Shovels, And Whores!
shovels and whores!
cant get nothing done,
for digging people out
in way too deep,
and loaning money to whores
for their crack rock pillows,
their babies crying
with hunger cursed lips.
addicts and losers,
prisoners put out,
to work the streets, or die.
and the unemployed breed
with despair driven need,
old people eating dogfood
with plastic spoons....
fight and give, eyes in the back
of your head, back to the wall...
shovels and whores,
all God's children gotta live!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Hey
Hey
Been trying to meet you
Hey
Must be a devil between us
Or whores in my head
Whores at my door
Whores in my bed
But hey
Where
Have you
Been if you go I will surely die
Were chained
Uh said the man to the lady
Uh said the lady to the man she adored
And the whores like a choir
Go uh all night
And mary aint you tired of this
Uh
Is
The
Sound
That the mother makes when the baby breaks
Were chained
song performed by by Pixies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Guernica
Watch me at war really up
You wanna hurt me stop the row
We both are stitched up now
We're hard with fear hard speak up
You wanna hurt me stop the row
We both are stitched up now
We're whores sit down
We're whores that's us
He wanted us he swore and all we've got
You wanna hurt me stop the row
We both are stitched up now
We're hard with fear hard speak up
You wanna hurt me stop the row
We both are stitched up now
We're whores sit down
We're whores that's us
Simple lives yeah we don't have
We pack up in truth it seems this
Peacemakers has arms that hold fear
See gargoyles can you see the wonder?
Yes I fear the carbine
What does never wrong mean?
That's right
Every one of us he swore so hurry up
You wanna hurt me stop the row
We both are stitched up now
We're hard with fear hard speak up
You wanna hurt me stop the row
Both of us are stitched up now
We're whores sit down
We're Whores
That must mean sinful eyes that maim of fear
It's the look that stings I fear boy
Being distrusting I trust no one
They've been back down for nothing
It was never shared it's ours
We will know those names who follow
song performed by by The Stone Roses from B-sides & Other Songs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Guernica
Guernica is in fact made of stone backwards.
Watch me at war really up
You wanna hurt me stop the row
We both are stitched up now
Were hard with fear hard speak up
You wanna hurt me stop the row
We both are stitched up now
Were whores sit down
Were whores thats us
He wanted us he swore and all weve got
You wanna hurt me stop the row
We both are stitched up now
Were hard with fear hard speak up
You wanna hurt me stop the row
We both are stitched up now
Were whores sit down
Were whores thats us
Simple lives yeah we dont have
We pack up in truth it seems this
Peacemakers has arms that hold fear
See gargoyles can you see the wonder?
Yes I fear the carbine
What does never wrong mean?
Thats right
Every one of us he swore so hurry up
You wanna hurt me stop the row
We both are stitched up now
Were hard with fear hard speak up
You wanna hurt me stop the row
Both of us are stitched up now
Were whores sit down
Were whores
That must mean sinful eyes that maim of fear
Its the look that stings I fear boy
Being distrusting I trust no one
Theyve been back down for nothing
It was never shared its ours
We will know those names who follow
song performed by by Stone Roses
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Arrest
Jesus got arrested
down on fourth street
for taking in, and
associating with
whores, addicts, thieves,
and losers....
i didnt have the money
to go His bail...
so i sent Him a file,
a pack of Marlboro's,
and a tract from the
local Baptist Church....
complete with the address
for donations...
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Every government is a parliament of whores. The trouble is, in a democracy, the whores are us.
quote by P.J. O'Rourke
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rhyming Poem
the goldfish sing all night with guitars,
and the whores go down with the stars,
the whores go down with the stars
poem by Charles Bukowski
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I Had a Nightmare
Dr. King had a dream that we all would live in
peace with equality. I had a nightmare and in
this nightmare the streets were paved with the
blood of our young. The sky was lit up with the
sparks from the bullets that our youth fired at
one another. Ones whom came from the heritage of
African Kings and Queens are now crack whores and
dope fiends. Also in the nightmare that I had
there were millions of children who did not know
who were their dads? These same children spent
more time on the street corners breaking rules,
than going an educating their minds in school.
They ended up graduating from the streets to jail
or the grave. Yes, it is their blood that now
stains our streets. I wish I was like Dr. King
and had a dream. Instead of this nightmare that
is reality.
That Hole Is Not Of Our Making
Although their fingerprints appear,
On the shovels used to dig themselves...
Into a hole so deep,
Those still digging can not be seen...
The ones standing above it and looking below,
Wish to have the ones they have deceived...
Believe they had nothing to do with it.
'But it is clear to everyone,
Your fingerprints appear on the shovels.
And your hands and pockets are covered with dirt.'
~We've only come to sample the richness of it.
But that hole is not of our making.'
'Can you explain why the ones in the hole below,
Have chosen to scream out your names?
Begging to be rescued from their predicament? '
~We too are mystified just like you.
However...
We have come together to insist,
Everyone should participate...
To free us from this embarrassment.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Whores of a Disposal Culture
Why would a people willfully give away
Bits and pieces of a heritage so rich and timeless...
Or become isolated and indifferent
As to not prepare for their own survival?
Why would a people playfully disregard,
Foundations of strength those unrelated
Claim as their own?
Even prostitutes have a price,
For services not rendered!
Can it be no one sees,
The whores of a disposable culture?
Uniting to release idle pleasures,
Giving away treasures...
Ancestors from the cradle of life,
Sought to keep within the family? !
Why would a people willfully give away
Bits and pieces of a heritage so rich and timeless...
Or become isolated and so indifferent
As to not prepare for their own survival?
Hiding behind the social ills of desperate times,
Masked and hard to find...
And yet not regretting signs that warn of quicksand,
Are the whores of a disposable culture.
Hip hopped,
And drugged out...
As a fading society,
Supplies upon demand!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Whore Wars
Miles and miles
Away from me
Down the city
Down the streets
Between the flats
In the rooms
Amongst the people
Lust and desire
There is a war
By the whores
poem by Marota Aphane
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Insults of Nuts
The insults of nuts,
Grows alarmingly steady!
Actions studied...
To divide their own self interests.
With mocking digressions,
From the desks of professionals...
Reflects the very best
How they upset their nests
Back slapping 'nappy' jokes,
In achieved grotesque comments
About whores in jest!
And in the mind that finds this just,
Is a deep seated need to lure
Others who will abuse
With the same driving lust.
But trust has been busted!
People of all kinds have become disgusted.
Money chases away common sense...
When people become convinced,
They are above reproach!
Until luxuries to offend the defenseless...
Come with reprimand and end! €||: -Þ
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To me you are
To me you are the woman
that walks up and down
at the traffic light
and smiles almost shy,
when I look up
and still give a view
of her breasts
To me you are
the hunger and pain,
that I hear in the voices
of children in back streets
where they loose all courage.
To me you are
the crippled gum sniffing children,
that swing walk
with eyes without hope.
To me you are the vagrant,
that struggles along shuffling
and worries about the next
sleeping place and food
and smile without teeth
when he gets a few coins.
To me you are the beggar
who stands unobserved
at a busy traffic light,
while cars are streaming past
where nobody knows or comprehends
his despair.
To me you are the drug dealers
who hangs out in clubs
and look whom they can still catch,
with their contaminating
deadly poison.
To me you are the street thug,
that brakes car windows with bricks
and steal the valuables of people
and sell it at only a Rand or two.
To me you are the criminal
that steals cars in the streets
and are happy
with the despair,
that he is dealing out unscrupulous.
In reality you are the big city
that gives and takes,
where people live like termites
past each other
and rowed in,
as if others do not exist
To rather stay far away from it all
and to get rest and peace there
at times wants to take predominance,
but I love you
like a husband does his wife.
In you is where
some people still build dreams
and wish and live
and have an own place.
In you I see children
giving bread to birds
and people,
giving money to car guards.
In you are places
where people are making a living
and really help each other
and still I believe,
that in places in you
there are more good than evil.
poem by Gert Strydom
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How Far Above It Can Not Being Of It Be?
After many decades spent,
Living lives on dwindling cash...
And value placed on cards,
Made of plastic...
Senses seem to be coming back,
To minds lost...
In luxurized strife and hustle.
People are finding,
That a basic life can be lived happily.
And detached from rusting things,
Overtaxed!
To come back to oneself,
With renewed understanding...
Is a gift!
People are finding,
A walk through nature...
Can be relaxing.
A quiet park visited...
Can be more welcomed,
Than the constant sounds of flapping lips.
And people arguing over redundant nonsense.
As if attached to habits no one wishes to break.
People are finding themselves.
Realizing crack addicts,
Dope fiends...
And other reflections of their environments,
Had only been an elevator ride away.
As they tried to rise above it.
But...
How far above it,
Can not being of it be?
And...
How far into the woods,
Can one breathe without a tree?
How far away...
How far above...
How deep below...
Can one go,
To be in this 'experience'...
And not of it be?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This Picasso Imaginable Thing...
two faces of a woman 7: 32 AM
ah 7: 32 AM
picasso 7: 32 AM
mooo 7: 32 AM
ah 7: 33 AM
is that what it is 7: 33 AM
pain and happiness? 7: 33 AM
wa ko kabalo ana 7: 33 AM
picasso has a painting of a woman with two faces 7: 33 AM
i hav seen picasso's work 7: 33 AM
havent you seen it? 7: 33 AM
never realized that 7: 33 AM
yes cubism 7: 33 AM
he explained that to me while we were in barcelona spain 7: 34 AM
(har har har) 7: 34 AM
hahahha 7: 34 AM
good one 7: 34 AM
poor bald picasso 7: 34 AM
travel jud ang mind 7: 34 AM
still having lots of erections despite his ugly legs 7: 34 AM
mao ba? 7: 35 AM
hoe did u know that/ 7: 35 AM
how 7: 35 AM
the indefatigable picasso 7: 35 AM
wow 7: 35 AM
we were in the brothels of paris with alexander pope 7: 35 AM
hahaah 7: 35 AM
mahilig jud ang artist no 7: 35 AM
honestly, i have the book 7: 35 AM
good 7: 36 AM
the writers in europe sometimes find themselved in reunion and communion with whores and drink red whores beer together 7: 36 AM
yes! Edgar Degas too 7: 37 AM
my fav
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Head For The Barricade
FIGHT, FIGHT
FIGHT, FIGHT
FIGHT, FIGHT
FIGHT, FIGHT
Sometimes you gotta fight for your right
When your not sure you're in a fight for your life right?
If you ain't packin any tactics
You might get ass kicked
Even if you are you little knucklehead
I'm kinda sick of being aggravated
I'm glad I'm hated
I guess I'm doing something right
But that's what happened back in Columbine
You gotta know when to stop
And not go over the top
Cause there's a chamber deep inside the brain
It's covered with chains
So don't be shaking them loose
And if you do I'll be running for the hills
Cause I'm ready to rock and now we're playing for real
I gotta
FIGHT FIGHT
You better watch out when my adrenaline kicks I gotta
FIGHT FIGHT
IT'S TOO LATE, YOU ALREADY BEEN HIT, DAMN!
STICK 'EM STICK 'EM
STICK 'EM HA HAHA STICK 'EM
STICK 'EM STICK 'EM
YEAH! (Head for the barricades)
STICK 'EM STICK 'EM
STICK 'EM HA HAHA STICK 'EM
STICK 'EM STICK 'EM
YEAH! (Head for the barricades)
This world can make you stick to your stomach so I
Put on my headphones, listen to the Deftones
It's getting crowded in my spaceship
Living in a dream
Running from the hate machine
You know it's,
Such a drag when there's people talking down to ya
Such a drag when everything sucks do ya,
Walk away with spit on your face or do ya,
Draw lines and give them a taste cause I,
Know it's never gonna end
If it happens again I'm going straight for the throat
Another note
Don't forget you had a chance
Now I'm over the sidelines and ready to dance
I gotta
FIGHT FIGHT
You better watch out when my adrenaline kicks I gotta
FIGHT FIGHT
IT'S TOO LATE, YOU ALREADY BEEN HIT, DAMN!
STICK 'EM STICK 'EM
STICK 'EM HA HAHA STICK 'EM
STICK 'EM STICK 'EM
YEAH! (Head for the barricade)
STICK 'EM STICK 'EM
STICK 'EM HA HAHA STICK 'EM
STICK 'EM STICK 'EM
YEAH! (Head for the barricade)
IF YOU GOT THE GUTS (Head for the barricade)
Then come on down (Head for the barricade)
IF YOU GOT THE GUTS (Head for the barricade)
Then come on down (Head for the barricade)
AND HEAD FOR THE BARRICADE
FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT
GET UP GET UP
FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT
GET UP GET UP
FIGHT
HEAD FOR THE BARRICADE
I ain't playin around
HEAD FOR THE BARRICADE
I ain't playin around
HEAD FOR THE BARRICADE
STICK 'EM STICK 'EM
STICK 'EM HA HAHA STICK 'EM
STICK 'EM STICK 'EM
YEAH! (Head for the barricade)
STICK 'EM STICK 'EM
STICK 'EM HA HAHA STICK 'EM
STICK 'EM STICK 'EM
YEAH! (Head for the barricades)
song performed by by Limp Bizkit
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Anymore # 4
so where lies the truth?
and where lies the answer?
do we kill the soul
to get at the cancer?
we've marched to their beat, danced to their tune.
if forever is coming, it cant come too soon.
with hollowed out eyes, needles and spoons.
politicians for change, prophets of doom....
the windows closed, no air in the room....
take it to the streets, it's high noon!
and as the wind blows hard on freedom's shores,
we stare in the mirror, and unlock the door.
our sons their victims, our daughters their whores,
we're not gonna take it anymore!
.........just not gonna take it anymore!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Give Me A Cause To Fight For
Give me a cause to fight for I'll fight for it as long as the cause is worthy and just
As long as the cause it does not entail violence or secrecy that does lead to mistrust
As long as the cause is of benefit to others like the forgotten children of the lesser god
Poor refugees who flee from war and famine the Stateless and the homeless and downtrod.
Give me a cause to fight for I'll fight for it though not in any violent way I'll fight
On Human Rights one never should stay silent to live free of persecution should be everybody's right
Even in some so called Democratic Countries political prisoners are being tortured and subjected to the worst of mental as well as physical abuse
All crimes against humanity are abhorrent and for them there cannot be an excuse.
Give me a cause to fight for I'll fight for it as it should be every Human Being's right to live free
Of religious and racial discrimination and of hunger, Homelessness and poverty
We often hear in post war propaganda they have their freedom now that the war is won
But those who say such things never realize that freedom never does come through the barrel of a gun.
Give me a cause to fight for I'll fight for it though I'll fight the fight with words and words alone
I am not without sin I am just a sinner so I won't be the first to cast the stone
In this so called age of enlightenment people's Human Rights upon are still trampled and bad things happen behind the prison wall
So give me a cause to fight for and I'll fight for it I will speak out for a fair go for all.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Somethings Gotta Give
Somethings gotta give,
Somethings gotta give
Somethings gotta give
When an irresistible force such as you
Meets and old immovable object like me
You can bet as sure as you live
Somethings gotta give, somethings gotta give,
Somethings gotta give.
When an irrepressible smile such as yours
Warms an old implacable heart such as mine
Dont say no because I insist.
Somewhere, somehow,
Someones gonna be kissed.
So en garde who knows what the fates have in store
From their vast mysterious sky?
Ill try hard ignoring those lips I adore
But how long can anyone try?
Fight, fight, fight, fight, fight it with all of our might,
Chances are some heavenly star spangled night
Well find out as sure as we live
Somethings gotta give, somethings gotta give,
Somethings gotta give.
Fight, fight, fight it with all of our might,
Chances are some heavenly star spangled night
Well find out as sure as we live
Somethings gotta give, somethings gotta give,
Somethings gotta give.
Somethings gotta , somethings gotta give
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fight It Back
On them white horses
We come marching through the fields
We think were kings
When we come across the field of deeds
But we should know
That the trophy that we carry is the head
Of mi brother that has paid with his life
And now he is dead
We got a typhoon on the rise
Typhoon on the rise
We got a typhoon on the rise
Typhoon on the rise
We gotta fight it back
We gotta get it on the run
We gotta fight it back
Here comes the future
The fire thats burning as bright as the sun
Fight it back
How come we cant realize
That what we do in this is wrong
We got to get of this ship of fools
It will sink before long
We cant accept that
The man of wetbones is still on the streets
We have to get our act together
And get up on the feet
We got a typhoon on the rise
Typhoon on the rise
We got a typhoon on the rise
Typhoon on the rise
We gotta fight it back
We gotta get it on the run
We gotta fight it back
Here comes the future
The fire thats burning as bright as the sun
Fight it back
song performed by by E-type
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sunnyside, Pretoria revisited (in answer to I.L. de Villiers)
On the street corners, in the dark back alleys
whores cackle,
some black women glance lusting at me,
poor children are watching me in hunger,
without pants form behind trellis fences,
deeply moved I notice here,
how my country is falling into disrepair,
doctor Mamba's advertisement is pressed into my hand.
[Reference: "Distrik ses herbesoek" (District six revisited) by I.L. de Villiers. Doctor Mamba refers here to a witchdoctor]
poem by Gert Strydom
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