The Choice Is Yours
i cant take the gun
from your hand...
cant take your finger
from the trigger...
i cant cut down the rope
you've tied to the rafter....
i cant remove the darkness
you're clinging to with
all of your might....
the 'self' that's lying to you
stands in the way....
it seems easier to stay
in your cell... than
to break free and live....
but life is not what it seems!
you only have that which
you let go of.... only know
that which you reveal....
the choice is yours!
i stand here with a broom
waiting to sweep clean your cell....
with a prayer to take the empty nest
from the branches of your soul.
the choice is yours...
i can only walk beside you!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
To Make A Difference!
take your finger from the trigger,
lay down your gun...
you have a chance to make a difference....
make the right choice!
lower your hand, soften your voice,
let go of your anger...
you have a chance to make a difference...
make the right choice!
put down your checkbook, close the register,
do something you really feel....
you have a chance to make a difference....
make the right choice!
throw out your pill bottle and your pipe,
stand up and face life....
you have a chance to make a difference...
make the right choice!
turn off your tv and your computer,
get involved with someone in need....
you have a chance to make a difference....
make the right choice!
lay down your judgements and your pride,
see people as just people....
you have a chance to make a difference....
make the right choice!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cell Phone Mania
Cell phones to the right,
Cell phones to the left,
Cell phones, cell phones,
everywhere I look.
Red alert, stop! Listen,
shut up and drive,
shut up and read,
Cell phones, why so many.
Everyone talking,
cell phones in cars,
cell phones in bars,
eating places, cell phones.
There you can't escape
from them, you say
to yourself, the restroom,
no one would dare
use cell phone in there,
oh no, I hear someone,
talking to me, I answer them,
oh, sorry sir, did not know you
were on cell phone.
Oh, so many,
shut up, and walk.
Do away with cell phones,
and it would be like,
the crash of '29'.
People need cell phones,
sometimes their nice,
to have, but so many,
cell phones, might
as well join them
if you can't lick 'em,
join them.
Cell phone, cell phone
now how do I use this
thing, oh cell phone, cell phone,
Hello, Hello, oh that's
you mert.
wrote 1-19-07
I Am Not Your Broom
Now broom, you must now sweep for me
The dust it fills my room
No, john, I will not sweep for you
For I am not your broom
What nonsense are you speaking, broom
My words you must obey
Another life awaits me and
Im leaving you today
I am not your broom
I am not your broom
Ive had enough, Im throwing off
My chains of servitude
I am not your broom
I am not your broom
No longer must I sweep for you
For I am not your broom
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A stem cell is essentially a blank cell capable of becoming another, more differentiated cell-type in the body, such as a skin cell, a muscle cell or a nerve cell.
quote by Virginia Foxx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Vowing, To Be Better!
i am both the bullet,
and the victim.
the finger on the trigger,
the hand on the heart.
the hatred and the forgiveness,
the compassion that dares.
the sacred, and the demon,
the prayer and the scream.
both justice and injustice,
prejudice and understanding.
both ignorance and wisdom,
fearful, and a man.
i see both the light and darkness,
feel, touch, and taste them.
knowing that every breath i breathe,
is a choice!
every night i take off my image,
and examine my heart.
taking responsibility for my life,
and vowing, to be better!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Both (Darkness And Light)
every baby born,
both Jesus and Hitler!
both the slave,
and the slave owner...
both the cross,
and the gun!
both the sheep and the wolf,
both the fire, and the rain.
both the truth and the lie,
the spirit, and the profit.
both darkness and light,
both the cell, and freedom!
winds blown by choice,
choice molded by experience.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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To The Oppressor...
there are those without choices left
but to live in the comfort of the cave
you burned their houses and the only bridge
that connects to us
the river swells and crocodiles live there
there is no more way
for home,
there are those who commit the crimes
because a jail is home
it has become a shelter
where food is free
where peers are kind
where choices are none
there are birds which you put is so many cages
to your delight
they have no choice but to stay there till death
i have seen their bones and feathers
i have kept them all
in my home
sooner shall the Furies come,
bringing you the cage
the jail,
the cell where you shall dwell forever
then you shall know what songs are there inside the teeth
gritting
what bitterness is there
drilling pain to a tooth decaying
and you too shall have no choice
i shall see you pass,
i will keep your bones.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Solitude and the Teacup
Silhouettes
Two men
walk through the desert
forming silhouettes
against the orange sunset.
Solitude
A solitary figure
stands on an island
staring at the number
one.
Soul
Light shines upon a body
and casts the darkness of its soul
onto the ground.
Storm clouds approach
removing the evidence of sin.
Step
beyond the constraints of nonconformity
into recesses of impossibility
lies the incongruence of melancholy.
Stone Shadow
A stone shadow
fixated
upon the light
from the eclipse.
Suicide
A lost soul
dangles from a bit of rope
in an empty cell.
Supper
Every night
the family gathers
around the table
and says grace
over the cloud.
The Shoe
A shoe
goes to the mall
shopping
for a pair of humans.
The Shoes
A pair of shoes
go to the mall
shopping for a person.
Tea Cup
An empty tea cup
sits on my floor
and waits.
poem by Zachary Zuccaro
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New Broom
We need a new broom
To sweep it all clean
We need a beat boom
We need a new scheme
Break all the deadlocks
And spill all the beer
Mr ditko was right
Mr a so near
Break out the paints and the brushes
And spill out your hearts
No amount of soft soap
Can ever give you a fresh start
We are walking on a tight rope
We can slip beyond religion
The answers in your cranium
And not on independent television
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Choice of life
Human have a gift named a choice
Human have an illusion named a choice
There is no other creature that should decide more to live
Human have a hope called a choice
Human have despair called a choice
There is no other creature that trapped often in such continuous and repeat conflict
Some could turn good because one choice
Some could turn bad because one choice
All have the consequence but right or wrong will never be known before
Human have a wish for a choice
Human have regret for a choice
There is no other creature that always goes between happiness and sorrow
When a choice made not all may be satisfied
When a choice made not all may be rescued
But the change will never happened if we stay silent
Human have fate to choose
Human also choose their fate
The interaction of those things will create what people called the choice of life
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Breaking Free
A new life, for myself, I need to weave.
I need some oxygen, so as I can breathe.
From these chains, I need to break free;
I need the chance just to be totally me.
I need to escape now, from this prison cell;
Escape from this existence, I know so well.
Afraid of the world, in my corner, I cower;
I'm just like a bud, that's waiting to flower.
I can't go on like this forever and ever;
The storms in life, I will need to weather.
By your actions, my life has been affected;
I'm just like a child: my life is protected.
Sometimes it feels like I am suffocating.
For the perfect moment, I am still waiting.
You know that one day, I will go away;
Here, forever more, I just cannot stay.
Into my life, I need to let some light.
From this place, I need to take flight.
I need to try and overcome all my fears.
I need to have my own hopes and ideas.
I now need to have my very own space;
I need to live my life at my own pace.
One day, I will be a flower in full bloom,
And that ‘one day' may come very soon.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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I Am In This Cell
i am in this cell
to live some more i need a very secure and strong
cell wall,
tight in my silence and isolation everything will be safe & fine
nothing in nothing out
this is what it is all about.
i am a dead cell, now, not comes in nothing goes out
see, i am shrinking
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Try 4 (A Happy)
In my mind happy is a choice
You either choose to be happy or
you choose to get by
A life of horror's ritual or
a simple joy's choice
All held by the type of smile of nature's will
Lonely has a hold
Life never travels right
Yet what always stands, is choice
Never too late, the choice to try
Also is the choice to be happy
poem by Kelvin Owusu
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Chasing an Empty Car (episode 1)
I was a cop chasing an empty car.
Not to know what I would find in the car.
I was a man chasing my life.
Not to know what I would discover in my life.
To make a choice to be a hero,
I could chase this empty car myself.
To make a choice to be safe,
I could call for backup.
Would I sacrifice myself for my career?
Would I risk my life for better feeling at work?
I didn’t know if I would come out from it alive.
I didn’t know if I would stay on the life track.
In short time a lot of thoughts came through my mind.
In long period of my life I didn’t know I’d have a choice.
Sacrifice for innocents or runaway for sinners.
Minimizing the risk for everybody, I called for backup and kept chasing.
Sinner is always winner.
No matter what he always wins.
Stay on the track.
I recalled the paragraphs from the poem book.
All of sudden I heard some shots,
And my car was on fire.
Trying to pull the break and run out of the car.
I remember big noise and explosion.
I didn’t know if I made it.
Now I am standing in dark tunnel.
At the end of tunnel I see a light.
I was a cop chasing an empty car.
I was a man chasing a simple life.
poem by Sukhee Bukhbat
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Pick Up That Broom and Sweep, Boy
Pick up that broom and sweep, boy.
If you wanna eat.
You gotta get sweepin'
Pick up that broom and sweep, boy.
If you wanna eat.
You gotta get sweepin
And if you don't sweep,
You ain't going to sleep.
Pick up that broom and sweep, boy.
If you wanna eat.
You gotta get sweepin'
Pick up that broom and sweep, boy.
Nobody's peepin' on the way you sweep.
And if you don't sweep,
You ain't going to sleep.
And you wont sleep,
If you don't eat.
So I suggest get off your seat...
Grab that broom and commence to sweepin'
Pick up that broom and sweep, boy.
If you wanna eat.
You gotta get sweepin'
Pick up that broom and sweep, boy.
Nobody's peepin' on the way you sweep.
And if you don't sweep,
You ain't going to sleep.
And you wont sleep,
If you don't eat.
So I suggest get off your seat...
Grab that broom and commence to sweepin'
Pick up that broom and sweep, boy.
If you wanna eat.
You gotta get sweepin
And if you don't sweep,
You ain't going to sleep.
So don't try sneakin' tippy toe on your feet,
Across this floor because it creaks.
And when that happens...
My dog Pete,
Will do his best to sink his teeth.
Right into your funky meat.
And you'll go screamin down the street.
And I'll report you to the police.
Who will bring you back here...
Once again until you sweep.
And it you don't do it,
You'll join those who've been deleted!
'You better pick up that broom,
And sweep, boy! '
~I gotcha 'boy' ol'man! ~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I'm My Own Prisoner (Revised in Line Form and Viewable)
A demon walks free in my dreams.
Is it right he does so?
So many answers I shall never know.
Always alone in surroundings so compounding.
How do I wash my hands clean?
They continuously bleed.
It's like I have sickle cell anemia, but psychologically.
What is my methodology behind it all?
If I keep helping reaching out through all the crowds, does it make it easier? What is it and do I control it?
Is love that powerful.
Can it rule hate?
Can anyone relate to the these thoughts I constantly contemplate.
An empty soul behind an iron gate.
Locked away forever never be set free.
It's irony that I'm my own prisoner to protect the most evil and vile from harm. Most can't do what I'm doing they would snap like itty bitty twig.
Does that make me the better man?
I definitely hope it can cause if it don't I'm already damned.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Death Is Quite
Death is quite
Stands, waiting, watching
As your life flash’s
Before your eyes
He waits for you
To make the choice
Do you want to live?
Or do you want to die
In a flash
In a moment
You see highlights
Of your life
The good, the bad
The what ifs
And what you do have
Then one singular voice
Whispers softly in your ear
Reaches out to you
As he says his little prayer
Don’t let her die
Let my mum live
Eyes flutter open
A silhouette comes in view
Small head bent
Tear tracks spent
Then you know
Right then and there
I have a life to live
poem by Kaila George
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Choice Voice
Ideas, ideals, freethinking underlined,
no negligence can know whenever they
allow free range where spirit well designed
marks space to catalyse choice chance which may -
if choice is choice not circumstance designed -
new windows open through which interplay
another to another insight wind,
make constant progress, interwoven play.
Infinite voice, choice opportunities
new ground may break, stake scope, whole soul hope frees.
(17 February 2012)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The choice is not between conducting the stem cell research or not conducting it. That is not the choice.
quote by Roger Wicker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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State Of Illusion
Living in confusion
State of illusion
Tied in a knot
Of have and have what
Isit a pity
To desyroy a city
Dying alone
On the telephone
Hoping to see
Something in me
That will expell
Me from this hell
Sad to say
I'll die someday
Wish i could be
Happy and free
But as it is
I have no biz
Imagine that
To feed the fat cats
Crying away
Each lying day
Easy to see
This is just me
Life is a crime
I'm doing time
Inside a cell
My own man made hell
The world i'm in
Riddled with sin
To live each dy
Locked up this way
When there should be
Some therapy
To help the souls
Lost in their woes
State of illusion
A bad contusion
Dying away
Each lying day
poem by Talile Ali
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