Only Within Their Reach
Many living inside their boxes,
Peek.
Not realizing dust collects,
Under their feet.
Or there is fresh air outside,
To breathe.
Although they believe,
The sky above them...
Is only within their reach.
And they from within their boxes...
Have the right to dictate,
How high others should fly...
At what height and pace.
And which dreams those they choose,
Are approved to seek.
As well as the ones they can also deny.
Although they secretly wish,
Their insecurities would free them...
To experience such ambitions.
But fearing many living inside their boxes,
Peek.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Elegy to Imagination
It seems it was just yesterday
When a tree
Was not a tree
Trees were in fact
Giants
Was it really that long ago
When my daddy
Was not only a daddy
But a superhero
A knight in shining armor
And a horse, all in one day
And boxes
Oh how wonderful they were
They were cars
And houses and trains
And beds and so much more
But now,
A tree is a tree
My dad is a dad
And a box
Sadly
Is a box
Where hath this imagination gone?
When did it disappear?
I'm not completely sure
Somewhere between childhood
And the present
But I have a passport
Back to the imagination
Of my childhood
When it gets dark
And the walls close in
At least my jacket
Is not a jacket
For a split second
It is a monster
But after a split second
I run out of time
And I am back
To the reality
That jackets are jackets
And boxes are boxes
Oh, how i miss
When boxes were train
poem by Mollie Myers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Old Gold Diggin' Geezer
Peek a boo doo peek a boo doo,
Peek a boo doo boo!
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
Peek a boo doo peek a boo doo,
Peek a boo doo boo!
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
You just wanna ride in my car.
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
And take you to places to feed your greedness.
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
Peek a boo doo peek a boo doo,
Peek a boo doo boo!
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
You just wanna have an easy life.
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
And you think I'm the one gon' give it!
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
Peek a boo doo peek a boo doo,
Peek a boo doo boo!
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
You ain't got a mortgage or a lease on me.
None that we've agreed upon.
And none that you can see.
You ain't got a ring or a title to keep me leashed up tight.
And what you think I've got,
You're not gonna get that close to take a bite!
With or without your teeth behind your 'grill'...
You old gold diggin' geezer!
Peek a boo doo peek a boo doo,
Peek a boo doo boo!
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
Peek a boo doo peek a boo doo,
Peek a boo doo boo!
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
You just wanna ride in my car.
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
And take you to places to feed your greedness.
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
You old gold diggin' geezer!
Poppa dada poppa.
Poppa dada poppa.
You old gold diggin' geezer!
Peek a boo doo peek a boo doo,
Peek a boo doo boo!
'I thought you said you were a friend to ALL people?
YOU are a fraud.
You ain't even a friend to some! '
Peek a boo doo peek a boo doo,
Peek a boo doo boo!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Peek-a-boo!
Peek-a-boo!
I can see you
And I know what you do
So put your hands on your face
And cover up your eyes
Dont look until I signal
Peek-a-boo! peek-a-boo! peek-a-boo!
The way that we werent is what well become
So please pay attention while I show you some
Of whats about to happen
Peek-a-boo!
I know what you do
Cause I do it too
Laugh if you want to or say you dont care
If you cannot see it you think its not there
It doesnt work that way
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hands
In lack of
red,
I paint
you in
blue. I do
put
away the knife
in the chest
of drawers.
The clothes are
clean
in the closet
under the bed
old
photographs bits of
dust &sweat sighs and moans
are withering,
in boxes.
like long not heard Bach's
toccata.
Staccato fucking and
kissing miracles
two familiar
faces are, stuck in
the boxes.
Here,
long
nothing's happening.
poem by Afrodita Nikolova
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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People have to talk about something just to keep their voice boxes in working order so they'll have good voice boxes in case there's ever anything really meaningful to say.
quote by Kurt Vonnegut
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Boxes
Every time we move,
we pack our little things in boxes,
and some inside our mind.
These are the special things;
we do no want to leave behind.
The special things we have,
that spell out love there.
The precious things we own,
that hold so many memories there,
whether they be large or small.
The little boxes we pack,
we make them all secure,
and mark them handle with care.
For nothing can replace,
the precious things we have there.
(20 June 2007)
poem by David Harris
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Peek-A-Boo
The cunningest thing that a baby can do
Is the very first time it plays peek-a-boo;
When it hides its pink little face in its hands,
And crows, and shows that it understands
What nurse, and mamma and papa, too,
Mean when they hide and cry, 'Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo.'
Oh, what a wonderful thing it is,
When they find that baby can play like this;
And everyone listens, and thinks it true
That baby's gurgle means 'Peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo';
And over and over the changes are rung
On the marvelous infant who talks so young.
I wonder if any one ever knew
A baby that never played peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo.
'Tis old as the hills are. I believe
Cain was taught it by Mother Eve;
For Cain was an innocent baby, too,
And I am sure he played peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo.
And the whole world full of the children of men,
Have all of them played that game since then.
Kings and princes and beggars, too,
Everyone has played peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo.
Thief and robber and ruffian bold,
The crazy tramp and the drunkard old,
All have been babies who laughed and knew
How to hide, and play peek-a-boo, peek-a-boo.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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What You Mean to Me
The Value of You
Never did I realize my need
To have you around
Never did I show appreciation of you
Never did I realize the value
Of your in-put
As spiritual guide or other
Never did I see your worth
Words were not enough
I knew you were hurting
I felt your pain
Never could I express myself
With all the negativity around
All issues were placed in boxes
And so were you
Never did I know where to place you
Now with all the other boxes were gone
I know where you belong
poem by Persian Khushi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Value of You
Never did I realize my need
To have you around
Never did I show appreciation of you
Never did I realize the value
Of your in-put
As spiritual guide or other
Never did I see your worth
Words were not enough
I knew you were hurting
I felt your pain
Never could I express myself
With all the negativity around
All issues were placed in boxes
And so were you
Never did I know where to place you
Now with all the other boxes gone
I know where you belong
poem by Persian Khushi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life is like a box of crayons. Most people are the 8-color boxes, but what you're really looking for are the 64-color boxes with the sharpeners on the back. I fancy myself to be a 64-color box, though I've got a few missing.
quote by John Mayer
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Boxes
On our first date he told me of
the box,
‘Pandora's Box',
would I have him open it or not?
Would I let him go that far?
Should we wait a while?
Would I let him lift the lid?
This kind of made me smile.
Boxes were his weapons
for such a life he'd led,
and to frighten little souls like mine
he'd wrapped a box to send.
What would I find within it,
what would its inners be?
Would I find some demons
or would I find a key?
So I thought on this a moment
and then I answered thus,
'If I asked you that question
would you hesitate or trust? '
With this he shrugged his shoulders,
he grinned and winked his eye.
'I'm not frightened of mere boxes
I dare you, do or die! '
So I told him 'Open it,
let its dust spill out.
for whatever lay beneath its lid
would edify, no doubt."
So he spilled out all its secrets
of pranks and devilry,
of worldliness and foolishness
like an artist's gallery.
I listened with wide eyes
to this colourful display
until the torrent ceased
and he put the box away.
Most people have their boxes
some large some very small
but the saddest people in the world
don't have a box at all.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Looking For A Leader
Fear inflicts the acceptance of restrictions.
And those afraid to carve their own independent way,
Facing obstacles and doubts...
Discover for themselves what life for them is about.
But will always feel inadequate,
When attempting to expose their own identity.
And unfortunately many living lives fearing,
Seek to be led.
With a looking for a leader approved by those...
Who only know what it takes to follow.
Since those who do have abilities to lead,
Are often opposed by the ones subjected to insecurities.
And people with those insecurities,
Seek those who are best qualified...
To represent the denying of every one of them.
Because the ones who express honesty and truth,
Always seem to threaten...
Those who do not.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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[motor Of Thought Resident Boxes]
motor of thought resident boxes
think outside and collapse
highest concrete dust teeth
ridiculous hepatitis
ducting vitamin like
blue and black birds
hemopheliac twigged pole.
I count nineteen of them.
You count seventeen.
with the world's weight combined
to travel
to our nearest star.
it would still take millions of years.
And all the years
killing and counting,
addicting and loving our friends,
and following collapsed boxes.
poem by Aaron Eliad
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You can see these boxes which are covered with metal foils for thermal reasons, and they are also, most of the time, thermally controlled inside to keep reasonable temperature inside each of these containers.
quote by Claude Nicollier
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Living Inside Myself
In my life
Ive felt so self assured
But suddenly its all changed
Shes a cloud
That hangs above my world
And I find myself wondring in the rain
And now I cant go on
cause I am lost
Living inside myself
Living inside this shell
Living outside your love
I am lost
Somewhere inside my own dreams
Afraid of what life really means
Living without your love
I need a guiding light
To shine on my darkest days
I was young, and time was on my side
But like a fool I let it slip away
And now those days are gone
And I am lost
Living inside myself
Living inside this shell
Living outside your love
I am lost
Somewhere inside my own dreams
Afraid of what life really means
Living without your love
In my life
Ive felt so self-assured
But oh how all the seasons change
And now Im not that strong
cause I am lost
Living inside myself
Living inside this hell
Living outside your love
I am lost
Somewhere inside my own dreams
Afraid of what life really means
Living without your love
I am lost
Living inside myself
Living inside this shell
Living outside your love
I am lost
song performed by by Gino Vanelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Diamonds In The Mine
The woman in blue, shes asking for revenge,
Man in white -- thats you -- says he has no friends.
The river is swollen up with rusty cans
And the trees are burning in your promised land.
And there are no letters in the mailbox,
And there are no grapes upon the vine,
And there are no chocolates in the boxes anymore,
And there are no diamonds in the mine.
Well, you tell me that your lover has a broken limb,
You say youre kind of restless now and its on account of him.
Well, I saw the man in question, it was just the other night,
He was eating up a lady where the lions and christians fight.
And there are no letters in the mailbox
And there are no grapes upon the vine,
And there are no chocolates in the boxes anymore,
And there are no diamonds in the mine.
(you tell them now)
Ah, there is no comfort in the covens of the witch,
Some very clever doctor went and sterilized the bitch,
And the only man of energy, yes the revolutions pride,
He trained a hundred women just to kill an unborn child.
And there are no letters in the mailbox,
Oh no, there are no, no grapes upon your vine,
And there are, there are no chocolates in your boxes anymore,
And there are no diamonds in your mine,
And there are no letters in the mailbox,
And there are no grapes upon the vine,
And there are no chocolates in your boxes anymore,
And there are no diamonds in your mine.
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Best Way To Avoid Publicity
The best way to avoid publicity in small towns,
Especially...
Where there are those who are quick to peek and probe.
Is to pretend to seek it!
That's right.
People living in small towns love to believe,
There are those living amongst them...
Who seek attention.
And there are very few people I know,
Who advocate the advertising for peace of mind.
People living in small towns,
Frown down upon others...
Just on general principle anyway.
Anything that does not conform to limitation,
Is ignored and left alone.
That's why many celebrities and other notables,
Choose these places to live to be shunned and go unnoticed.
And this feeling has a mutual understanding that is respected.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fresh Blood
All the neighbours never see me
But they wonder why I walk around at night
He gets hungry - I go hunting
In the moonlit streets
For somebody that's right
Fresh blood, a sanguinary feast Is all he's living for
And he craves it more and more
Showgirls, businessmen in suits in the midnight rain
If they walk alone are never seen again
In the paper, seems a florist
Found in Lincoln Park, died of some anemia
No one raped her, poor Doloris
Just detained her and drained her on the spot
Fresh blood, a sanguinary feast
Is all he's living for
And he craves it more and more
Old men, ladies of the night walking in the rain
If they walk alone are never seen again
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me
No one calls and no one visits
We're like a couplet out of Desolation Row
We don't want them to want to know us
'Cause when they do, they get a little bit too close
Fresh blood, a sanguinary feast is all I'm living for
And I crave it more and more
Bad girls, cops on the beat in the midnight rain
If they're out alone, are never seen again
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me, cry to me
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me, cry to me
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fresh blood (Lyrics)
All the neighbours never see me
But they wonder why I walk around at night
he gets hungry - I go hunting
In the moonlit streets
For somebody that's right
Fresh blood, a sanguinary feast
Is all he's living for
And he craves it more and more
Showgirls, businessmen in suits in the midnight rain
If they walk alone are never seen again
In the paper, seems a florist
Found in Lincoln Park, died of some anemia
No one raped her, poor Doloris,
Just detained her and drained her on the spot
Fresh blood, a sanguinary feast
Is all he's living for
And he craves it more and more
Old men, ladies of the night walking in the rain
If they walk alone are never seen again
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me
No one calls and no one visits
We're like a couplet out of Desolation Row
We don't want them to want to know us
'Cause when they do, they get a little bit too close
Fresh blood, a sanguinary feast is all I'm living for
and I crave it more and more
Bad girls, cops on the beat in the midnight rain
If they're out alone, are never seen again
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me, cry to me
Fresh blood it goes through me, flows through me
Fresh blood inside of me, cry to me, cry to me
poem by Satan's Sibling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Interselves
There are many who are into themselves.
Or know of those who are into theirselves.
He...himself.
And she,
Herself.
So much so...
There is no interself of selves shared.
Nothing clicking without hesitation.
Or a premeditative contemplation!
In divisions we decide to be kept to 'ourselves'.
In communal subdivisions sprawled and suburban...
We rush to keep locked inside of wooden and/or cement boxes.
There is no interselves connecting.
Only a caring for waste takes place.
Only a sameness unexplored yet assumed...
To keep pace.
To keep up.
To maintain beliefs.
But of what and why?
And for who do we do this?
If no one is in denial...
That God Himself has said...
Placed no other gods before Me!
Then why do we have before ourselves...
So much,
That we no longer can identify who we are?
And why we are and for 'Whom' to be...
Who we are!
There are many who are into themselves.
Or know of those who are into theirselves.
He...himself.
And she,
Herself.
So much so...
There is no interself of selves shared.
Nothing clicking without hesitation.
Or a premeditative contemplation!
In divisions we decide to be kept to 'ourselves'.
In communal subdivisions sprawled and suburban...
We rush to keep locked inside of wooden and/or cement boxes.
There is no interselves connecting.
Only a caring for waste takes place.
Only a sameness unexplored yet assumed...
To keep pace.
To keep up.
To maintain beliefs.
But of what and why?
We have long severed ties of communication.
Long denied that as a right for 'some' others to do!
And why is this done?
I am confused.
Is this done so I can get closer to you?
Is this done so you can get closer to me?
And if we have been doing this to get closer to God...
Why has that not been done?
If houses of God are everywhere for everyone!
But few are providing an interfaith of interselves...
And feeling welcomed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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