Stretch and Do
If there are frowns on your brow,
And wrinkles you wish to quickly disappear.
Drink peppermint tea,
On a daily basis continually.
Get rid of that tension.
It's not yours to 'brag' about.
Discuss or mention.
Or there for you alone to carry!
To introduce undo attention.
Let go of this 'stuff' you did not marry.
And for your digestive track?
Try lemon juice in 'boiled' water...
Chilled it and just sit back,
Relax and get your energy on track!
Stretch and do,
Light exercises to get you through.
And within one week...
Someone will approach and ask you,
'What are you doing?
Have you had a facelift, too? '
And any aches and pains,
In your joints that remain...
Try vitamin E in 400 internation units.
For arthritist in your hands, legs and knees!
Listen and try this...
And eventually you will agree,
What I share with you will work!
Tell those 'jerks' who tell you differently,
Don't bother you with nonsense...
Since your life is to be enjoyed,
Not to moan about as they do...
Paying exorbitant fees,
Not to feel as great as you will...
Literally for free!
Like I say...
Allow at least seven days!
And after this period,
You will be amazed how much 'youth'
Has restored the 'you' you knew...
As you age!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Listen To The Eight Track
(mick, Ive got a...)
There must be one million stories in new york city, the naked city, and this is one of em
I live out on the island, and I got problems
My mom dont like me, cause she says I know sultan(? )
Sitting in the cark park, in my old buick skylark
Getting high, getting high,
Getting high on the eight track
Oh, listen to the eight track
Oh, listen to the eight track
Oh, listen to the eight track
Oh, listen to the eight track
Oh it aint easy, when you gotta survive
Keep on giving death, just to survive
Oh get out into the car park, sitting in my own buick skylark in the dark
Oh, n Ill listen to the eight track
Oh, Ill listen to the eight track
Oh, listen to the eight track
Oh, listen to the eight track
Yeah, cant wind it back
Listen to the eight track
In between the seats, in the cracks
Listen to the eight track
Oh sometimes I get a woman in here
And I put on bruce springsteens new double album
And then, just when everythings getting hot
I start turning the volume right down low
Baby, let me snuggle right next to you
You turned to me sweetly, you know what she said,
She said, turn up the eight track
Oh listen to the eight track
Oh listen to the eight track, aint no winding it back
Listen to the eight track
Listen to the eight track
Listen to the eight track
There must have been about a million stories in new york city, the naked city, and this has been one of them!
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Desiring More Aches
On a never ending quest,
To validate their negativity.
They are out there and scouting,
For new recruits.
To soothe their own insecurities.
And on pursuit to undo happiness too!
The moan and gripers with their complaints.
As if worshipping an evilness,
Within them.
And having no restraint.
Mention the goodness that life affords...
And they are quick to see the opposite,
With a welcoming of this inside their doors.
They will ignore anything positive said.
And still say it is God...
They pray to instead.
Yet ever pain they feel is wished to be shared...
With anyone who will listen,
Desiring more aches...
To carry in their heads.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Retired Boater
Thru the door....
Oh! Another floor.
This could be a bore
As I've done all this before.
Back on my knees
For me.
This WON'T please!
The aches and pain
To do this again
But it's for my brother
So I won't bother.
It's only two days
Of work, so no bother.
Soon back to the haze
Of my retirement days...
poem by George BernardBloodyShaw
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Green, Peppermint and...or Blueberry Tea
Squeeze fresh lemon or concentrate
Into a cup of hot water,
Where the tea brewing awaits.
Green, Peppermint and...or Blueberry tea,
Are good to sip and relax with...
When sitting peacefully.
They have properties to cleanse as well.
So many herbs like them do.
But if you want to soothe your mind and rest...
Have a treat,
Perhaps a bagel or croissant to eat.
And make this a daily thing you do.
Choose to do something different just for you.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Marry Me
He
Marry me marry me
Come and share my destiny
Pair with me
Dare with me
Stand up and declare with me
For we are now
Man and wife
Solemn vow
Made for life
I want you right there with me
Marry me
She
Marry me marry me
Come and share the best in me
Care with me
Bear with me
Raise another heir with me
For we are now
Ef = objr-vol3.html>oscar brown jrs set free -- volume three--married
Solemn vow
Throughout life
Home is where you carry me
Marry me
Both
We are now man and wife
Solemn vow
Made for life
Lovingly
Prayerfully
Marry me
Marry me
Marry me
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Aches and Pains
Aches and pains, joints a creaking
Driving me insane
Knees go crack, hips dislodge
I'm walking like John Wayne!
Lines and wrinkles, needs some filler
These creases need to go
I also need a miracle cure
For the pain in my big toe!
Boobs headed south, hair's gone thin
My bum has got too fat
Eyes can't see much anymore
I'm almost blind as a bat!
My hearings gone I need an aid
And now the battery died
This age that's creeping up on me
I really can't abide!
A Delivery Of An Accepted Life To Live
Those finding themselves annoyed?
Choose to be.
Those with heachaches.
And other aches and pains?
Wouldn't know what they would do,
Without them.
Those complaining on a daily basis?
Have been given too much attention.
And those in the business of others?
Have none of their own.
Leaving those entertained by gossip...
With nothing else to do but that in their lives.
There is just too much varieity.
Too much abundance.
Too much that is available...
For anyone to sit an expect,
A delivery of an accepted life to live!
And...
Confinement is only found defined,
In one's own mind.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Joyfully Serve
I prefer not to walk alone
As the journey may be considered as half gone
Enjoyed by one and shared by none
So it must be accompanied by someone
Not that it is must and necessary
Yet everybody wants to marry
Willing to share the burden and carry
Enjoy it with responsibility and remain merry
Stay as near as possible
Nothing to worry about troubles
As they may come and go
But we may certainly grow
No liability as has been put
As life is no short cut
Love is to rule and affection is to take over
Both may work as one and provide cover
It is not the quest for gain
It is to develop bond and remain
Together for life and share
The fruits of journey and dare
You may depart one day
But to show others the way
Presence may not be that important
Yet the result may be seen instant
Did you even see old couples?
Walking with sticks among people
No worry for death to take over
Yet with so much happiness there
I request all to shed differences, if any
Make it fine resolve to carry
Life till the end of curve
Beautiful end and joyfully serve
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Homeward Track
Once a year we lumber southward with the clip from Yarradee;
Spell the bullocks in the township while we run our yearly spree.
What's a bullocky to live for? Days of toil are hard and long;
And you'd not begrudge him yearly one short week of wine and song.
While it lasts he asks no better. When it's over 'Yoke 'em up,'
And we'll make another promise for to shun the brimming cup.
When we've done our little cheque in, and the township's at our back;
Then we start to think of mending - out along the Homeward Track.
For there comes a time of reck'ning when we're trudging by the team;
Back again to work an' worry; kind of waking from a dream;
We begin to see the folly of a week of wicked fun,
Bought with months of weary slaving, punching bullocks on the run.
But our views are somewhat tempered when we've done a twelve months' drouth;
And our thoughts ain't so religious when the team is heading south.
When the pleasure is before us, work and worry at our back,
We forget the grim reformers out along the Homeward Track.
What's the odds? It's got to happen. What we've done we'll do again;
And we know it while we make 'em, resolutions are in vain.
Life's a weary track to travel, mostly full of ruts and stumps:
Them that spends their days in drudging have to take their joy in lumps.
Yoke 'em up an' get a move on! Gayest times must have an end,
There's a weary track to travel when we've nothing left to spend.
If there's still a bob we'll wet it, and a last glad joke we'll crack,
Time enough for vain regretting when we're on the Homeward Track.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Got And Sought The Best Of Other Estimates
My body wanted to begin,
To breakdown too.
But I refuse to let it.
Or listen to others about their newly discovered,
Aches and doctored pains.
As if an aging like that was to be contained.
I don't think so!
I've got too many miles to go!
I guess I have a respect for life too much,
To just let 'any' mechanic get a look under my hood.
And I got and sought the best of other estimates.
With copies of xrays and scans to put right in their hands.
To keep my engine 'purring' as best as it could.
Knowing the abuse of my youthfulness spent...
I had to make sure,
I received the best recommendations...
To keep my travels on a road,
I am not yet prepared to stall on!
Or Fall to lay flat on my back off track.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Either Now...Or Later!
You are correct.
I could not agree with you more.
I have not been in touch with you.
Nor have I bother to call,
In a few months.
You have a song and dance routine,
I've seen and heard consistently unchanged...
For years.
Your ears remain closed to suggestions,
I propose.
And you say my life lived is delusional.
Since I choose to be uplifted and positive.
I find it incredible that someone like you,
Who quotes from scriptures.
And speaks in tongues with such fortitude...
That God would not listen with the utmost attention!
And your life would then have less,
Of a negative judgemental attitude...
Needing you to address.
Unless God and what I have to you to mention,
Isn't returning to you what your ears wish to hear.
The messages sent to you are ignored.
And your understanding of God,
Is a comprehension for you that isn't near.
However...
One thing I know is absolutely certain!
I am not as nearly as patient as God.
I have yet to be gifted with that kind of time to waste.
Or chase you in games of hide and seek,
While you take notes as to which quotes to provoke.
You are correct.
I could not agree with you more.
I have not been in touch with you.
Nor have I bother to call,
In a few months.
And right now a dialtone given to you,
From the bottom of my giving heart...
Is the only 'thing' I can see useful to you I can offer.
At least in my generous giving of it to you...
You can choose to quickly call someone else?
Either now...or later.
Or elect to sit...
In your own undisturbed quietness!
To you I hope a peace of mind comes.
Either now...
To appreciate.
Or later...
When only God knows,
Whether of not...
If this has been to your advantage.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Room #9
Come inside take a ride it's your lucky day
Start your car won't go far brain's on holiday
Think I got a hit do you want a hit? Yeah!
All you need is a little bit! Why?
Open up your mind look at what you find
Touch the sky
Think it's almost time do you see the sign? Yeah!
Tasted like a grape but it was a lime! Yum!
Looking at the rain on a sunny day
Vitamin A! Vitamin A! Vitamin A!
I can see you and me floating in the air
It's allright day or night life without a care
Think I got a hit do you want a hit? Yeah!
First I used a toke Now I wanna flip! Cool!
Open up your mind and look at what you find
Feeling free
Don't anticipate hurry up and wait Now!
In a little while you'll be feeling great! Wow!
There's so much to do there's so much to see!
Follow me! Follow me! Follow me!
Rainbow cotton candy cloud thinking thoughts and speaking loud
Point to me the right direction pass the mirrors and reflection
See yourself as broken glass smash the vision of your pas
Running forward - can't turn back
Trains of thought are now on track now my mind's of purple haze
Screaming out in silent rage hearing things for miles around
Listen closely can you hear?
Can you hear the sound? Can you hear the sound? Can you hear the sound? Can you hear the sound?
I think I got a hit! Do you want a hit? Yeah!
All you really need is a little bit why?
Open up your mind look at what you find
Touch the sky
Think it's almost time do you see the sign? Yeah!
Tasted like a grape but it was a lime! Yum!
Looking at the rain on a sunny day
Vitamin A! Vitamin A! Vitamin A!
song performed by by 24-7 Spyz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Troubles?
Your troubles?
You fed upon them to addict.
Aches and pains you carry to bear?
Your stubbornness ensured,
They would remain right there.
You listened but did not take,
Advice and suggestions...
From others you believed irritated.
And now you've discovered,
Those 'pity pits' you face...
Will not go away.
To be with you as if to stay.
Your troubles?
You fed upon them to addict.
Aches and pains you carry to bear?
Your stubbornness ensured,
They would remain right there.
Leaving those who once cared...
Not to!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The solicitude, tensionless
When in track bound race,
You are in tension.
When in time bound work,
You are in tension.
In code bound life also
You are in tension.
In fenceless terrace too
You are in tension.
Boundless is not ocean.
Boundless is not earth.
Boundless is not air.
Your solitude has no tracks.
Unto it if you merge,
You are not in tension.
07.07.2001, Pkd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Out Back
The old year went, and the new returned, in the withering weeks of drought,
The cheque was spent that the shearer earned,
and the sheds were all cut out;
The publican's words were short and few,
and the publican's looks were black --
And the time had come, as the shearer knew, to carry his swag Out Back.
For time means tucker, and tramp you must,
where the scrubs and plains are wide,
With seldom a track that a man can trust, or a mountain peak to guide;
All day long in the dust and heat -- when summer is on the track --
With stinted stomachs and blistered feet,
they carry their swags Out Back.
He tramped away from the shanty there, when the days were long and hot,
With never a soul to know or care if he died on the track or not.
The poor of the city have friends in woe, no matter how much they lack,
But only God and the swagmen know how a poor man fares Out Back.
He begged his way on the parched Paroo and the Warrego tracks once more,
And lived like a dog, as the swagmen do, till the Western stations shore;
But men were many, and sheds were full, for work in the town was slack --
The traveller never got hands in wool,
though he tramped for a year Out Back.
In stifling noons when his back was wrung
by its load, and the air seemed dead,
And the water warmed in the bag that hung to his aching arm like lead,
Or in times of flood, when plains were seas,
and the scrubs were cold and black,
He ploughed in mud to his trembling knees, and paid for his sins Out Back.
He blamed himself in the year `Too Late' --
in the heaviest hours of life --
'Twas little he dreamed that a shearing-mate had care of his home and wife;
There are times when wrongs from your kindred come,
and treacherous tongues attack --
When a man is better away from home, and dead to the world, Out Back.
And dirty and careless and old he wore, as his lamp of hope grew dim;
He tramped for years till the swag he bore seemed part of himself to him.
As a bullock drags in the sandy ruts, he followed the dreary track,
With never a thought but to reach the huts when the sun went down Out Back.
It chanced one day, when the north wind blew
in his face like a furnace-breath,
He left the track for a tank he knew -- 'twas a short-cut to his death;
For the bed of the tank was hard and dry, and crossed with many a crack,
And, oh! it's a terrible thing to die of thirst in the scrub Out Back.
A drover came, but the fringe of law was eastward many a mile;
He never reported the thing he saw, for it was not worth his while.
The tanks are full and the grass is high in the mulga off the track,
Where the bleaching bones of a white man lie
by his mouldering swag Out Back.
For time means tucker, and tramp they must,
where the plains and scrubs are wide,
With seldom a track that a man can trust, or a mountain peak to guide;
All day long in the flies and heat the men of the outside track
With stinted stomachs and blistered feet
must carry their swags Out Back.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Outback
The old year went, and the new returned, in the withering weeks of drought,
The cheque was spent that the shearer earned,
and the sheds were all cut out;
The publican's words were short and few,
and the publican's looks were black --
And the time had come, as the shearer knew, to carry his swag Out Back.
For time means tucker, and tramp you must,
where the scrubs and plains are wide,
With seldom a track that a man can trust, or a mountain peak to guide;
All day long in the dust and heat -- when summer is on the track --
With stinted stomachs and blistered feet,
they carry their swags Out Back.
He tramped away from the shanty there, when the days were long and hot,
With never a soul to know or care if he died on the track or not.
The poor of the city have friends in woe, no matter how much they lack,
But only God and the swagmen know how a poor man fares Out Back.
He begged his way on the parched Paroo and the Warrego tracks once more,
And lived like a dog, as the swagmen do, till the Western stations shore;
But men were many, and sheds were full, for work in the town was slack --
The traveller never got hands in wool,
though he tramped for a year Out Back.
In stifling noons when his back was wrung
by its load, and the air seemed dead,
And the water warmed in the bag that hung to his aching arm like lead,
Or in times of flood, when plains were seas,
and the scrubs were cold and black,
He ploughed in mud to his trembling knees, and paid for his sins Out Back.
He blamed himself in the year `Too Late' --
in the heaviest hours of life --
'Twas little he dreamed that a shearing-mate had care of his home and wife;
There are times when wrongs from your kindred come,
and treacherous tongues attack --
When a man is better away from home, and dead to the world, Out Back.
And dirty and careless and old he wore, as his lamp of hope grew dim;
He tramped for years till the swag he bore seemed part of himself to him.
As a bullock drags in the sandy ruts, he followed the dreary track,
With never a thought but to reach the huts when the sun went down Out Back.
It chanced one day, when the north wind blew
in his face like a furnace-breath,
He left the track for a tank he knew -- 'twas a short-cut to his death;
For the bed of the tank was hard and dry, and crossed with many a crack,
And, oh! it's a terrible thing to die of thirst in the scrub Out Back.
A drover came, but the fringe of law was eastward many a mile;
He never reported the thing he saw, for it was not worth his while.
The tanks are full and the grass is high in the mulga off the track,
Where the bleaching bones of a white man lie
by his mouldering swag Out Back.
For time means tucker, and tramp they must,
where the plains and scrubs are wide,
With seldom a track that a man can trust, or a mountain peak to guide;
All day long in the flies and heat the men of the outside track
With stinted stomachs and blistered feet
must carry their swags Out Back.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A wise man
How one can be called unwise?
if he wanted to change and revise
the old disorder for mutual advantage
to put back on track and efficiently manage
Do we lack some sense of respect?
have we ever tried introspect?
the fact remains there otherwise
the sun always come out of clouds and arise
It is bad concept to criticize
the basic inherent weakness we must realize
what looks nonsense some times may prove trustworthy
we must fall in line but not out of any sympathy
Everyone has been gifted with third sense
we need bother about it and remain tense
it is none of our business to look beyond
thought you may be a worried lot and really fond
The great scientists were taken as mad and moody
They had no business to work for somebody
yet they did it for mankind and humanity'
this making of man with very fine quality
It comes at a time when needed most
we can celebrate it with champagne and toast
as something has been done to alleviate the sufferings
though we may not agree to it and differing
Everybody has got right to pursue his own goal
He needs the same treatment as meted out to coal
the diamond can be extracted with deep drilling
the person can be taken along if he is positively willing
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lining Track
This song was first released on the all aboard! album. it is the only album it has been released on.
Mo boys, is you right
Done got it right
All I hate about linin track
These ol boys are gonna break my back
Mo boys, cant you line em (track a lack)
Mo boys, cant you line em (track a lack)
Mo boys, cant you line em (track a lack)
See eloise gonna line em track
Down in the holler below the fleld
Angels working on the chariot wheel
Mo boys, cant you line em (track a lack)
Mo boys, cant you line em (track a lack)
Mo boys, cant you line em (track a lack)
See eloise gonna line em track
Mary and the babe was a sittin in the shade
Thinking on the money that I aint made
Mo boys, cant you line em (track a lack)
Mo boys, cant you line em (track a lack)
Mo boys, cant you line em (track a lack)
See eloise gonna line em track
Moses stood on the red sea shore
Gotta batten down the waves with a 2 by 4
Mo boys, cant you line em (track a lack)
Mo boys, cant you line em (track a lack)
Mo boys, cant you line em (track a lack)
See eloise gonna line em track
Now if I could I surely would
Stand on the rock where moses stood
Mo boys, cant you line em (track a lack)
Mo boys, cant you line em (track a lack)
Mo boys, cant you line em (track a lack)
See eloise gonna line em track
Matthew, mark, luke and john
All them disciples dead and gone
Mo boys, cant you line em (track a lack)
Mo boys, cant you line em (track a lack)
Mo boys, cant you line em (track a lack)
See eloise gonna line em track
Mo boys, is you right
Done got it right
All I hate about lining track
These ol boys about to break my back
Mo boys, cant you line em (track a lack)
Mo boys, cant you line em (track a lack)
Mo boys, cant you line em (track a lack)
See eloise gonna line em track
Words and music by huddie ledbetter
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Deliciously Sipped
Scented mint and lilac drifts...
Rise to crest upon my senses.
As I pinch a piece of peppermint...
From a selected twig.
To twist with lemon peel.
And add for taste to rum I drink.
Deliciously sipped,
I sit back and relax.
To enjoy this treat that enhances a peace.
Increasing within me to allow daydreams.
Nothing more I convince myself of this...
Can be so good!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Twenty Five To Midnight
Train I ride don't be slow
If your whistle can blow
Fifteen miles down the track
Tell them I'm coming back
Counting poles counting sheep
Don't be slow I won't weep
If your wheels on the line
Were to put me on time
Just a year to the day
Since I went upon my way
To seek my fortune and fame
Be a star change my name
And that's it more or less
Til this midnight express
I know I can't be late
Cause she said she won't wait
She'll just go marry Jack
So there's no turning back
And it's 25 to midnight and fifteen miles of track
Band I had got a break
Just one chance we had to take
Told my girl I'd be back
Left her with my friend Jack
New York City for a spell
Things didn't turn out so well
Every dive that we played
We were lucky we got paid
Mr Train driver please
If your speed you increase
Every cent I have now
Will be yours this I vow
And that's it more or less
Til this midnight express
I know I can't be late
Cause she said she won't wait
She'll just go marry Jack
So there's no turning back
And it's 25 to midnight and fifteen miles of track
We called ourselves the Latino Lovers
Hawaiian shirts and top forty covers
I didn't think I could sink this low
When drugs and booze ate all my dough
This isn't how it was meant to be
There's no such thing as a meal that's free
If I was ever to get out alive
I have to get home on time
Train I ride don't be slow
If your whistle can blow
Fifteen miles down the track
Tell them I'm coming back
And that's it more or less
Til this midnight express
I know I can't be late
Cause she said she won't wait
She'll just go marry Jack
So there's no turning back
And it's 25 to midnight and fifteen miles of track
And it's 25 to midnight and fifteen miles of track
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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