Exhausted
Exhausted.
From the high cost of living,
Charity giving and donated sweat.
Let's you and me,
Set aside some time so we...
Can get busy!
Exhausted!
From daily fears warned,
And people torned
Between what's right and wrong.
Let's you and me,
Cast aside those trivialities.
Getting butt naked...
And doing as we please,
Getting busy!
Exhausted...
From creditors who call,
To arrange bill payments!
The neighbors barking dogs,
And arguments not making sense.
Let's pretend we have none at all,
And get busy after dating for lunch...
Easing these tensions,
With the headboard banging against the wall.
Busy like rabbits and making catcalls.
Are you exhausted,
By those images I recall?
Me too!
And I am so glad you didn't dare me,
Like your eyes were wishing for those days
Like I do!
We both know we're too...
Busy to get naughty,
Like we did before age 40.
When we come to that line we'll cross it.
Next time!
But right now we're both much too exhausted!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Busy
I am busy
you are busy
we are busy
but the old woman needs help
to find her way home.
I am busy
you are busy
we are busy
but the dove is too slow
to fly out of the way.
I am busy
you are busy
we are busy
but the children crossing the street
are too many.
I am busy
you are busy
we are busy....
I am busy
you are busy
we are...
busy.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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The Barreness Of A Busy Life
Beware the barrenness of a busy life.
(Socrates)
bored as barren
a body that is bone-dry,
a walk in the desert,
dry as dust,
moistureless existence
lips parched,
a thirsty soul,
a life waterless
busy, busy, busy,
that is what you are.
beware, for soon
in seeking life
busy, busy, busy,
you lose it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Busy Bodies
So you think that you have seen her
When youre lying in between her
And you tell me that you dont care
Busy bodies getting nowhere
Evrybodys getting meaner
Busy bodies
Caught in the concertina
You check her outline
Break her regulations
You watch her legs through several
Service stations
Busy bodies
Very busy
Getting nowhere
Nowhere, nowhere, nowhere
Now youre ready for the merger
With the company youre part of
And you do the dirty business
With your latest sleeping partner
Youre becoming
Automatic
Busy bodies
Out playing with the traffic
You want attention
You try my patience
With the best intentions you are nothing but a nuisance
Busy bodies
Busy busy
Getting nowhere
Nowhere, nowhere, nowhere
Now youve given your performance
Though the matinee was idle
And you find that a wave of her right hand
Could seem so tidal
Just a second
Satisfaction
Busy bodies
Temporarily out of action
You wash and brush up
You want to dress up
You want to kiss her
But shes busy with her makeup
Busy bodies
Very busy
Getting nowhere
Nowhere (x6)
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Too Busy
Too busy rushing to get to the next 'high'.
Kept addicted and detached.
To busy too disconnect,
From anything associated with accountability.
Too busy entertaining delusions kept met,
With no regrets of dismissing a seriousness.
Too busy they are protesting,
A reality of life just met and upsets.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Unexpected....
there are things that we cannot
but accept
bitter pills to swallow because
they say they make us well
and there are things too that we must throw away
because they are too sweet
and can kill us
sometimes in doubt
because of too much noise in the diversity of opinions
and we have become exhausted of those ever busy hours
making our own
and listening to all the chatters of the air
we simply stop doing anything
we sit and take the quiet
at this moment we become too light
as we empty whatever we think we have
and we realize
this is good this is another beginning
we have become new
and young again
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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So what are you doing with your life now?
She says
She stares blankly on the wall
She is busy
Counting the lamp posts on the streets
She is so busy
She thinks God is preparing something
Grand for her and she is so busy
Too preparing something for God
Who prepares for her.
I am amazed
I ask her
“So, did you stare long enough on that blank wall
Was it really blank? Did you really stare?
What made the wall so blank? Is the stare really
Worth making on a blank wall?
And how many lamp posts have you counted?
Is the street filled with lamp posts?
How is God? When will the preparation last?
How are you doing with God? Is God busy too? ”
She is a little bit understanding to my way of thinking.
“There you are making a poem again. You have never changed.”
She said.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Call The Law
Step, step 2 the mic, huh
Not yet
Step, step 2 the mic, huh
Step 2 the mic and taste the hype
Its manifested, this blessed gift, I had 2 bring it right
So let me dive right in
Where do I begin? hmm, well, let me...
Call the law (call the law), were gettin busy yall (were gettin busy yall)
Call the law (call the law), were gettin busy yall (were gettin busy yall)
Call the law (call the dogs), were gettin busy yall (were gettin busy yall)
Call the law (call the law), were gettin busy yall (were gettin busy yall)
(ho, ho, ho, ho!) (alright) {repeat}
(ooh) the law, they come around when everyones having a ball
And by the way, that reminds me of a party yall
North side minnie, twin cities, mid-summer on the scene
And my people get busy fryin up the bird (get the chicken, baby)
Word, whoever heard of a party bein ready without a money makin pot of spaghetti (ha ha ha)
Yeah, what u laughin at?
Im sellin liquor plus some plates at $7 a crack
Huh, and thats profitable
And 4 a sucker like u, thats a mouthful
Hmph, u better call the law cuz we gettin extreme
Pick it up p
Call the law (call the law), were gettin busy yall (were gettin busy yall) {x4}
(ho, ho, ho, ho!) (alright) {repeat}
Alright
Yeah
(man, I dont know what the hell yall sellin)
(fellas, yo, what u doin now? ) (what u doin tone? )
Boy, I aint turning down nothing, this is my place
U know what Im sayin?
Homeboy
Back 2 the scene, the basements packed
Buddy at the front door breakin backs
Thats security ensuring thee
The best possible time 4 u and me, yeah
The partys jumpin (ho, ho, ho)
Everybodys bumpin 2 rock creek park when (ho, ho, ho)
Bo and his girl got silly (whatd she do? )
Jumped up on my chandelier and got busy, yeah
He had 2 snatch the ho (what? )
We got geo in the background screamin, here we go, here we go!
Yeah, the tempos upbeat
Hollywood swingin at the end of the bar
He began singin, if I didnt care...
Yeah, u better call the law (call the law)
Were gettin busy yall (were gettin busy yall)
(ho, ho, ho, ho, here we go, here we go!) (alright) {repeat}
Yeah, thats alright
Give it 2 me, come on
Yeah, mm hmm, alright
Mmm hmm, yeah
Kick it p (u better call the law)
Im outta here, yeah
Peace
Alright, alright
Call, call the law, alright
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Busy
hectic ecclectic that's a busy week
a little bit of this and a little bit of that
but the ends made never really met
busy people busy lines
coping day by day
a fee to add to membership fines
life's not ok...not ok
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Busy Signal
By: dolly parton
Busy signal
Thats what I get when I call you
Busy busy
Talking to someone new
I wish I knew
I shouldnt worry cause its probably his mother
Or then again it could even be his little brother
On the line
Making me lose my mind
Hang up hang up hang up hang up
Come on hang up hang up hang up
Gotta talk to my baby
Gotta tell him Im sorry
Busy signal
How can I tell him Im sorry
When I said I didnt care
I didnt mean a word I said
Talking outta my head
Ive got to reach him now and tell him that I love him
And from now on Ill stay right by his side and love him
All the time
So please somebody quit tying up the line
Hang up hang up hang up hang up
Come on hang up hang up hang up
Gotta talk to my baby
Gotta tell him Im sorry
I didnt mean to hurt you baby
I really really love you baby
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I’m a busy man, I earn as I can
I’m a busy man, I earn as I can
Never bother who created man
I enjoy life as I can
People tell me, Get up early
I sleep late,
So go to hell
I’m a busy man, I earn as I can
Somewhere I read,
pray to god
I don’t have any time for that
I’m a busy man, I earn as I can
Mother says take care of health
I say most important is wealth
I’m a busy man, I earn as I can
Preachers preach,
Never be phony, Live honestly
I say fool as many
Being honest is being lousy
I’m a busy man, I earn as I can
My goal is money
Even if have to kill somebody
Life without money
Is bee without honey
I’m a busy man, I earn as I can
I met with an accident
Nobody lent a helping hand
I realized, I was disliked
I thought with all the might
To make life happy
One has to live rightly
Greed is worst for life
With it one can never rise
I’m a changed man
Contentment is my ambition
Now, I never earn as I can
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Elisha Cook was a darling, and full of the devil. A wired - up little fellow who was always busy, busy, busy.
quote by Marie Windsor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Diction Addiction
Busy wizzy likes to move it
Busy wizzy likes to prove it
‘I want to make a figure to hail
I want to make a mast to sail
To sail and sing a hymn or chant
I’ll evenly rhyme or slightly slant
Cause I’m busy wizzy I like to move it
I’m busy wizzy I like to prove it’
Busy wizzy likes to paint it
Pedant precise with a masking tape
You think it’s cool, so cool ain’t it
To sit on a die with an ode to an ape?
‘I’ll rape some locks Alexander style
Fairy full cushions for a dame or two
Just sit on a die and wait a while
With verses and cations sitting too.
Cause I’m busy wizzy I like to move it
I’m busy wizzy I like to prove it’
Busy wizzy likes to make it
To look so nice anyone can get it
But it’s not cool not cool to fake it
So please if busy don’t be at it.
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Dragonflies
Dragonflies
why so busy,
why so many?
Is there anyone of you
who can tell your stories?
Dragonflies
why so busy,
why so many?
are you working,
or just playing?
Dragonflies
why so busy,
why so many?
why don't you come
and rest beside me.
Dragonflies
why so busy,
why so many?
Is there anyone of you
who wants to hear my story?
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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On A Treadmill
On a treadmill, designed by him, the one who fills our life with sin,
Making us too busy to seek God, while we agree and simply nod.
He is the enemy of the Cross, and wants to fill our life with dross,
As we go about another day, in that same old frenzied, busy way.
We may even be busy for Christ, but, too busy, comes at a price,
As the enemy then fills our life, through the busy with undue strife.
While today bleeds into tomorrow, which leads hearts into sorrow,
As his goal from the very start, is overwhelming a believer’s heart.
That treadmill which has no end, in essence, is the time we spend,
With at times no peace of mind, to be found within the daily grind.
Adding simply one more thing, more stress it only seems to bring,
All with no apparent end in sight, while we seek to do what’s right.
Just like Martha spent and frayed, with a heart that’s so dismayed,
Working her fingers to the bone, but, sad to say, she is not alone.
Feverishly working without peace, with burdens that do not cease,
Not at all like her sister Mary, who had lived her life rather contrary.
For Mary’s choice was the best, for living this life we need to rest,
Within our Savior’s loving hand, while we live in such a weary land,
Taking on His yoke which is light, as we learn to do all that is right,
Getting off the treadmill of life, and into the Peace of Jesus Christ.
(Copyright ©05/2008)
Believe it
I can't believe we are still trying
I can't believe we are still crying
Can you believe We still believe
That it's all worth the trying
That it's all worth the crying
We cant hide from masking
That covers scars on the heart
We can't hide from this hurting
That is fucking tearing us apart
Believe it,
It's happening through our eyes
Believe it,
There is no hiding through our lies
I'm exhausted from running
I'm exhausted from not breathing
There is no use in denying
That our dream is dying.
poem by Jay Aguiniga
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The Three Great Stimulants
I picked the morning paper off the floor
It was full of other peoples little wars
Wouldnt they like their peace
Dont we get bored
And we call for the three great stimulants
Of the exhausted ones
Artifice, brutality and innocence
Artifice and innocence
No tanks have ever rumbled through these streets
And the drone of planes at night has never frightened me
I keep the hours and the company that I please
And we call for the three great stimulants
Of the exhausted ones
Artifice, brutality and innocence
Artifice and innocence
Oh and deep in the night
Our appetites find us
Release us and bind us
Deep in the night
While madmen sit up building bombs
And making laws and bars
Theyd like to slam free choice behind us
I saw a little lawyer on the tube
He said, its so easy now, anyone can sue.
Let me show you how your petty aggravations can profit you!
Call for the three great stimulants
Of the exhausted ones
Artifice, brutality and innocence
Artifice and innocence
Oh and deep in the night
Appetites find us
Release us and blind us
Deep in the night
While madmen sit up building bombs
And making laws and bars
Theyre gonna slam free choice behind us
Last night I dreamed I saw the planet flicker
Great forests fell like buffalo
Everything got sicker
And to the bitter end
Big business bickered
And they call for the three great stimulants
Of the exhausted ones
Artifice, brutality and innocence
Artifice and innocence
Oh these times, these times
Oh these changing times
Change in the heart of all mankind
Oh these troubled times
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hairdresser On Fire
Here is london, giddy of london
Is it home of the free -
Or what ?
Can you squeeze me
Into an empty page of your diary
And psychologically save me
Ive got faith in you
I sense the power
Within the fingers
Within an hour the power
Could totally destroy me
(or, it could save my life)
Oh, here is london
Home of the brash, outrageous and free
You are repressed
But youre remarkably dressed
Is it real ?
And youre always busy
Really busy
Busy, busy
Oh, hairdresser on fire
All around sloane square
And youre just so busy
Busy, busy
Busy scissors
Oh, hairdresser on fire
(only the other day)
Was a client, over-cautious
He made you nervous
And when he said
Im gonna sue you
Oh, I really felt for you ...mmm...
So can you squeeze me
Into an empty page of your diary;
And supernaturally change me ?
Change me, change
Oh, here in london
Home of the brash, outrageous and free
You are repressed
But youre remarkably dressed
Is it real ?
And youre always busy
Really busy
Busy clippers
Oh, hairdresser on fire
All around sloane square
And youre just too busy
To see me
Busy clippers
Oh, hairdresser on fire
(only the other day)
song performed by by Morrissey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The funeral
My death would be a piece of news,
Or utmost a surprise or a relief
And in no way a pain or a grief.
Inmates would be busy for my dispatch,
Some would weep and some would be gloomy
As they are there supposed to.
Heirs would be busy in sorting my things.
To see me off, all are busy;
Thank God, I am not there to see.
08.02.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Busy
Everyone I called today
only a few words to say
'I am so busy'
Are you so busy that when your friend needs you
you turn them away.
How many times must I call you until I never do again?
No one will listen and everyone is so busy.
Stop and listen to a friend even if its a minute of your day.
It may be all they need so let go of your selfish ways.
Take a minute to hear there needs.......
Take a minute to be sincere....
It may be you next time? Be a true friend....
poem by Sita Cabrera
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The Swift Wings Of Time
haven't you learned
your lesson? you call a friend
he is busy attending to a new born child
you call a cousin
he is getting married and busy preparing for
his wedding
the last one you call
had already gone to the U.S.
on a care giving job
a niece has just flown to
Canada
bringing with her
a family of her own
now
you accept it as a fact again
you are on your own trail again
left out by the swift wings of
time
wondering if
you have something to hold on
and
survive...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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