Dennis
Your strokes are the strokes of man and,
My archive is full of your story;
But my black box is for Dennis my friend.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Related quotes
Paint body art beautiful
her majesty the hand
with nail graffiti polish
pain in henna red
paint in henna black
paint paint my heart
paint body art faithful
faithful to the strokes
paint in strokes divine
paint in strokes of red
paint in strokes of black
paint paint my heart
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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It's valid that the Strokes and the Pleased have been influenced by some of the same bands. But it's invalid in the sense that we listen to the Strokes and try to sounds like them. I think that they are a good band.
quote by Joanna Newsom
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every Day People
Sometimes I'm right then I can be wrong
My own beliefs are in my songs
A butcher, a banker, Jack Irons on drums
Makes no difference what group I'm in
I am everyday people
Then it's the blue ones who can't accept
The green ones for living with
The black ones tryin' to be a skinny one
Different strokes for different folks
And so on and so on and scooby dooby dooby
Ooh sha sha
We gotta live together
I am no better and neither are you
We're all the same whatever we do
You love me you hate me
You know me and then
Still can't figure out the scene I'm in
I am everyday people
Then it's the new man
That doesn't like the short man
For being such a rich one
That will not help the poor one
Different strokes for different folks
And so on and so on scooby dooby dooby
Ooh sha sha
We got to live together
There is a yellow one that won't
Accept the black one
That won't accept the red one
That won't accept the white one
Different strokes for different folks
And so on and so on and
Scooby dooby dooby
Ooh sha sha
I am everyday people
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paint and Brushes
When I'm sad, my depression sinking in
paint and brushes become my best friend
dots and strokes, black is my color
pouring out my soul
poem by Dagmar Wilson
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The Strokes Of My Pen
With the strokes of my pen
I'll write again
words that come into view.
And those that come upon my words
will know me as they do.
For my heart will speak to them
and say
you, my readers have found a way
to read the thoughts
I leave behind
and then you'll find
you know me.
You won't need to see
my presence at all.
For all my words will make the call
and bare my soul to you.
And you will know just who I am.
The strokes of my pen are the clue.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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A Mountaineer
ERE Beowulf's song
Was heard from the ships,
Ere Roland had set
The horn to his lips:
In Ogham strokes
A name was writ:
That name his name
Lives in yet.
The strokes on the edge
Of the stone might count
The acres he has
On this bare mount;
But he remembers
The pillar-stone,
And knows that he is
Of the seed of Eoin.
poem by Padraic Colum
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The number of strokes to the inch controls the pitch of the note: the more, the higher the pitch; the fewer, the lower the pitch, the size of the stroke controls the loudness... the tone quality is the most difficult element to control, it is made by the shape of the strokes.
quote by Norman McLaren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everyday People
(sly stone)
Originally performed by sly and the family stone. jeff performed it live at beilefeld, germany on july 12 1995.
Sometimes Im right and I can be wrong
My own beliefs are in my song
The butcher, the banker, the drummer and then
Makes no difference what group Im in
I am everyday people, yeah yeah
There is a blue one who cant accept the green one
For living with a fat one trying to be a skinny one
And different strokes for different folks
And so on and so on and scooby dooby doo-bee
Oh sha sha - we got to live together
I am no better and neither are you
We are the same whatever we do
You love me you hate me you know me and then
You cant figure out the bag lm in
I am everyday people, yeah yeah
There is a long hair that doesnt like the short hair
For bein such a rich one that will not help the poor one
And different strokes for different folks
And so on and so on and scooby dooby doo-bee
Oh sha sha-we got to live together
There is a yellow one that wont accept the black one
That wont accept the red one that wont accept the white one
And different strokes for different folks
Oh sha sha-
I am everyday people.
song performed by by Jeff Buckley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Bold Strokes
now in bold strokes
i have drawn my jaw
front of the mirror
and you find it horrible
but it is my jaw
and none of the other
i put my beard like a
waterfall
making the sounds of
confusions
in bold strokes i draw
the face
of my manhood
and you want to have compromises
about my teeth
and tongue
some have to be pulled
and the tongue
is not that long enough
the terms are clear
if you disagree then there is no deal
if you insist
there is no us in this
it arrives at a decision
either you
or myself
and if you do not leave
i will
my feet are strong
my soles are thick.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Red Strokes
Moonlight on canvas, midnight and wine
Two shadows starting to softly combine
The picture theyre painting
Is one of the heart
And to those who have seen it
Its a true work of art.
(chorus)
Oh, the red strokes
Passions uncaged
Thundering moments of tenderness rage
Oh, the red strokes
Tempered and strong (fearlessly drawn)
Burning the night like the dawn
Steam on the window, salt in a kiss
Two hearts have never pounded like this
Inspired by a vision
That they cant command
Erasing the borders
With each brush of a hand
*chorus*
Oh, the blues will be blue and the jealousies green
But when love picks its shade it demands to be seen
*chorus*
Oh, the red strokes
Passions uncaged
Thundering moments of tenderness rage
Oh, the red strokes
Tempered and strong (fearlessly drawn)
Burning the night like the dawn.
Steam on the window, salt in a kiss
Two hearts have never pounded like this.
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hystrion mute dressed in metaphors
transferred the silences
raft across the rivers
kept rowing with bare hands
downfall water foam
upstream strong strokes
in vessel stolen hearts
lotus like ripples
tears full of cheeks
hands full of slaps
lips full of hope
took it all over
over and over again
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Row of Pansies
Black surround by soft
Purple curving
Green strokes
Connecting Ground
To Earth.
Let us pray.
poem by Charlotte Ballard
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Bad Seed?
Cisterns of toxins?
Sizzles the brain?
Scars in the myocardium
And pent up disdain;
Breeding anger and contempt
With each sip from the well
Oh so destructive to mind and body
Leading to hours of sheer h-! ;
Water supply 'tis suspect
But who then the source?
Heart attack and strokes?
The enemies resource?
Workers of the Dark One?
Knee high in covetness and greed?
No conscience...No morals?
The Beasts unholy seed?
Dedicated to: All Unknowing Victims Of Stimulant Abuse!
They are killers...Methamphetamine, Cocaine, Crack and
Ectstacy...
Watch your drinks always...
Have known many people as young as 20 who have
Had strokes and heart attacks...
It hit a little too close to home several years ago...
My sons ex girl friend was using meth and she
had a cerebral hemorage and almost died! The bleed
was in her brainstem!
poem by Theodora Onken
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Slow Poke
(myles goodwyn)
Published by slalom publishing co. - bmi
I got somethin to keep you satisfied
So wont you excuse me, while I slip inside
I aint gonna rush things, you know I aint no speed freak
And I like to take my time whenever I eat
Cause Im just a slow poke, uh-huh, with long strokes
I said Im just a slow poke, baby
And I like to take my time, poke on
Id like to see you with the lights turned down
And Id like to see you when you go down
Im gonna be there, right by your side
Im just gonna hang on, and let you take me for a ride
So how bout a slow poke, uh-huh, with long strokes
I said how bout a slow poke, baby
I like to take my time, alright
Id like to poke you right here on the floor
I aint gonna stop none, till I hear you call for more
Then Im gonna tease you till youre ready to scream
Then Im gonna please you, its gonna seem like a dream
So how bout a slow poke, uh-huh, with long strokes
I said how bout a slow poke, baby
I like to take my time, poke on
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fading Of The Day
God in his usual strokes
splashing the colors
from indigo to magenta
to light blue to saffron
paints another day in the
lifetime of
the black canvass of our lives.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dorgbey
Candles od strokes,
Setting me to fall;
But i gained my balance by the help of a woman,
And like the wings of love in summer time.
Dorgbey my friend,
I have learnt a lot in this life;
But i have now found peace and the commitment in you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The reality of a sudden wooden maiden.
Can you see her?
She`s a glimpse of a wink
And half as pink.
Beneath the leafy undergrowth
And crunchy branches.
She strolls and woos you.
Between your looking
Aside and behind.
She`s a glimpse and a wink.
Maybe she`s real
And half as pink.
Can you see her?
Can you see you?
She strokes your head
And swings into her dream.
She strolls and woos you.
Between alert eyes,
And suspense or fear.
Amidst leafy undergrowth
And crunchy branches.
Watching from her perch.
What is she?
Is she you?
She strokes your hand,
And trips your feet
As you nervously laugh
Into deadly stillness.
poem by Peter Vealey
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The Angel
The angel rides with hunch-backed children, poison oozing from his engine
Wieldin love as a lethal weapon, on his way to hubcap heaven
Baseball cards poked in his spokes, his boots in oil hes patiently soaked
The roadside attendant nervously jokes as the angels tires strokes his precious pavement
The interstates choked with nomadic hordes in volkswagen vans with full running boards dragging great anchors
Followin dead-end signs into the sores
The angel rides by humpin his hunk metal whore
Madison avenues claim to fame in a trainer bra with eyes like rain
She rubs against the weather-beaten frame and asks the angel for his name
Off in the distance the marble dome reflects across the flatlands with a naked feel off into parts unknown
The woman strokes his polished chrome and lies beside the angels bones
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Will Tie A Knot And Call It Art
The cigarette pressed against your lips tells a lie
there is beauty in a broken heart
a voice in despair
tears become art, sentences become verse
There is beauty in a broken heart
paint strokes of red, cancers of black
tears become art, sentences become verse
gentle music of shouts and screams
paint strokes of red, cancers of black
splashed across the wall, chips of bone and bits of brain
gentle music of shouts and screams
one gunshot one piece of art
splashed across the wall, chips of bone and bits of brain
a voice in despair
one gunshot one piece of art
The cigarette pressed against your lips tells a lie
poem by Geof Lusins
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