Class Of 54
I saw an ad in the local paper
A reunion for the class of 54
I decided I would attend
I've never been to one before
It should be grand and lots of fun
So I rented a tux and black tie
Put new batteries in me hearing aid
Bought a wig and polished me eye
I emptied a bottle of old spice
Did me toupee nice with brylcream
I soaked me teeth in steredent
Then gargled with some Listerine
I soon arrived in splendid form
Smelling my very best
It was held in a hall at an old folks home
A place called the shady rest
It's the fortieth year and it's very clear
Every one's out to impress
Even the Janes that was always plain
Wore their most elegant dress
They came round with name tags
But didn't have one for me
Then suddenly I remembered
I was in the class of 53.
poem by Hazel Connelly
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Related quotes
So in my sophomore year, I took a senior anatomy class. I thought anatomy - being the thing that I should be most interested in - and if I could hack, as we called it, a senior class, I would continue. I didn't hack the senior class.
quote by James Earl Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Place Of The Heart
this place is not a room for sadness
sorrow is a stranger here
and cannot stay that long
there are no sonorous eyes here
not a place for emaciated cheeks
and unshaven beards
this is not the place for mourning
no one comes here wearing the black shirt
of fasting
this is the place for passion
(not promiscuity)
this is a private place for our shared whispers
the zip-less reunion
of two souls not wearing any name tags on their bones
when you come here
it is because
you have decided to be free
from morality from the mortality of your prisoners
welcome, bare yourself, brace yourself
for another experience
someone you love shall be summoned
to completely make you
home again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Zipless Reunion By Emma Z.
this place is not a room for sadness
sorrow is a stranger here
and cannot stay that long
there are no sonorous eyes here
not a place for emaciated cheeks
and unshaven beards
this is not the place for mourning
no one comes here wearing the black shirt
of fasting
this is the place for passion
(not promiscuity)
this is a private place for our shared whispers
the zip-less reunion
of two souls not wearing any name tags on their bones
when you come here
it is because
you have decided to be free
from morality from the mortality of your prisoners
welcome, bare yourself, brace yourself
for another experience
someone you love shall be summoned
to completely make you
home again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Gay Party's
Get invited
am near sited
to a gay party
for free
3 in the morning
didn't get a warning
that everyone is Gay
are they?
The girls seem nice
are as sweet as spice
and all the guys
have nice thighs
I tried to see clear
I didn't see anything queer
really felt fine
had a grand time
poem by David Darbyshire
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Plain Jane Country
(eddie raven)
I read your letter just this morning
The first you've wrote since you've been gone
You've finally found yourself a home
You've bought a new car, a great big red one
With a top that rolls right down
You must be something in san fransisco
A dressed up, painted country clown
You're fakin' it well, but it's easy to tell
You're plain jane country come to town
The pace is too fast and you're out of your class
You're plain jane country come to town
You know i love you, at least you ought to
I've loved you all of my livin' days
You got no business makin' changes
Yeah girl, i love your country ways
Go sell that red car, catch an airplane
And i'll be waiting when you land
Yeah, get a white dress, find a preacher
We'll get some rings to fit your hand
You're fakin' it well, but it's easy to tell
You're plain jane country come to town
The pace is too fast and you're out of your class
You're plain jane country come to town
You're plain jane country come to town
You're plain jane country come to town
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everything Is Kiling Me....
As soon as you're born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career
When you can't really function you're so full of fear
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you're so clever and classless and free
But you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
There's room at the top they are telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
If you want to be a hero well just follow me
poem by Adnan Zahedi
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Working Class Hero
As soon as you're born they make you feel small,
By giving you no time instead of it all,
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school,
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool,
Till you're so f***ing crazy you can't follow their rules.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years,
Then they expect you to pick a career,
When you can't really function you're so full of fear.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV,
And you think you're so clever and classless and free,
But you're still f***ing peasants as far as I can see.
A working class hero is something to be,
A working class hero is something to be.
There's room at the top they are telling you still,
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill,
If you want to be like the folks on the hill.
A working class hero is something to be.
A working class hero is something to be.
If you want to be a hero well just follow me,
If you want to be a hero well just follow me.
song, music by John Lennon, lyrics by John Lennon from John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band (11 December 1970)
Submitted by anonym
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Working Class Hero
(alan jackson/don sampson)
A callused right hand
Holds a shiny gold watch
For thirty years spent on the clock
But you wont see no tears
>from this workin class hero
Hes always been hard as a rock
But he knows hes too old
To really start over
Besides he just wouldnt know how
I guess hes just glad
That hes not alone
But hes got to wonder what now
cause theres no hall of fame for that working class hero
No statute carved out of stone
And his greatest reward is the love of a woman
And his children
So after hes gone
That old working class hero lives on
That three-bedroom house
He built in the 50s
Seems so much bigger today
With just him and mama
And not many bills
cause all of the kids moved away
What hes done with his life
Might not be remembered
But hes got every right to be proud
cause the blood sweatin years
Of this workin class hero
Is really what livins about
cause theres no hall of fame for that working class hero
No statute carved out of stone
And his greatest reward is the love of a woman
And his children
So after hes gone
That old workin class hero lives on
Yes, that workin class hero lives on
That workin class hero lives on
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heritage Hills Class Of Eighty-One
Heritage Hills Class of Eighty One
Here it is, the year two thousand eleven
Thirty years, thirty years, where did it go
Saddened to learn a few are gone on to Heaven
Heritage Hills Class of Eighty One
My, oh my, where did the time fly
Wow…victories, tears, joy, and fun
Being a grandparent is love not to deny
Heritage Hills Class of Eighty One
Some led the life of the moth to the flame
Many went on to higher knowledge
Knowing happiness in a life that's tame
Heritage Hills Class of Eighty One
One time Providence dealt us a course unknown
We handled it, conquered it, survived it
Now, we bask in seeing our children grown
Heritage Hills Class of Eighty One
Yes, we are middle aged and gray
A few aches, a few pains, but no complaints
It's class reunion time…oh what a great day
poem by Charles Hancock
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Class of 08
The class of 08 is the best
The class of 08 is above the rest
The class of 08 passed all there test so
The class of 08 will graduate!
poem by Kamilah Samuels
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Backlash Blues
Langston hughes, nina simone
Mr. backlash, mr. backlash
Just who do think I am
You raise my taxes, freeze my wages
And send my son to vietnam
You give me second class houses
And second class schools
Do you think that alla colored folks
Are just second class fools
Mr. backlash, Im gonna leave you
With the backlash blues
When I try to find a job
To earn a little cash
All you got to offer
Is your mean old white backlash
But the world is big
Big and bright and round
And its full of folks like me
Who are black, yellow, beige and brown
Mr. backlash, Im gonna leave you
With the backlash blues
Mr. backlash, mr. backlash
Just what do you think I got to lose
Im gonna leave you
With the backlash blues
Youre the one will have the blues
Not me, just wait and see
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Class has a sense of humor. It knows that a good laugh is the best lubricant for oiling the machinery of human relations. Class never makes excuses. It takes its lumps and learns from past mistakes. Class bespeaks an aristocracy unrelated to ancestors or money. Some extremely wealthy people have no class at all, while others who are struggling to make ends meet are loaded with it. Class is real. You can't fake it. Class never tries to build itself up by tearing others down. Class is already up and need not attempt to look better by making others look worse. Everyone is comfortable with the person who has class because he is comfortable with himself. If you have class, you've got it made. If you don't have class, no matter what else you have, it won't make up for it.
quote by Ann Landers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My First Kiss With You
my first kiss with you
was first class
like a mabuhay seat of the Philippine Airlines
when you left
my lips did not stay closed and vacant
there were more kisses in my life
lips upon lips like
sheets and sheets of paper on top of the other
but my first kiss with you
was ever the first unequalled
and when they kiss me when i am alone and lonely
it is your kiss that sticks in my mind
first class, the rest are nothing but
second rates, second hand, and less remembered.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What Money Can’t Buy
You look good and you know it too
Why no one is as pretty as you
You bought yourself a new car,
Fancy clothes, going to the bar.
High heel shoes, elegant jewels
Ready to party, no hard rules
You think you’re full of class
Your money says it’s so
Always on the go, spending that money
Well just remember this honey
Money can’t buy you class, happiness or respect
Not knowing what you’re doing, be careful what you get.
poem by Melvina Germain
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My first day in school
More than half a century ago,
the Monsoon showers had just brought relief from the sweltering summer,
just when I was dreaming of playing soccer whole day outdoors,
My Dad decided that I have to attend an elementary school.
I was dragged a mile by my older brother to my new school,
It would be my favorite Durga Temple converted into a school,
My dreams of a class with benches and chairs just vanished,
As we were sitting on the floor in open partitioned classrooms of the school.
I thought I would get a nice colorful uniform to wear to school,
but it looked like that the dress code was a futuristic dream,
At least every class had a black board bigger than my slate,
the teacher had a duster whereas I had to wipe the chalk with my hand.
The fear of some burly kids and nostalgia of home made me sad and homesick,
I could not stop crying and asking my teacher to let me go home.
I still remember the teacher with big black cane,
every time I cried to go home, I got a whack on my palm with his cane,
I could not stop crying, he would not stop whacking,
till I was sent in a distant corner for breaking the class rule.
Kneeling down in the corner, I dreamt of Mom and home,
I found comfort in the memories of joyous Durga Puja days,
I wished the Goddess would come alive,
and pierce the hands of the teacher with her big spear.
Finally the Tiffin time heralded the temporary recess,
the teacher came down and helped me open my Tiffin can,
He asked me to eat while he wrote something on my slate,
He hoped that it would keep me interested in his school.
After I finished my food, he handed my slate,
He had drawn a picture of a big smiling cat with whiskers and big tail,
He asked me to draw the cat on the other side of the slate,
I was so happy drawing the circles and lines whole afternoon,
I forgot I had a rough first day in school.
poem by Jay P Narain
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Where they belonged
When I was in metric
(now grade twelve)
in the agricultural science class
an English girl took a chair
next to me
who had a secret crush
without getting
any attention from me.
I just wasn’t taken with her
and she was a little brash
and they lived
on the other side
of the railway tracks
and she had a reputation
of sleeping around.
When we studied
animal copulation
she acted as if
she didn’t really understand
and asked me some questions
which made me blush
and it was clear
that she had other plans instead.
Ignoring her didn’t help much
and heart broken she went to cry
on her sister’s shoulder
who was my class teacher
and taught me English
at the time.
We did an IQ test
(the first in my years at school)
and I scored only too well
and without really knowing
my personal circumstances
the teacher told the class
that I was lazy,
but much more than that
she marked my English grades down.
I didn’t know what had got into her
and in the second quarter
like a angel from heaven
a female inspector
(specializing in English)
visited the school.
She couldn’t understand
why my marks had slipped so much
and we had a very nice chat
where she demanded
all my English books and tests.
She graded everything again,
my grades took a hike,
the teacher was called in
and almost did the same
and after that
my grades were where
they belonged.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Holiday
Holiday
Holiday
Hold it here boy is that your bag
In a small sneak and youve just been had
Is that your scene bin, been what have I seen
Well take a seat, feet, get your feet a seat
Put circle round this this and a circle round that
You put one in the front, and one in the back
Would you show it to your mother or share it with another
Slow down bitch
Oh bitch slow down
Im so good, Im so good, Im so good, man Ive been so good
Im so nice, Im so nice, Im so nice, man Im so nice
Holiday
Holiday
Im here to harass you, I want your pills and your grass you
You dont look first class you
Let me look up your ass you
I smell dope, I smell dope, I smell dope, I am smelling dope
I smell dope, I smell dope, I smell dope, I am smelling dope
Holiday
Were so good, were so good, were so good, man weve never been so good
Were so nice, were so nice, were so nice, man weve never been so nice
song performed by by Happy Mondays
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crying In Your Wedding Dress
The roads always run wet this time of year
Not with rain - with tears
Crying in your wedding dress
Tearing your hair out
The park was always freezing-over around now
Not with winter - with the pain
Of pulling off your ring
Screaming your lungs out
You wore that dress for 16 hours
You wore it too long
You wore it when you arrived
And you wore it when you woke up
I wore my invisible jacket
My invisible trousers
My invisible smile
All day
On our wedding day
The prototype for this event
The blueprint of this heart-ache
Is sketched so deeply in my mind
There was no other way it could be
On our wedding day
I was walking, drunk, stumbling
You were crying in your wedding dress
I was gone, I was never really there
You were crying in your wedding dress
I was broke for any feeling
You were broke for any hope
Crying in your wedding dress
On our wedding day
(2008)
poem by B. Alexander
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A Class
A beautiful morning!
It begins with delicious foods.
Multistoried buildings showing
an extra dignity to the dignified fellows are no doubt great.
Android, tablet, laptops performing
exciting activities are no doubt perfect.
A class! really higher class….
Yes, I also have these (Ha! Ha!) .
Suddenly, I placed my eyes into a boy.
He has a dusty sack except having a toy.
Now, I’m watching him deeply .
I got his face slippery.
He is a dweller of a slum.
Now, he want to make wet his tongue
seeking some food.
Do you know, what the expensive articles are in his bag?
He gathers your damaged glasses, your furniture’s, our toilet mug….
He wants to exchange it
to get his living a little bit.
Alas! What a class!
You know this class.
I will be happiest one
If I would get him a class.
He needs a class…….
poem by Bibhakar Dutta
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Toupee or not toupee
I lost a lot of hair and I wore a toupee.
But a freak gust of wind blew it off my head yesterday.
I couldn't afford a new toupee so I wore my cat on my head.
I thought it would fool people but it made them laugh instead.
When I saw that people knew that my cat wasn't a toupee, my face turned red.
That darn cat scratched, bit and even shit on my head.
poem by Randy Johnson
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