Politically Incorrect Poem 3
The latest European edict from Brussels
commands that horses
must have a passport, with photo...
(our local brewery
still used them for local deliveries -
accountants proved them cheaper;
and of course, great publicity)
How many horses
can you get in one
photo-booth?
And they'll need quite a few more
shit-hot
passport inspectors
so watch that arab stallion
strolling so casually
onto the cross-Channel ferry -
might he....?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Related quotes
Airplane travel is nature's way of making you look like your passport photo.
There is nothing more miserable in the world than to arrive in paradise and look like your passport photo.
quote by Erma Bombeck
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My passport photo is one of the most remarkable photographs I have ever seen --- no retouching, no shadows, no flattery --- just stark me.
quote by Anne Morrow Lindbergh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mustangs Are Born Free (Monchielle)
Let wild horses run free
In mountains let them be
Release them let them go
Stop killing these horses
They are so scared you know
Let wild horses run free
Don't divide mom from baby
Wild horses to be free
Let them run in mountain
Don't take freedom away
Let wild horses run free
Let's join voices help horses
Take them where they belong
They truly need our help
Selling these horses wrong
Let wild horses run free
Since small I love horses
I grew up watch them grow
Mustangs are beautiful
They're unique smart you know.
September 24,2009
poem by Dorian Petersen Potter
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Did He Have A Passport?
There's a recent book that's just come out
'Bout Jesus by a Hindu
It's a really interesting read
But - if you think like I do -
It raises far more questions than
The few that it can answer
Like if Jesus went abroad
How did he get a passport?
Imagine him signing the forms
And coming to the section
Where it asks you who your father is
And his job or his profession
Now it seems that Jesus did spend time
With sub-continental gurus
So if his passport we could find
His-story would be full proved.
poem by David Keig
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Heat
When the rats are running
And the boys are gunning
For heads on a tin plate ---
You can hear the footfall
Softly in the back yard.
And the black jack is called
Face up on the last card.
Youd better call your witness
In your dirty business.
Trop tard sera le cri.
Better run while you can ---
Better set the tall sail.
Better make deep cover
Before the boys have you nailed.
Theres just one chance to get away ---
Ill catch up with you another day.
Ill close my eyes and count to ten
And come right after you again.
Grab your credit cards ---
Cash in on your resources.
Take your passport from the drawer,
Dont stop to change the horses.
Get out of the heat.
Now can you feel the pressure?
Have you got the measure
Of being a wanted man?
Cold drink in your hand ---
Hot sweat on your brow.
And theres no understanding
Going to help you now.
Grab your credit cards ---
Cash in on your resources.
Take your passport from the drawer,
Dont stop to change the horses.
Notify all parties
Of an earlier vacation.
No use trying to board the train
After its left the station.
Get out of the heat.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hatred In You
Dappled horses,
Bay horses,
Red horses,
Black horses,
White horses;
However, you boasted against us all with your mouth!
Because of the hatred in you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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How Long....
How long will i cry for help?
How long must i cry to you?
It is like swimming things,
Who do have rulers upon them.
How long shall this take to get to you?
How long should i wait for your love?
I will stand my watch and will be,
More fierce than the evening wolves!
The pride of your hearts have deceived you,
Like a great wind over the sea;
Three days and three nights,
A cry from the great fish to teach us all.
How Long....? Oh how long.....? !
Consider your ways like,
A cry from the Fish-Gate;
This seed will grow successfully.
Red horses,
Of each man and his cane;
Black horses,
Of each woman and her cane;
White horses,
Of the seed that will grow successfully;
Dappled horses,
Of the art of a design in my mind;
Bay horses,
Of the great wind at sea;
How long will i cry for help?
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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I raise quarter horses. Mine are mostly thoroughbred cross horses, a little bigger horses than some people like. I sell them or use them on the ranch. A lot of them go to the rodeo arena and some of them go to racetracks.
quote by Wilford Brimley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wild Horses
From a phone booth in cheyenne
I made a promise to diane
No more rodeos
Id gone my last go round.
The same promise that I made
In san antone and santa fe
But tonight I saddled up
And let her down.
(chorus)
Wild horses keep draggin me away
And Ill lose more than Im gonna win someday
Wild horses just stay wild
And her heart is all I break
Wild horses keep draggin me away.
Shell watch me drive around her block
Gettin courage up to stop
To make her one more promise
That I cant keep
The way I love the rodeo
I guess I should let her go
Before I hurt her more
Than she loves me
*chorus*
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The capacity of the commonwealth government created under the local constitution to exercise governmental powers in local affairs is like that of local government in the states of the union in regard to non-federal affairs at the local level.
quote by Dick Thornburgh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Local television and local TV news isn't telling the voters about local candidates.
quote by Reed Hundt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memory Lingers (Revised)
Compiled a ‘to do' list in a whirlwind start,
security took my fingerprints for clearance,
I'm vindicated, my existence has meaning,
I've just proved I'm me with qualifications
Friends vouched acquaintanceship, name &
ID of every family member; were I suffering
amnesia I could so easily look myself up - it
makes me feel brilliant - only thing lacking
Is a pharmacy full-colour passport photo,
then I can identify my face too; ‘Diamonds
Are Forever' James Bond could use my ID
and fingerprints to fool smugglers -
Really for a moment I am Jill St. John adding
‘Tiffany Case' to my extensive repertoire; how
can everyone bend over their desks in cool
concentration when so many whimsical
Dreams await to be dramatized - let me write
down my fantasy freed restraint then continue
in cold boredom afterwards - secure while the
memory lingers in my heart…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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The Horses
'Thus far 80,000 horses have been shipped from the United States to the European belligerents.'
WHAT was our share in the sinning,
That we must share the doom?
Sweet was our life's beginning
In the spicy meadow-bloom,
With children's hands to pet us
And kindly tones to call.
To-day the red spurs fret us
Against the bayonet wall.
What had we done, our masters,
That you sold us into hell?
Our terrors and disasters
Have filled your pockets well.
You feast on our starvation;
Your laughter is our groan.
Have horses then no nation,
No country of their own?
What are we, we your horses,
So loyal where we serve,
Fashioned of noble forces
All sensitive with nerve?
Torn, agonized, we wallow
On the blood-bemired sod;
And still the shiploads follow.
Have horses then no God?
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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Torn Picture
I found it in my box today,
A photo that I tucked away.
It had a pretty smiling face
In another even happier place.
It use to sit upon my desk
It got me through the worst, into the best
If I couldn't smile that day at all
I just took a glimpse of the photo, and feel the walls
Fall away, fall into dust beneath my feet-
Where earth and man doth meet.
That was till the dark clouds came,
When I found that people often change.
That those we trust oft are our enemy.
When those who chain us, once set us free.
In the midst of the storm, the photo stood,
Daring questions of whoever would.
The symbol of eternal hope,
Something on which I could grab hold.
But hope without help, eventually dies,
And the photo was tucked away with all my files.
One by one, the pictures of you were ripped up
Till there was none of you to remind me of.
But this one photo, hidden away amidst other mail
The one last tangible memory of a fairytale.
Twas today I took hold of its corners,
And watched it tear, till your face was just a blur.
Goodbye to all your lies-
The mask behind which you hide.
Watch the shredded pieces fall in the bin,
Watching as a new life begins.
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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A Gallop of Fire
When the north wind moans thro' the blind creek courses
And revels with harsh, hot sand,
I loose the horses, the wild red horses,
I loose the horses, the mad, red horses,
And terror is on the land.
With prophetic murmer the hills are humming,
The forest-kings bend and blow;
With hoofs of brass on the baked earth strumming,
O brave red horses, they hear us coming,
And the legions of death lean low.
O'er the wooded height, and the sandy hollow
Where the boles to the axe have rung,
Tho' they fly the foreman as flies the swallow,
The fierce red horses, my horses, follow
With flanks to the faint earth flung.
Or with frenzied hieroglyphs, fear embossing
Night's sable horizon bars,
Thro' tangled mazes of death-darts crossing,
I swing my leaders and watch them tossing
Their red manes against the stars.
But when South winds sob in the drowned creek courses
And whisper to hard wet sand,
I hold the horses, the spent red horses,
I hold the horses, the tired red horses,
And silence is on the land.
Yea, the South wind sobs among the drowned creek courses
For sorrows no man shall bind---
Ah, God! For the horses, the black plumed horses,
Dear God! For the horses, Death's own pale horses,
That raced in the tracks behind.
poem by Marie E J Pitt
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He Feels The Time Is Ripe
Where many do live for local renown
The ageing fringe dweller in the old country town
Has never played football with the local club
And always drinks on his own when he is in the pub.
Since he does not talk about the local club's latest loss or win
He remains an outsider and does not fit in
Though he has lived here for ten years as an outsider he remain
The status of a local he has yet to attain.
He feels a decade of his life enough to have spent here
He will move to the bigger town early next year
This not a town for one such as he an artist and a talented man
More suited to a footballer or a football fan.
In the old country town he does not have a friend
And his stay in the place is coming to an end
In his early to mid fifties his best days long gone
And he feels the time is ripe for him to move on.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Photos of War
Photo of War - 1
no milk for her
child the nipple
droops a sad
thing while dogs
run wildly about
Photo of War - 2
Geese tell of return
the burning village
counts its embers
measured in hands
Photo of War - 3
there are treaties
generals
prisoners and
gilded boxes
exchanged
then the
Mongol spices
Photo of War - 4
boys
muddy feet
cheer
chase behind
battalions
innocent fists
raising threat
for them
such regrettable
punctuation
Photo of War - 5
Hold Fast
the greatest
among us
he knows
only war which
makes him great
in one thing
alone
I know
of waiting
what the horizon
safe keeps behind
its ear
of love, yes
Photo of War - 6
your top knot my hand
unknotting
your long hair my
scented bedding
sudden
startled
wildness of laps
in the vase
so very
still
a clutch of stamens
Arrival at last -
the fallen petal
of your navel
Photo of War - 7
Dream again
of moonlight
of sewing
that work of warriors
naked needling of seams
In this dream
I know the pattern well
so near to hand
a blessing
let the dead bury
theirs
Photo of War - 8
his face
sleeps upon my
belly
I do not breathe
do not wish to disturb
Dawn just
light fingers
trace in circles
each my
breasts
what tickles
but a sigh interrupted
Photo of War - 9
In your dream
a gentle
boat slowly rises
with waves
the gentler subsiding
slides up
my torso
to keel
to kiss
Never again will I go to war
Photo of War - 10
I lie
Already
the men are heavily gathering
new arrows hot for flesh
only for yours I am
Photo of War - 11
Fortress a better world
between the teeth
on tips of tongues
on lip perimeters
strung by kisses
Photo of War - 12
From childhood our song:
Hurry awake sleepy bee
Softly sings the breeze
To sweetness we are called
when the sun high shall be
freshened with tears our parting
Photo of War - The Last
behind the barred door wait
a lock of wound hair
silk pouch of my gated heart
it will be a hard arrow to pierce it
poem by Warren Falcon
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Remember Lot's Wife
One is taken and the other is left down,
One is spoken to and the other is written to,
But remember Lot's wife and learn!
For if your child ask you of fish,
Will you give him a snake? !
Then think twice before you leap.
Life is full of ups and downs but,
Be very strong always to carry on;
And like the fig tree planted in the vineyard,
be very focus on your dreams.
Red horses and black horses,
White horses and dappled horses,
And with the bay horses to write this muse;
Life is guided by the four spirits of the heavens but,
Yu've sown much and brought in a little.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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All The Kings Horses
All the kings horses and all the kings men
Couldnt put me back together again
My heart lies in pieces all over the ground
Whos gonna help me when youre not around
And I know inside me ,that nobody cares
Whatever happens to me
I live my life as a plea
All the kings horses and all the kings men
Couldnt put me back together again
I was in love when I sat on my wall
No one could hurt me , no one at all
And I know that somewhere my love walked away
She threw my love to the sky
Nothing to do but to cry
All the kings horses and all the kings men
Couldnt put me back together again
All the kings horses , all the kings horses
All the kings horses , all the kings horses
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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