The Chair Person
The Chair Person.
The woman, who was chairing the meeting, wore a flowering
dress of an expensive material, she wore much gold and with
her tan she looked almost like a rich gipsy lady only less elegant.
It wasn’t that she was very fat but her lips where huge, too red
and octopus greedy and her fingers, when resting on the table
looked like guillotined, corpulent men, blood still dripping and
when lesser charges shared it looked as she mentally hurried
them on so she could speak.
There was something insincere about her, maybe she didn’t
have problem, but this was the only place people tolerated her.
Beautiful summer evening windows open, I heard bird song,
sun was setting into an azure sea. at home I had a cold bottle
of white wine waiting. Must have dreamt there was a grave
silence in the room, I looked up the woman was glaring at me
waiting for me to share something, I looked up to the roof and
counted the beams and thus the meeting ended
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Related quotes
I Looked At You
i looked at you,
and saw the fugitive
in my mirror.
i looked at me,
and saw the child in you.
i looked at God,
and saw the stranger waiting.
i looked at the stranger,
and saw my brother in need.
i looked at freedom,
and saw the bars of the cell.
i looked at the bars,
and saw my spirit walk free.
i looked at anger,
and saw forgiveness waiting.
i looked at forgiveness,
and saw the hands of love.
i looked at my body,
and saw the bird leaving the nest.
i looked at the nest,
and saw a world made of straw.
i looked at today,
and saw the scars of yesterday.
i looked at yesterday,
and saw the dawning of tomorrow.
i looked at the seed,
and saw the plant in fullness.
i looked at fullness,
and saw emptiness the seed.
i looked at you...
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The snake was in the tree
The snake was in the tree
and watched the woman and man
and both of them were free
and at the woman he looked
and both were innocent and happy.
He wanted the woman for himself
as she was beautiful
and had some grace
and in his plans
the man had no place,
but of all of this
Eve heard never a word.
She was on her back
and looked at the blue sky
and the shadow of Adam
fell over her
and his smile he couldn’t hide.
His hands was like magic
and he spoke of love
and of God
and they were one
with the setting sun
and God smiled
and blessed all lovers
in His new world
called earth.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Paris 1973 (poem)
That year
in Paris
you took
Dostoyevsky's novel
Crime and Punishment
to read when
you weren't touring
the sites
and you became
so immersed in the book
that you became
Raskolnikov
and killed
the old woman
and her half sister
and looked about the streets
you looked for the detective
Porfiry whom you suspected
was following you about
and as you sat
in the Champs-Elysées
or stood by
the Arc de Triomphe
you thought of all
the famous
who had stayed here
in this fine city
Henry Miller
Ezra Pound
Hemmingway
Debussy
Van Gogh
and that fanatical
conqueror Hitler
with his sick smile
under that
silly moustache
and that evening
your brother
in the hotel room
puked in the bidet
after sour wine
or too rich food
as you looked out
the window on
the Parisian street
to see if Porfiry
was out there
waiting for you
to charge you
with the murderous crime
you didn't do.
poem by Terry Collett
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Santa Looked A Lot Like Daddy
(Buck Owens & Don Rich)
Well, Santa looked a lot like daddy
Or daddy looked alot like him
It's not the way I had him pictured
Santa was a much too thin
He didn't come down the chimney
So momma musta let him in
Yeah, Santa looked a lot like daddy
Or daddy looked alot like him.
Well they thought I was a sleepin'
They thought I was tucked in bed
They never thought that I'd come a peepin'
Or that I'd hear what was said
Santa put his arm around momma
And momma put her arm around him
So if Santa Claus ain't daddy
Then I'm a gonna tell on them.
Well, Santa looked a lot like daddy
Or daddy looked alot like him
It's not the way I had him pictured
Santa was a much too thin
He didn't come down the chimney
So momma musta let him in
Well, Santa looked a lot like daddy
Or daddy looked alot like him.
I never saw Dancer or Prancer
I never heard the sleigh bells ring
I never saw the red nosed reindeer
Like they show on the TV screen
But he sure bought alot of presents
So Santa Claus he must have been
Well, he sure looked a lot like daddy
And daddy looked alot like him.
Well, Santa looked a lot like daddy
Or daddy looked alot like him
It's not the way I had him pictured
Santa was a much too thin
He didn't come down the chimney
So momma musta let him in
Well, Santa looked a lot like daddy
Or daddy looked alot like him.
Santa looked a lot like daddy
Or daddy looked alot like
Daddy looked alot like him...
song performed by by Travis Tritt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Double
Everyone has a double
at least that is what they say.
I am beginning to believe it
after what happened yesterday.
My wife and I went shopping
and to the checkout, we went.
Then I stopped and felt hesitant,
the cashier, a young girl looked familiar,
but it couldn’t be,
for who she looked like lived thousands of miles away.
Everything about her
from the style of her hair
and the glasses she wore,
even the way she smiled
looked the spitting image of a friend I speak to on the internet.
The resemblance was uncanny
and I almost called her by friends name.
She made me take a second glance
to make sure.
I know it wasn’t my friend who lives in America,
she was younger than she,
but she certainly looked like her.
When they say now everyone has a double,
here is one now that believes.
19 November 2008
poem by David Harris
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the Touch**********************1979
i looked up into the deep blue sky
little white clouds were floating by
i looked upon this young girls face
she held it down in disgrace.
i looked upon her cheeks so fair
she looked up to me to see if i care
i looked at her with content
and she knew right there it was heaven sent.
she smiled at me, and our eyes then touched
we knew then, it was much to much.
our hearts entwined and her lips met mine
we felt right there it was a love divine.
poem by Louis Rams
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A face in the clouds
I looked up at the sky
all I could see were clouds
big ones like mashed potato.
One looked like a map
of the United Kingdom
another shaped like Spain.
But there amongst these
was a beautiful face
and it looked like you.
Was my mind playing tricks?
but I looked up again
and it was still there
all white and so clear.
This beautiful face in the sky
put there just for me
then it changed and it was gone
just like you.
poem by Kevin Halls
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Wiped Out
Wiped out!
I went to a party, just so smartly, cool as cool could be
I knew I could make it, knew I could shake it, lose some fancy free
So I went to the table and reached for a bottle
And poured me a glass of wine
Took a few sips and looked around, I was feelin fine
But an hour along, comin on strong, I was gettin drunk
The next thing I knew I looked at you, I was blind as a skunk, I was
Chorus:
I was wiped out, I had my lights out
Was fallin right out, cos I was wiped out
Through the smoke-filled room I caught your eye
And I think that you caught mine
And I knew in a minute or maybe less, it was just a matter of time
Then you started to move with such a groove, stronger than sneakin slow
Then you looked at me with your big blue eyes, they had such a glow
Then I took your hand and tried to stand and ended up sittin back down
Then you smiled at me and gave me a wink, how quick I lost my frown, I was
Chorus
So I looked at you and then I knew that we were gonna have some fun
So I thought to myself, wine was out, we should switch to rum
So without a word, and like some bird, we flew to another place
And pretty soon we were in some room stretched miles out in space
The room was turnin, we were burnin, things became a haze
It seemed that already I had too many, firewater caused the blaze, I was
Chorus repeats out
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He's a Woman - She's a Man
I saw it walkin' lonely down the street
Cool like a cat, like crazy clean
I looked twice again, I can't believe
Oh no no no
It turned around right then
And looked at me
I said oh no, it really couldn't be
It was a man, it was a woman, too
He's a woman, she's a man
He's a woman, she's a (woman)
I think it really came from far away
I'm feeling head uptight so I have to stay
It takes my hand and says come on, let's go
Let's go, let's go, let's go
We're goin' home, it's nice and warm to say
He starts to move, she starts to play
I need a body, why not you
He's a woman, she's a man
He's a woman, she's a (woman)
He's a woman, she's a man
He's a woman, she's a (woman)
song performed by by Scorpions, music by Rudolf Schenker, lyrics by Klaus Meine, Herman Rarebell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who's Joe?
Hey Joe what you're doing?
It seems like it's all going wrong
There's a storm in the sky passing over
And it looks like it's going to be strong
You've got eyes like an old wounded soldier
They cry tears to the losts in the wind
Hey Joe
Hey Joe
Hey Joe
What are your gonna do?
I looked for you
I'll get you home
Wherever you go
Whatever you do
I've got to find you
I've got to find you (Whatever you do)
I looked for you
I'll take you there
Wherever you go
Whatever you do
I've got to find you
Whatever I do (Whatever you do)
Hey Joe what you're doing?
They say you don't care anymore
You had your heart [hurt?] by a woman
Now it doesn't work anymore
She said that you had it coming
That you were no good from the start
Hey Joe
Hey Joe
Hey Joe
Time to go home
I looked for you
I'll get you home
Wherever you go
Whatever you do
I've got to find you
I've got to find you (Whatever you do)
I looked for you
I'll take you there
Wherever you go
Whatever you do
I've got to find you
Whatever I do (Whatever I do)
Whatever I do (Whatever I do)
Whatever I do (Whatever I do)
Whatever I do (Whatever I do)
Whatever I do (Whatever I do)
song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Summer 1958
You sat with Fay that summer day
on the flat concrete roof
of the World War Two bomb shelter
down below the tall flats
where you both lived
and you said
do you want to go
to the movies with me?
she looked across
at the coal depot
with its trucks loading
and unloading
I don't have no money
she replied
you looked at her
my dad'll pay
you said
he's always giving me money
for the movies
she shook her head
and you looked ahead
at the sun shining above
the rain tracks
over the coal depot
you had on your blue jeans
and white tee shirt
and she you noticed
turning your head
had a red and white dress
which came just over her knees
and she wore sandals
on bare feet
besides my mother wants me
so she can see me
Fay said with a sigh
she raised and lowered
her legs against
the concrete wall
her sandals making
tapping noises
as they hit the wall
and you noticed bruises
along her thigh
as she moved
and her dress rode higher
what are those bruises
on your leg?
you asked
she looked down
and stopped moving her legs
and pulled her dress hem
over her knees and thighs
I fell
she replied
down the stairs
you looked at her arms
where other fading bruises
blended into her skin
like worn-out badges
we can see a Western film
you said
I'm sure
there's a Jeff Chandler film
so my dad tells me
but she shook her head
too violent
Mother says
Fay uttered looking away
but there's kissing stuff too
you added
Fay looked at you
her blue eyes
moving over you
like a smoothing
palm of a hand
I'm not allowed
to go to the movies
Daddy says
its sinful and only
wicked people
go there
to be tempted
by the Devil
she sighed
and you both sat in silence
for a while
watching pigeons fly
in the blue summer sky
then she turned quickly
and kissed your cheek
and said
don't have to go
to no movie
to see kissing
and you thought
of the boring bits in films
where the cowboy
gets kissed by the girl
after a gun shoot out
and having been kissed
by Fay
you were glad
and guessed that kissing
wasn't at all
too bad.
poem by Terry Collett
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That Cat Won't Sit On Your Lap
She warned me
That cat won't sit on your lap
She won't let you pick her up
And she won't let you sit on your lap
She likes to rub her head on you
But that's it
She won't let you pick her up
The cat looked at me
I looked at her
I let her rub her head on my leg
I look at her again and made a cat noise
She said, you'll see, she doesn't let anybody pick her up
I just looked at the cat
She looked at me
I reached to pick her up and she flinched
But she came back
I looked at her
And picked her up
She arched her back briefly
I rubbed her head, which she liked
The cat stayed on my lap
She said....how did you do that?
I said, I just did!
I looked a the cat
she looked at me
And we agreed not to tell
I put her down
As I did she knowingly looked back at me.
poem by James T. Adair
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Little Bird
Little bird up in a tree
Looked down and sang a song to me
Of how it began
Na na na na na na
Na na na na na na
Na na na na na na
The trout in the shiny brook
Gave the worm another look
And told me not to worry
About my life
Na na na na na na
Na na na na na na
Na na na na na na
Tree in my own backyard
Stands all alone
Bears fruit for me
And it tastes so good
Wheres my pretty bird
He must have flown away
If I keep singing
Hell come back someday
Dawn, birds still gone
Guess Ill go mow the lawn
What a day, what a day
Oooo, what a beautiful day this is
Ooooooooo
Little bird up in a tree
Looked down a sang a song to me
The trout in a shiny brook
Gave the worm another look
And told me not to worry about my life
Little bird looked down
And sang a song to me
Little bird looked down
And sang a songto me
Little bird looked down
And sang a song to me
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Meeting Place
Meet you in the secret place
Scuffling in the dirt I wait
Whistle will blow, whistle will blow,
Share a joke the laughs on me
But when I get you on your own well see
Someone might hear, someone might hear
Youre a working girl now
Youve got money of your own
Hmmm the meeting place
Hmmm the meeting place
Strolling under grimey skies
Machines that make you kiss in time
Smoke on your breath, smoke on your breath
Chimney never looked so good
Never looked the way it should
From lying in the bracken wood
Coat on the ground, coat on the ground
Take a walk down the lane
Well be late back again
Hmmm the meeting place
Hmmm the meeting place
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hat
In city shop a hat I saw
That to my fancy seemed to strike,
I gave my wage to buy the straw,
And make myself a one the like.
I wore it to the village fair;
Oh proud I was, though poor was I.
The maids looked at me with a stare,
The lads looked at me with a sigh.
I wore it Sunday to the Mass.
The other girls wore handkerchiefs.
I saw them darkly watch and pass,
With sullen smiles, with hidden griefs.
And then with sobbing fear I fled,
But they waylayed me on the street,
And tore the hat from off my head,
And trampled it beneath their feet.
I sought the Church; my grief was wild,
And by my mother's grave I sat:
. . . I've never cried for clay-cold child,
As I wept for that ruined hat.
poem by Robert William Service
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More Than Paris
France is more than Paris
This dark, unfriendly French provincial town, only,
a pizza parlour open run by a gloomy, unshaven
person who looked like a reluctant refugee from
Kosovo I wouldn’t like to stay down-wind from.
Everything made of plastic tables, chairs that once
had been white, under the counter rested pieces
of pizzas that was going cold, I had two pieces one
with salami, the other with tuna, washed down with
soft drinks. Finished the meal, the man looked at me
as saying: ” What are you still doing here? I left.
Turned, looked into dirty windows, and thought” If this
is hell I better start saying my prayer now.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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During the 1990s, world leaders looked at the mounting threat of terrorism, looked up, looked away, and hoped the problem would go away.
quote by John Boehner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rain (II)
It thundered as if it would rain;
Appeared sultry as if to feign;
The Sky was clear but blue-black now;
It looked as if the Rain would come!
The clouds were dense and moved slowly;
Lightning patterned the Sky fiercely;
The Wind was almost absent now;
It looked as if the Rain would come!
The Birds were quiet and nested;
Awaiting the downpour, they rested;
The Monsoon was active for now;
It looked as if the Rain would come!
A few droplets of Rain did fall;
Atop the heads of people on stroll;
Afraid, each hurried to his home;
It looked as if the Rain would come!
The Rain did come! The Rain did come!
For once rightly, the Rain did come!
poem by John Celes
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Look Like That
I like his shoes I like his hat
Id like me better if I looked like that
Uh -huh uh-huh
I like her shoes I like her hat
Id like you better if you looked like that
Uh-huh uh-huh
But then my love starts burning
For what we are yearning to ignore
I like her clothes I love her dress
Id like her better if she loved me best
I like his shoes I love his pants
Id want him better if he wanted to dance
Uh-huh uh-huh
But then our love starts turning
For what we are learning to adore
Im meeting people nice people too
Im meeting people nice people like you
Were meeting people nice people too
Were meeting people nice people like you
Gordon gano: vocal, acoustic guitar
Brian ritchie: acoustic bass guitar, vocal glockenspiel, electric guitar
Victor delorenzo: brushed snare drum, tambourine, vocal
Mixed by david vartanian
gorno music reprinted with permission
song performed by by Violent Femmes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Betrayed
I WENT back to our home to-day
That still its robe of roses wore;
My feet took the old easy way,
And led me to our door.
And you are gone and never more
Those little feet of yours will come
To meet me at the open door,
The threshold of our home.
The door unlatched did not protest:
I entered, and the silence drew
My steps towards the little nest
That once I shared with you.
There lay your fan, your open book,
Your seam half-sewn, and I could see
The window whence you used to look--
Yes, once you looked--for me.
Print of your little head caressed
Our pillow still, and on the floor
Still lay, dropped there when last you dressed,
The scarf and rose you wore.
All should have spoken of you plain,
Yet, when I bade the silence tell
Of you, my bidding was in vain,
I could not break its spell.
The silence would not speak, my dear,
Till the last level light grew dim;
Then, in the twilight I could hear;
The silence spoke--of him.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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