Ton, Torn, Thorn!
This ton of the cocoa sack is now torn at the side because,
There is a thorn in the sack;
However, it is just a minute for the minuet! !
Because, you are on the road to nowhere.
I am in the dark and very hopeful,
For the light will surely come to me one day;
Because, i am interested in the muse of love.
Ton, torn, thorn!
And like breaking rthe spell on you;
Because, the condom is no defence to you my brother! !
And, it is leading you to hell than closer to heaven.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Related quotes
An empty sack can't stand up; a full sack cannot bend.
Virgin Islander proverbs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm gonna give them the advice that I always took myself, that it's better to get to know somebody before you jump into the sack with them. Because then if you jump into the sack and fall in love, and you liked them already, you're home free.
quote by Pia Zadora
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sack Owoe
Always screaming cause Im suffering so
Lifes done never such a terrible blow
Thing Im in is just a sack owoe
Misery company and Im feeling low
Trouble follows me wherever I go
Thing Im in is just a sack owoe
Trouble one thing I understand
Seems to be a part of me
Misery and me go hand in hand
Never ever let me be
Sure as Im born one thing I know
Thing Im in is just a sack owoe
Repeat first and second verse
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Consumed by love
Thanks to the hundreds of you who daily
are so eager to enhance my life
and that of my partner
with pills and extensions
giving night-long passion -
now, do you have a cure
for arriving at the office in the morning
exhausted?
It's a tale of two sacks -
hit the sack, or get the sack...
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Plea
Writers of baseball, attention!
When you're again on the job-
When, in your rage for invention,
You with the language play hob-
Most of your dope we will pardon,
Though of the moth ball it smack;
But-cut out the 'sinister garden,'
Chop the 'initial sack.'
Rake poor old Roget's 'Thesaurus'
For phrases fantastic and queer;
And though on occasions you bore us,
We will refrain from a sneer.
We will endeavour to harden
Ourselves to the rest of your clack,
If you'll cut out the 'sinister garden'
And chop the 'initial sack.'
Singers of words that are scrambled,
Say, if you will, that he 'died,'
Write, if you must, that he 'ambled'-
We shall be last to deride.
But us to the Forest of Arden,
Along with the misanthrope Jaques,
If you cling to the 'sinister garden'
And stick to 'initial sack.'
Speak of the 'sphere's aberration,'
Mention the 'leathery globe,'
Say he got 'free transportation'-
Though that try the patience of Job.
But if you're wise you'll discard en-
Cumbrances such as we thwack-
Especially 'sinister garden'
And the 'initial sack.
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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Thorn In My Side
Thorn in, my side.
And you live just to pull me down.
Rusted, nail I stepped on.
This infection.
Thorn in my side.
Youre full,
I think so,
of anger.
You need to sit down,
stay down.
The things you, want but dont get.
Is that fair, I dont think so.
A sure thing, you can count, on.
A big depression.
A thorn in my side.
Youre full,
I think so,
of anger.
You need to.
Your praise, is two faced,
And youre,
youre cut down,
my friend.
Cut Down.
(One, two, three, four by Sergio Vega)
A thorn in my side, thorn in.
A thorn in my side, thorn in.
song performed by by Quicksand
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sack Full Of Stones
(Travis Tritt/Marty Stuart)
I used to be the kind of guy
I could laugh as well as cry
With a heart feather-soft and summer-warm
Since you've left me I've been faced
With emptiness that's been replaced
With a heart that's hard and heavy as a sack full of stones
I never thought I'd ever see
The man my mirror is showing me
Lord I must have aged ten years
Since you've been gone
The longest mile you'll ever crawl
Is the one after you fall
Draggin' around a heart that's heavy as a sack full of stones
With the world upon my shoulders
And my feelings on my sleeve
Every time I close my eyes at night
All I do is watch you leave
But by far the biggest curse of being left alone
Is draggin' around a heart that's heavy as a sack full of stones
Well I tried turning to a bottle
But the bottle turned on me
I've tried everything
But nothing sets your memory free
I'm serving life here in a prison
That we once called a home
With a heart that's cold and heavy as a sack full of stones
With the world upon my shoulders
And my feelings on my sleeve
Every time I close my eyes at night
All I do is watch you leave
But by far the biggest curse of being left alone
Is draggin' around a heart that's heavy as a sack full of stones
Yes by far the biggest curse of being left alone
Is draggin' around a heart that's heavy as a sack full of stones
song performed by by Travis Tritt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Falstaff's Lament Over Prince Hal Become Henry V
One that I cherished,
Yea, loved as a son -
Up early, up late with,
My promising one:
No use in good nurture,
None, lads, none!
Here on this settle
He wore the true crown,
King of good fellows,
And Fat Jack was one -
Now, Beadle of England
In formal array -
Best fellow alive
On a throne flung away!
Companions and cronies
Keep fast and lament; -
Come, drawer, more sack here
To drown discontent;
For now intuitions
Shall wither to codes,
Pragmatized morals
Shall libel the gods.
One I instructed,
Yea, talked to -alone:
Precept -example
Clean away thrown!
Sorrow makes thirsty:
Sack, drawer, more sack! -
One that I prayed for,
I, Honest Jack!
To bring down these grey hairs -
To cut his old pal!
But, I'll be magnanimous -
Here's to thee Hal!
poem by Herman Melville
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Bright Side Of The Road
From the dark end of the street
To the bright side of the road
Well be lovers once again on the
Bright side of the road
Little darlin, come with me
Wont you help me share my load
From the dark end of the street
To the bright side of the road
Into this life were born
Baby sometimes we dont know why
And time seems to go by so fast
In the twinkling of an eye
Lets enjoy it while we can
Wont you help me sing my song
From the dark end of the street
To the bright side of the road
From the dark end of the street
To the bright side of the road
Well be lovers once again
On the bright side of the road
Well be lovers once again on the bright side of the road
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sackcloth
I made sackcloth my garment once, by cutting
arm and neck holes into a burlap bag.
A croker sack they called it. Sackdragger
they called the man who dragged a croker sack
between the cotton rows to pick. He dragged
a gunnysack behind him in the ditch
collecting empties. Him they chose
the Likeliest to Sack Seed in the feed store,
or to suck seed. He was your daddy. He sacked
groceries part-time, and they jeered:
you sorry sack of shit. Sackcloth,
which Job sewed upon his skin, was goat hair.
God who clothed the heavens with such blackness
said, I make sackcloth their covering.
Isaiah understood. God had him speak a word
in season to the weary. Speak, Isaiah, now, to me.
Before the stars like green figs in a windstorm
drop, the sun is black as sackcloth, and the moon
becomes as blood. My soul is weary. Speak,
Isaiah. Sing. I was a scholar as a boy:
I cut the neck and arm holes into the burlap,
pulled it on, and cinched it with a hank of rope:
what I have done from then till now is itch.
poem by Brooks Haxton
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Fins So Beautiful
Where did you come from,
With fins so beautiful...
How did you land up here,
With fins so beautiful...
Beautiful in color,
so beautiful that you share...
Why and how did you come here?
Tell me, where did you come from?
This is a place where you don't belong,
Tell me, where did you come from?
So that I can take you to the place-the place that is your own
This place is dirty-dirty and black
Don't stay here,
Or your fins may turn dark
Go away 'cause you don't belong-here in this sack.
Where did you come from with fins so beautiful?
Why did you come here with fins so beautiful?
Your beautiful-bright fins will turn ugly-dark,
You don't belong here in this sack
Go back to the place that is your own,
'cause this is not where you belong.
poem by Shreeya Dhakal
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7 Weeks
Go
So your still the same, there's nothing left in me
Do you really think that we could save this?
Now get off your feet and really do something
Do you really think it matters anyway?
You said that we were fine, your lying all this time
Your the thorn that's in my side
7 weeks go by, it's so hard to say goodbye
Take your thorn
Take your pills so you can feel more of this and more of me
Don't shut that door in my face
Do you really it matters?
Do you really think it matters anyway?
You said that we were fine, your lying all this time
Your the thorn that's in my side
7 weeks go by, it's so hard to say goodbye
Take your thorn out of my side
My side, my side
Take your thorn out of my side
My side, my side
Take your thorn out of my side
You said that we were fine, your lying all this time
Your the thorn that's in my side
7 weeks go by, it's so hard to say goodbye
Take your thorn out of my side
Side
Go
song performed by by Inme
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Does It Make You Weep
Take what you value,
And put it in a sack.
Leave it where it's at,
And don't look back.
Why does it make you weep?
When you made it were you sleeping?
Take what you value,
And put it in a sack.
Leave it where it's at,
And don't look back.
Look around and see what's on the streets.
That reality you made to keep.
Why does it make you weep?
When you made it were you sleeping?
Look around and see what's on the streets.
That reality you made to keep.
Why does it make you weep?
When you made it were you sleeping?
Take what you value,
And put it in a sack.
Leave it where it's at,
And don't look back.
Why does it make you weep?
When you made it were you sleeping?
Take what you value,
And put it in a sack.
Leave it where it's at,
And don't look back.
Look around and see what's on the streets.
That reality you made to keep.
Why does it make you weep?
When you made it were you sleeping?
Take what you value,
And put it in a sack.
Leave it where it's at,
And don't look back.
Unstrap and remove those shackles.
It's an addiction you've got to detach...
And avoid interaction.
And avoid interaction.
And avoid interaction.
And avoid interaction.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Apache Rose Peacock
Sittin' on a sack of beans
Sittin' down in New Orleans
You wouldn't believe what I've seen
Sitting on that sack of beans
Lunatics on pogo sticks
Another southern fried freak on a crucifix
Hicks don't mix with politics
People on the street just kickin' to the licks
Yes my favorite place to be
Is not a land called Honah Lee (MI.)
Mentally or physically
I wanna be in New Orleans
Oh good brother just when I thought
That I had seen it all
My eyes popped out
song performed by by Red Hot Chili Peppers from Blood Sugar Sex Magik
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Only One Horrible Thorn
I like to cry and throw a fit
Even the dark day I was born
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn
I did not like people around
I would sit, curse at them and scorn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn
My heart could never feel the love
Deep inside I felt sad and torn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn
People still tried to get close to me
I would open my mouth and warn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn
I will never show a smile
This is an oath that I have sworn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn
But the day will come, I will die
Then haunt people after they mourn
I am a sad and drooping rose
With only one horrible thorn
poem by Paul Celano
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Last Moment
Surrounding mountains
With shady blue colors
Descending clouds
Kissing to the breasts of mountains
The sun sleeping evening
Harmonizing sensitive beauty
Birds flew with
leg behind night fall
A hard worked laborer
With a sack of retails
Walking along the road
And entered into a bar
Counting the money in the pocket
An Embarrassed couple
Creating a silhouette picture
Forgetting everything a side of the road
Darkness with time
Coming as a policeman
Chased way
Deleting the beauty and reality
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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What the Ghost of the Gambler Said
Where now the huts are empty,
Where never a camp-fire glows,
In an abandoned cañon,
A Gambler's Ghost arose.
He muttered there, "The moon's a sack
Of dust." His voice rose thin:
"I wish I knew the miner-man.
I'd play, and play to win.
In every game in Cripple-creek
Of old, when stakes were high,
I held my own. Now I would play
For that sack in the sky.
The sport would not be ended there.
'Twould rather be begun.
I'd bet my moon against his stars,
And gamble for the sun.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Out Of Work
I'm the out of work builder I love to work and create
I'm out looking for work early mornings
Theres always a man by my gate
He asked me to come to his office
He's from the Mr. Brown
Maybe he's got nothing better to do to me he's just a clown
He said your cut early morning
And most times your out all day well I was just trying
To explain but he just wanted to stop my pay
So when you go out looking for work keep looking to ou back
Because Mr. Brown is watching you I wish he'd get the sack
To watch him every morning, I'd watch him every day
I'd even give him a job so I could sack him and stop it's pay
poem by M. Whitehouse
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