En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Old Men (No One Knows

old men rust and creak,
in their bodies, in their souls;
wrinkle into their chairs
till neither is one....

having paid every penny
of the price of life,
rung up, and forgotten.....

shadows without purpose,
untouched in the cold.

every brick laid seamless,
without distinction,
or identity....

old men wrinkle into their chairs,
and no one knows.

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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AH......Wrinkle Wrinkle Little STAR

Wrinkle wrinkle little star
How far from smooth
You really are,
I've wished upon you
Many times
Your only answer
Is groovy lines,
To WRINKLE rid I've tried
Every way it seems
Avocados lemons cucumbers
An' fancy cream
No way will I ever be
A wry sly slinky fox
And masquerade
With a face of Botox,
On second thoughts
I'll obtain a creamy tan,
An' thank the lord
I still have my old man,
Who by my side will always stay
For he, s too sweet to run away,
An' here's another he has one leg
Shorter than the other!

poem by Ken e Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Souls And Rain-Drops

Light rain-drops fall and wrinkle the sea,
Then vanish, and die utterly.
One would not know that rain-drops fell
If the round sea-wrinkles did not tell.

So souls come down and wrinkle life
And vanish in the flesh-sea strife.
One might not know that souls had place
Were't not for the wrinkles in life's face.

poem by Sidney Lanier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Paid The Price

See notes below
Well Im sick and tired
Of your alibis,
And your indiscreet lies
Just wont get you by,
Over and over and over and over again.
And your family,
Your forced superiority,
Your azure delusions of grandeur,
Are gonna cut you free,
Over and over and over and over again.
Youre as cold as ice.
Ahh, youre not miss nice,
And I paid the price.
Ahh, you can count me out.
Oh, without a doubt,
I paid the price.
And up and down, round, round you go,
But you know one monkey
Dont stop no show.
Its plain to see
Youre in need of help,
But I just cant go on
And whip myself
Over and over and over, over again.
Ahh, you can count me out.
Ahh, without a doubt,
You know, I paid the price.
Ahh, youre not miss nice.
Youre as cold as ice,
And I paid the price.
Yes I did.
You know I did.
And I just wanna know
Whos your sponsor.
I just wanna know, oh,
I just a-wanna know, oh,
I just a-wanna know, oh,
Whos your angel.
{backup singers} [i paid the price.]
Sing the song.
[i paid the price.]
[i paid the price.]
[i paid the price.]
And dont discriminate your angel.
[i paid the price.]
And dont discriminate your sponsor.
[i paid the price.]
And be good to your angel.
[i paid the price.]
Bow down to your angel.
[i paid the price.]
Hey, hey!!
[i paid the price.]
Dont discriminate your angel.
[i paid the price.]
And dont discriminate your angel.
[i paid the price.]
Dont discriminate your angel.
[i paid the price.]
Dont discriminate your sponsor.
[i paid the price.]
Bow down to your angel.
[i paid the price.]
Bow down to your angel.
[i paid the price.]
Bow down to your angel.
[i paid the price.]
Uhh, be good!
[i paid the price.]
Be good to your angel.
[i paid the price.]
I tried for to blow it. (? ? )
[i paid the price.]
I tried for to blow it (? ? ), one more time.
[i paid the price.]
I tried for to blow it (? ? ), one more time.
[i paid the price.]
If you blow it one more time, I say,
[i paid the price.]
Oh, youre as
Cold as ice,
And youre not miss nice,
And Ive definitely
Paid the price.

song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beach Chairs

Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the setting sun
holding hands and reminiscing
how it all begun

Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the ships out on the sea
holding hands and smiling
together we're meant to be

Sitting on the beach chairs
watching people walking past
holding hands and knowing
that our love will always last

Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the waves along the shore
holding hands we realize
our love is stronger than before

Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the changing tide
holding hands with happiness
to be by each others side

Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the sunrise
holding hands with tears of joy
there are no more good-byes

poem by Joyce Ebrecht
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Get Up

Heres a song for all the little men, who get forgotten
Trodden time and time again
Heres a message for the little guy, dont let this situation pass you by
Youre in the middle while the big mouths fight
You get it from the left and the right, aint it crazy
So get out of your easy chairs, weve got a lot to do out there
Well aint we
Goods gone bad but right is wrong and I dont know which side Im on lately
Get up from the down you are in
Come out of your homes and lets see your faces
Get up out of your easy chairs, get up and show em that youre there
Get up its your one salvation
Wise up to the situation
Somebody gotta get up and shout
Somebody gotta give us some clout
Youre the ones to make it all work out
It all depends on you
Get up off your arses men
Dont let em think youre getting lazy
Get up out of your easy chairs
We gotta lot to do out there, well aint we
Get up, get up, get up,
Get up, get up, get up

song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tower That Ate People

There's a bump in the basement
There's a knocking on the wall
In the pumping of the pistons
I swear I heard you call
There's a bump in the basement
There's a hole in the floor
There's a guard in the garden
Locking up the door
There's a rumble in the floorboards
No shutting out the sound
And the workers down below me
Digging underground
Feel the building all around me
Like a wrap of armoured skin
But the more we are protected
The more we're trapped within
Tell it like it is
Till there's no misunderstanding
When you strip it right back
Man feed machine
Machine feed man
Tell it like it is
Till there's no misunderstanding
You make up what you like
Man feed machine
Machine feed man
?
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building
Brick by brick by brick by brick we're building

song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Walking Tables

How do tables walk as one?
And why do chairs seem to run?
How my rest is desired, and how
Do I kick in the air for relaxation?
My chimney is found with the soot
Of a black utterance, as seemly as light;
The light travels up and down the world,
With smoke, crime is committed, like walking
Chairs and turning tables, this world is one.
With this house may I live alone,
Where wolves like criminals detest you.
Anyone walked a long distance, anyway,
Justice must be allowed, and searched
By the home and heaven.
How do tables and chairs move?

poem by Naveed Akram
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The King Of The Chairs

no matter how qualified
and competent is the king of the chairs

to the mind of the table
the king of the chairs
will always remain as only one
of its serving knights.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Library

Drowsing on the chair at six in the evening,
I sat in the library.
Attendant came to put the lights on.
Some chairs after days work were lucky to be empty,
While some were occupied.
I felt the chair feel uneasy.
Uneasiness passed on to the scholars
They moved here and there.
The chair cried in pain.
No one could hear, but I could feel
White dove the chairs messanger came
It shouted, "Let them rest".
Because what they were pursuing was not wisdom but knowledge
There dull minds were unaware
The dove went, I went too, but the chairs suffered there.

poem by Sanjay Mehta
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Headache

This wrinkle in time, I cant give it no credit
I thought about my space and I really got me down
(got me down)
Got me so down, I got me a headache
My heart is crammed in my cranium and it still knows how to pound
I was counting the rings
And I fell me into sleep
I peeked to see if you were way back when
I was counting the trees
Until a day when there was one
Id hoped beneath, asleep is where that you had been
This wrinkle in time, I cant give it no credit
I thought about my space and I really got me down
(got me down)
Got me so down, I got me a headache
My heart is crammed in my cranium and it still knows how to pound
Well, I found you
Maybe you can help me
And I can help you
This wrinkle in time, I cant give it no credit
I thought about my space and I really got me down
(got me down)
Got me so down, I got me a headache
My heart is crammed in my cranium and it still knows how to pound
Got me so down, I got me a headache
My heart is crammed in my cranium and it still knows how to pound
This wrinkle in time, I cant give it no credit
I thought about my space and I really got me down
(got me down)

song performed by by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Happy Heart

i

there are table
specially made for our kind

and some chairs too

they are made for
solo settings

ii

i sit on one of those
chairs
most often

and i eat on such
tables
more than what is
necessary

iii

sometimes people
stare at me

i eat alone, i sip my own cup of tea
alone

and it does not
really bother me

i am familiar with such
feeling
i am at home
and my heart is still a happy
place
for my dwelling

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Valse

How like a game of musical chairs
these fee-for-service systems
where profit is the goal, not service,
and people do not ask
'what can I do for you', but
'what is it worth to you? '
What can repair the sentiment once,
honest and pure,
lost?

How like a game of musical chairs
when bosses, cold to peoples losses
underwrite their profits with their blood,
caring only for their own and their constituents' enrichment,
and greed dazzles need
through the blandishments of advertisement
tv and the movies.
fa!

How like a game of musical chairs.
These fee-for-service systems.

Remove one chair, ok, you can still play.
Remove two, be glad it isn't you.
Take three, take four,
how, you wonder, many more
need pick up and move away.
Just sit down.
This is the way that cities drown
In lethargy and fun-
The emptier the drum
the further it resonates
still the music plays!
Outsource for cheap labor and complain of China?
fa!
But, of course,
there will always be a chair for the boss.
And a nice one.
Not very poetic?
Perhaps not. But poetry is sometimes more than boats on lakes.

poem by Morgan Michaels
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Relaxation Of A Native Woman

the night is very cold here
on top of Mt. Malindang

the old woman sits on the ground
(there are no chairs here)

puts her arm on her knee
and begins to roll a
leaf which she dried under
the sun the whole day

she tears a small portion of the tobacco leaf
rolls it on the other leaf and then she
lights the roll on the gas lamp

she puffs her smoke
to the moon.

everyone understands
what silence is all about

there are no more stories
from exhausted bodies

the souls are rested
on top of wilted grass

and then everybody is
fast asleep
for tomorrow's same work.

i am new here and i
am beginning to understand

what is this big mountain
all about?

why is it here
and why the people are not
at all complaining?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Moth To Flame, Or Flame To Moth?

two souls, one body,
two hearts, one breath.
the spirit made to fit the mouth....
the dream naked, hungers...

we are born inside
the faintest touch....
carried by a blade of hair,
the scent of a neck....

moth to flame,
or flame to moth?
one cannot exist
without the other!

cannot be complete
without mortar and brick...
laid perfectly seamless,
one lost inside the other!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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I'll Follow My Secret Heart

Don't be afraid I'll betray you
And destroy all the plans you have made
But even your schemes must
Make room for my dreams
So when all I owe you is pain
I'll still have something of my own
A little prize that's mine alone
I'll follow my secret heart
My whole life through
I'll keep all my dreams apart
Till one comes true
No matter what price is paid
What stars may fade above
I'll follow my secret heart
Till I find love
No matter what price is paid
What price is paid
I'll follow my secret heart
Till I find love

song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Another Poem

The rose wilts,
Petal by petal.
The candle melts
Flicker by flicker.
The human ages
Wrinkle to wrinkle.

At each insult
Hate grows stronger.
But each smile
Makes the devil weaker.

And we thought
We would be together
But we knew it was never forever
Yet we said 'never say never'
But does forever last ever and ever?

The butterfly
Is reduced to dust.
The sea cucumber
Throws up his guts.

The photo is taken
Another fake pose.
Of a memory
You'll hold close.

The wind outside howls and whistles,
Spreading the leaves and the thistles.
While I spin in my chair,
Catching the momentum in my hair.

poem by Mariam de Haan
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Fill the Bumper Fair

Fill the bumper fair!
Every drop we sprinkle
O'er the brow of Care
Smooths away a wrinkle.
Wit's electric flame
Ne'er so swiftly passes,
As when through the frame
It shoots from brimming glasses.
Fill the bumper fair!
Every drop we sprinkle
O'er the brow of Care
Smooths away a wrinkle.

Sages can, they say,
Grasp the lightning's pinions,
And bring down its ray
From the starr'd dominions:
So we, Sages, sit,
And, 'mid bumpers brightening,
From the Heaven of Wit
Draw down all its lightning.
Fill the bumper, etc.

Wouldst thou know what first
Made our souls inherit
This ennobling thirst
For wine's celestial spirit?
It chanced, upon that day,
When, as bards inform us,
Prometheus stole away
The living fires that warm us:
Fill the bumper etc.

The careless Youth, when up
To Glory's fount aspiring,
Took nor urn nor cup
To hide the pilfer'd fire in. --
But oh, his joy, when, round
The halls of heaven spying,
Among the stars he found,
The bowl of Bacchus lying!
Fill the bumper, etc.

Some drops were in that bowl,
Remains of last night's pleasure,
With which the Sparks of Soul
Mix'd their burning treasure.
Hence the goblet's shower
Hath such spells to win us;
Hence its mighty power
O'er that flame within us.
Fill the bumper fair!
Every drop we sprinkle
O'er the brow of Care
Smooths away a wrinkle.

poem by Thomas Moore
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Dying of non-expression

discuss me flat
carpets and a doormat
fill me fridge
buy me chairs
fix all repairs
love me so much
take me to lunch
let me get it straight
i am not great
not grateful at all
regardless of chairs
repairs and all the cares
when my hosts are gone
i just want to be alone
guess i'm my best
household guest
deep in the night
turning on the light
and finally begin
to write

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Brown Penny

I WHISPERED, 'I am too young,'
And then, 'I am old enough';
Wherefore I threw a penny
To find out if I might love.
'Go and love, go and love, young man,
If the lady be young and fair.'
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
I am looped in the loops of her hair.
O love is the crooked thing,
There is nobody wise enough
To find out all that is in it,
For he would be thinking of love
Till the stars had run away
And the shadows eaten the moon.
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,
One cannot begin it too soon.

poem by William Butler Yeats
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Reflection 0.3

when loneliness is overwhelming
miracles happen

tables speak to chairs and
chairs are amazed to their
new actions

the roof cannot be stopped
telling something to the floor

and the garden too and the fence
and the stair and all of them here

entangled in a relationship of such closeness
that you begin to stop thinking about how to end
and lose yourself

presences are born and they begin to speak
and it is you who has become one inanimate human figure

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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