
And sweetheart,
That’s the way
I’m seeking you:
I’m a criminal poet
Trying to break every rhythmic rule
To touch your hair
And become your fool.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To My General
There is in life
rare times
when in the maelstrom
character matters.
There has been in my life
rare times
when I have seen it become
the rock
which moves mountains.
In the end I guess
it is people
and the values
they possess
which determine
destinies.
Here's to you
my General
a Tip of the Hat
and my hearty thanks.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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