Collector
The collector
I was a collector of paper napkins, every day I used to go around
picking them up, they were usually smeared with human saliva
and scum fat of cheap food. I had twenty bags full in my garage,
I stored them there since I have no car but like to mention that
I have a garage. One morning when I entered to pick up the stick,
with a nail in the end, the one I picked napkins with, the sacks
had turned in to tired workmen resting after slaving long hours
in the factory of hell. I opened the garage door they were free to
go and I saw them vanishing into the morning glare. They had
done their duty no more was excepted of them. From now on
till rain came they were be free, dance with dust and leave and
disappear on their own accord when time was right... My garage
is empty now but the smell of sweat and struggle lingers with old
jokes repeated a hundred times in workmen’s canteen
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Related quotes
Punk Rock Princess
Maybe when the room is empty
Maybe when the bottles full
Maybe when the door gets broke down
Love can break in
Maybe when I'm done with thinking
Maybe you can think me whole
Maybe when I'm done with endings
This can begin...
If you could be my punk rock princess
I could be your garage band king
You could tell me why you just don't fit in
And how you're gonna be something
Maybe when you hair gets darker
Maybe when your eyes get wide
Maybe when the walls are smaller
There will be more space
Maybe when I'm not so tired
Maybe you could step inside
Maybe when I look for things that I can't replace...
If you could be my punk rock princess
I could be your garage band king
You could tell me why you just don't fit in
And how you're gonna be something
If I could be your first real heartache
I woudl do it over again
If you could be my punk rock princess
I would be your heroine
I never thought you'd last
I never dreamed you would
You watch your life go past
You wonder if you should
If you could be my punk rock princess
I could be your garage band king
You could tell me why you just don't fit in
And how you're gonna be something
song performed by by Something Corporate from Leaving Through The Window
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How far to the next garage
Just as I stopped at a garage today
the car’s engine died,
as it was running
with the yellow light burning
and the last gasoline was gone.
I had no cash on me
and there was no card machine
and the auto bank
at the shop was broken
and I was told,
about an auto bank at the next garage.
I started walking
and found a black man
along the way.
How far to the next
garage I asked
and he replied,
just on the other side
of the bridge.
On the other side
of the bridge,
there was one more bridge
and on the other side
of it,
no garage could be seen
for two kilometres or more.
So I wondered while I walked along
with a plastic can in my hand
that if he really didn’t know
why did he lie,
or was the man
too afraid to be seen
as a fool
while the biggest fool
was I?
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Near-Accident 7.31.2008
Margaret Alice drove into a pole this morning,
didn’t realize the car was badly injured, then
as she tried to drive home, felt the full force
of the near-accident: The wheel alignment was
out, the right front wheel completely skew, the
car wouldn’t go, the car park attendant directed
to the wheel alignment garage where Manuel -
Manuel Lennon – checked the car –
It is busted madame, you have to drive it to another
garage, Margaret Alice hysterical – the kids are at
school, who will take care of them? – I cannot drive,
the car’s wheels are all skew, said Schalk Jordaan –
we’ll drive the car to the garage, Manuel in your
car, we’ll take you there; I called Caroline, she
went to fetch Nici and Tiaan, Celeste at the garage –
this will cost you madame; I smiled, yes it will,
But my kids are safe; here is Barbara and Lieb,
they’ll take me home; took the number and
details of Manuel and Schalk who drove my
broken car all the way to the garage, I was too
shaken and scared to drive my little lame duck;
they took care of me and my car, made sure I
had a lift before they left – how can I thank them?
They’ll never know how much they meant
To the lady with the broken car – but in this poem
I’ll let them know how much their help meant!
poem by Margaret Alice
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When I was in Philadelphia during the Depression in 1930 or '31, I got a very sad job as a night watchman in a garage. The cars in the garage had been abandoned by their owners, since they had lost their jobs and couldn't keep up the payments.
quote by Tom Glazer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Garage
Ive got the dungeon masters guide
Ive got a 12-sided die
Ive got kitty pryde
And nightcrawler too
Waiting there for me
Yes I do, I do
Ive got my favorite rock group kiss
Ive got ace frehley
Ive got peter criss
Waiting there for me
Yes I do, I do
In the garage
I feel safe
No one cares about my ways
In the garage
Where I belong
No one hears me sing this song
In the garage
Ive got an electric guitar
I play my stupid song
I write these stupid words
And I love every one
Waiting there for me
Yes I do, I do
song performed by by Deftones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweet Times Gone
I'm holding back from going to see him-
To take a cab to the sad part of town.
Afraid to add to a heart that's grieving
With all those memories hanging around.
We were shy and we liked it fine
Living in back of his pa's garage.
And, oh, that garage lit up like magic
when he picked up that old guitar.
Sweet times gone; they've gone on by.
To laugh and dream with friends;
It ends, and so we cry.
Sweet times gone so far away
Leaving whispers in the air-
Sad whispers here to stay.
I get tears near spilling over
Thinking back to long ago
Before he left with that old guitar
To sing to world he didn't know.
poem by Joseph Damico
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Tell Me
You can't tell me
You can't tell me
You can't tell me anything
I love only me
I love only me
I've got the answer to everything
There's only me
to suggest what I do
I am the garage flower
I don't need to stare
'Cos I know everywhere
Well there's a place for me anywhere
Tell me tell me
You tell me anything
You can't tell
You won't tell
Me anything
Anything
I love only me
I love only me
I've got the answers to everything
I don't need to stare
'Cos I know everywhere
Well there's a place for me anywhere
Tell me tell me
You tell me anything
Tell me tell me
You can't tell us anything
You can't tell
You won't tell
Me anything
Anything
You can't
I am the garage flower
I am the garage flower
song performed by by The Stone Roses from Garage Flower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Daily
you wake up early
you wash your face
you use soap and water
you wipe your face with
a white towel near the sink
hanging
you dress up
you take breakfast
you chew your food
you drink your coffee
you read the papers
hear the news on tv
you go to the garage
warm up your car
you open the garage
and speed your way to your office
you read the whole day
you talk less
you take your lunch
and you cat's nap
you work the whole afternoon
you read a lot
you write
you are tired and ask your driver
to drive you home
you open the door of your house
you sleep with your shoes on
you sleep for some hours
you are hungry
you go to the kitchen and eat
the food made ready for you
by your housemaid
you are alone in this sequence
you turn on the tv
and the whole night you feel
you are the lookout
for something that is about to happen
you ask yourself, what is this all about?
you tell yourself, you do not know, it is just your daily routine
for years and years, and it goes on and on and you have no
way of stopping
they call it life
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Warm-blooded Man's rusty Engine Warrrenty
'It could be replaced
Any part of this ridiculous engine,
But little expensive the original parts
And the other thing is you cannot
Keep in the garage all the time,
Being towed by the Authorized personnel.
Run as much as you can and at last,
At least we can dismantle the body for scrapped iron
Because the wooden Mahogany boxes are very expensive nowadays! '
The shrewd Proprietor of the Garage leaves a placard at the entrance.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Tell Me
You cant tell me
You cant tell me
You cant tell me anything
I love only me
I love only me
Ive got the answer to everything
Theres only me
To suggest what I do
I am the garage flower
I dont need to stare
cos I know everywhere
Well theres a place for me anywhere
Tell me tell me
You tell me anything
You cant tell
You wont tell
Me anything
Anything
I love only me
I love only me
Ive got the answers to everything
I dont need to stare
cos I know everywhere
Well theres a place for me anywhere
Tell me tell me
You tell me anything
Tell me tell me
You cant tell us anything
You cant tell
You wont tell
Me anything
Anything
You cant
I am the garage flower
I am the garage flower
song performed by by Stone Roses
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rescued by an Angel
Some time ago, we planned to go shopping in Duluth, Minnesota
We started out on the highway but the car radiator blew
We decided to drive the car back to our garage
Our son, Clancy, offered to drive it back
While I was sitting in the front passenger seat
I felt an invisible Angel gently pushing our car
He pushed it all the way into the garage
We were rescued by an Angel
Thank God for creating His Angels
December 18,2006, Clarence A. Graham, Jr.
poem by Jr. Clarence A. Graham
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So Much Depends On This Experience
one night when you arrive home
it is you that opens the garage
you have to step out of the car
and expose yourself to this inevitable coldness of a nightfall
no one is home
tonight
when you open the door using your own duplicate key
you switch on the light
no one is home tonight
the garage and house is now well lighted
you close the door and all the windows
you go straight to your bedroom
&
switch on the air-conditioner
you feel the arrival of a very cold packet of wind
from the tip of your feet
and it arrives like a jackal
as you begin to imagine it to be like
the one that you read in those horror books
it howls so loud trying to break the tympanum of your ears
and it is going to bite you
with its sharp eyes and teeth
but there is something so wrong with you:
you are not afraid, you do not mind jackals,
and now you are ready to bite this crazy one
you like this cold, and you smell the frost
you lick it
there is something so wrong with you:
you are aroused, and you do not like to sleep at all.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Attractive Female Wanted
(rod stewart / gary grainger)
Im tired of buying penthouse and oui and hustler
Its friday night Im all alone still a bachelor
She said shed call me when shed finished work
Havent heard a word all day
I may not be warren beatty or mohammed ali
(attractive female wanted)
I aint asking a great deal, just a female to move in with me
(attractive female wanted)
Ill share all my records, toothbrush and car
And color tv, honestly
A single girl for my single bed is my remedy
(attractive female wanted)
She doesnt have to be a movie star
Cover of a magazine
She can work in a garage all day
In the evening some canteen
Im tired of blind dates making silly mistakes
Its embarrassing
(attractive female wanted)
Ive had no complaints
But obviously youve guessed
No compliments
(attractive female wanted)
Wont someone please answer my prayers
Before Im old and grey
(attractive female wanted)
Ive been lonely too long
All of my family think Im gay
She doesnt have to be a movie star
Cover of magazine
She can work in a garage all day
In the evening some canteen
Attractive female wanted
Active female wanted
I may get drunk stink like a skunk
But shell look after me
(attractive female wanted)
Put me to bed ease my aching head
And made fuss of me
You know what I gonna do
Think Ill write a letter
To mr. hugh heffner confidentially
Dear sir
A single girl for my single bed is my remedy
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Aunt's Murder
She was a gentle elderly lady
Who was always helping everyone, not shady
She tended to the sick and gave to the poor
She loved all so much, she was so pure
She had a cat, she loved so much
That was always in her lap, in her clutch
She left the garage door, cracked opened each day
She never worried about being another's prey
One day on the couch, she sat reading a book
When in her garage door entered a crook
She screamed and she cried, 'What are you doing here? '
He grabbed her by the throat and she was in great fear
He stayed and tortured her for so many hours
She was so overcome by his strenght and powers
I feel great sorrow as I write this story
Her murder was mother's day, much to his glory
I was at her trial, November of last year
And since her death, I've shed many a tear
He sat there glaring at us so proud
The picture's we saw, shouldn't have been allowed
I felt rage and grief and stared back at him
I hoped his outcome would be real grim
He said he was guilty when the judge asked how he pled
It took four days for the verdict to be read
I held my breath, while I awaited the sentence
I knew death should have been his pentence
The jury, they couldn't come to decision
The judge decided it would be life in prison
In Texas, that's not a long sentence to pay
You can get out in forty years, not another day
It was capitol murder and he should have got death
I will see he stay's in prison, till I take my last breath
The picture's that they showed, are etched in my mind
This animal shouldn't live among mankind
She is in heaven now, living with my mother
At least once more, they have one another!
poem by Donna Nimmo
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When I go to the garage to pick up my clubs, I clean the spider webs off.
quote by John Ratzenberger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The doctor must have put my pacemaker in wrong. Every time my husband kisses me, the garage door goes up.
quote by Minnie Pearl
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scary Monster
Scary monster are walking down the streets of Dubling and searching the Pipes for mouse
But for now there are no mouse to be found
And the scary monster try also to get in into people's garage in Dublin And there the scary monters finds a few mouse to eat
But now the hunting started and the scary monster haunted every mouse that was in the people's garage in Dubling
Also the scary monster was satisfied with his dinner
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Skipping!
A little girl was skipping;
As she swung her skipping rope
The neighbors heard her singing
And the song she sang was - Quote:
'Mummy's in the parlour
And she's there with Uncle Fred,
Daddy's in the garage
Says she's doing in his head,
Auntie Jane was crying
Now she's swimming in the pool
And I must keep on skipping
'Til it's time to go to school.'
The neighbors saw her skipping
All along the afternoon,
She skipped a hundred singles
As she sang her little tune:
'Mummy's saying nothing
But she hasn't any clothes,
Uncle Fred is staring
With a chopper through his nose,
Auntie Jane is floating
But her face is turning black
And Daddy's in the garage
With a rope around his neck.'
A little girl was skipping
But there wasn't any sound,
I guess she'll still be skipping
When the sun goes down…
1 April 2008
poem by David Lewis Paget
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A Self Called Nowhere
Im sitting on the curb
By the empty parking lot
Of the store where they let me play the organ
Im waiting for my ride
But I want to wait inside
Of the store where they let me play the organ
But Im thinking of a wooden chair
In a room at the top of a stair
And Im looking down the stairwell
At the vanishing dot
On the map of the spot
Let me take you there
The dotted line
Surrounding the mind
Of a self called nowhere
Its a thing named it
In a bottomless pit
You cant see it there
The sunken head
That lies in the bed
Of a self called nowhere
Standing in my yard
Where they tore down the garage
To make room for the torn down garage
Im looking for my car
But I must have sold my car
When I needed to buy an electric organ
But Im thinking of a wooden chair
In a room at the top of a stair
And Im looking down the stairwell
At the vanishing dot
On the map of the spot
Let me take you there
The dotted line
Surrounding the mind
Of a self called nowhere
Its a thing named it
In a bottomless pit
You cant see it there
The sunken head
That lies in the bed
Of a self called nowhere
Nowhere
The vanishing dot
On the map of the spot
Let me take you there
The dotted line
Surrounding the mind
Of a self called nowhere
Its a thing named it
In a bottomless pit
You cant see it there
The sunken head
That lies in the bed
Of a self called
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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George and the Dragon
I'll tell you the tale of an old country pub
As fancied itself up to date,
It had the word " Garage" wrote on t' stable door
And a petrol pump outside the gate.
The " George and the Dragon" were t' name of the pub,
And it stood in a spot wild and bleak,
Where nowt ever seemed to be passing that way
Except Carrier's cart once a week.
The Carrier's cart were a sturdy old Ford
And its driver were known as " Old Joe
He had passed pub each week but he'd never been in,
It's name even he didn't know.
One cold winter night, about quarter to one,
He were driving home over the moor,
And had just reached the pub, when his engine stopped dead
A thing it had ne'er done before.
He lifted the bonnet and fiddled around
And gave her a bit of a crank;
When he looked at his petrol he found what were wrong,
There wasn't a drop in the tank.
He had eight miles to go and 'twere starting to rain,
And he thought he were there for the night,
Till he saw the word " Garage" wrote on t' stable door;
Then he said, " Lizzie, Lass... we're all right."
He went up to t' pub and he hammered at door
Till a voice up above said " Hello!"
It were t' Publican's Wife-she said,
"Now what's to do?", "I've run out of petrol," said Joe.
She said " Who are you? " He said " Carrier Joe."
" Oh, so that's who it is," she replied
You've been passing this door now for close on ten years
And never once set foot inside."
"A nice time of night to come knocking folks up,
She continued. "Away with your truck,
" You'd best get your petrol where you buy your beer...
" You only come here when you re stuck."
Said Joe, "Aye, I'll go if you'll sell me some fuel,
"I can't start my engine without.
"I'm willing to pay." but she told him to go
Where he'd get his fuel for nowt.
"Coom, coom, Lass!" said Joe, conci-latory like,
"Let bygones be bygones, and when
I come round next time I'll look in."
She said, "Oh, Well, your petrol can wait until then."
With these few remarks th' old girl took in her head
And slammed winder to in his face;
He took a look round and for t' very first time
He noticed the name of the place.
He picked up some pebbles he found in the road
And tossed them against winder pane,
And before very long lattice opened above
And out came the old girl again.
What d'ye want? " she enquired. And " Not you," Joe replied,
For this treatment had fair raised his gorge
"I see George and t' Dragon's the name on the house,
"And I'd just like a word now with George."
poem by Marriott Edgar
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