The Parrot
The Parrot.
The café in our village has shut. The couple who ran it left
when their parrot died. They had kept the place open for it,
since it was a genial bird. The parrot called everyone who
entered idiots; people laughed no one took offence, or so
we all thought. But someone must have taken umbrage, it
was shot through the window when the café was empty.
Feather everywhere the village was shocked, who could do
such a shameful deed? The culprit, was a farmer, who had
drunk his coffee at the café for twenty odd years, and had
enough of being called an idiot. The moral of this sad tale,
if there is any: if you call a man an idiot long enough he will
end up being one.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Related quotes
Rosebank
From the village of Rosebank the hills look so green
A beautiful country as fine as i've seen
A gem of the mountains on the higher ground
Is this quiet little village with hills all around.
In the Green Frog cafe i go back in time
A bard of the old school sat crafting his rhyme
His long hair and long beard seemed whiter than gray
And he sat in the cafe and wrote every day.
In the 'Green Frog' each morning for an hour or two
He sipped his coffee looking out on the view
He took in the beauty it came out in words
The green of the woods and the songs of the birds.
He sat in the cafe this maker of song
And sipped on his coffee and he thought hard and long
And he gazed on those mountains and song to him came
And he died old and poor though he lives on in fame.
And though the bard for long years has now lain with the dead
His verses survive and by many still read
And the mountains of Rosebank that gave him his rhyme
Are still green as ever unfaded by time.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Cyber Cafe Embarrassment.
She embarrassed too much the moon,
And for the fact she enjoyed it the dawn,
Watching secretly not to open the truth,
But to open because of denials the moon,
I called a cyber cafe and school embarrassment,
She embarrassed too much the moon,
And setting her Dogs in watch the dawn,
But eyes open but couldn't see still,
She needs but denials the moon,
I called a cyber cafe distractions for Art,
She embarrassed too much the moon,
And brought in are confusions,
And still cannot understand still,
A naive may be the moon dawn,
I called in darkness cyber cafe embarrassment.
She embarrassed too much the moon,
And dash out and dash in of its different gimmicks,
For a confusion of no meaning,
For its beauty in glory,
They tried to catch but couldn't,
They tried to obstruct but its morning shine!
I called in its windy liars and denials,
She embarrassed too much the moon,
We spoke even if its called an unspoken words,
We spoke and communicate very silently,
We ate but very silenced also,
But denials in reality of its greed the moon,
I called its security what J. p Clark refers 'SEASONS OF OMEN',
I called cyber cafe embarrassment in-depth,
I called my cyber cafe embarrassment in lust of love!
A cyber distraction diaspora.
poem by Bunmi Orogun Samuel
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Village Idiot
Did you see the lad, on the corner
He was standing drinking wine
Wears his overcoat in the summer
And short sleeves in the winter time
Takes his holidays, down at the bookies
Well he knows how to pick a horse
Village tramping round the countryside
He wears a smile, but he doesnt say much
Village idiot, hes complicated
Village idiot, simple mind
Village idiot, he does know something
But hes just not saying
Dont you know hes onto something
You can see it, you can see it in his eyes
Sometimes he looks so happy
As he goes strolling by
Oh village idiot, hes complicated
Village idiot, hes got a simple mind
Village idiot, must know something
But hes just not saying
Well you all know hes onto something
You can see it in his eyes
Sometimes he looks so happy
When he goes walking by
Sometimes he looks so happy
When he goes walking by
Sometimes he looks so happy
When he goes walking by.
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nicked My Heart, You Thief!
A stocking mask- worn culprit,
came on a bike from behind,
snatched my chain and sped away.
I worried much for my unkind fate
and sat sleepless through the night.
To my surprise, I found it placed
on the porch of my house in the morn.
“O my parrot, tell me! Who is that
naughty one playing mischief?
It repeated: ”‘That one! That one! ”
A month later, I was shocked to find out,
my scooter missing, on coming out of a bank.
I lodged a complaint at the nick, though,
I had no hope of getting my vehicle back.
Good Heavens! I found it back,
on the porch in the morning.
“ O my parrot, tell me that someone,
who robs my things and brings them back,
to give me sweetful shocks! ”.
My lovely parrot repeated, “That one! That one! ”
On a fine evening, I enjoyed the music,
played by some guys of my class.
There was looting spree of the hearts
by a singer of old, melting melodies!
I suffered being sleepless, forgetful
and my parents saw me, ’absent-minded’.
“ O my parrot! You know someone, the thief,
Is hiding in my hearty haven”.
My parrot said twice: “ Thief! Thief! ”
In the early morning, a flash of thought,
rushed me to the porch to find that singer,
standing there with a bouquet!
“ You, the thief! ”, I smiled. My cheerful parrot,
Perching on his shoulder, repeated: ” Thief! Thief! ”.
----------
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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The Greedy Cat at the Cafe.
He sits at the corner table
with not a fur out of place,
delicately he eats with a well-manicured claw,
then, overwhelmed by the delicious smell - and taste,
shovels mouthful after mouthful in with his paw.
He greedy comes to the Cafe everyday
for breakfast, lunch and afternoon tea,
Gets served by Chris and Morgan,
two lovely people who, to please their customers
go out of their way.
The Cafe but had no name,
a catchy title none could think of,
But then the cat with the appetite so greedy,
said 'why not name it after me? '
'I always come here everyday,
and the freshest food you go out of the way to serve,
It would do me the greatest honour
if you named it The Greedy Cat Cafe'
So the cafe at last had a name,
'The Greedy Cat' it's now called,
Still everyday there go's that greedy cat,
Because of the food -
and Chris and Morgan's service with a smile -
he could never get bored.
02/01/06.
Knowing Idiots
Sunday.
I don't eat by myself
So I leave the television on
To fill in.
The food is cold in my fingers
And warm in my throat.
A forgotten rerun;
A sorry substitute for people.
Sundays are awful days
With such a lot to think about.
I think about
Where you are
Right now.
And how you are.
I hope you're sad.
Real sad.
I hope you feel like ripping your heart out.
But mostly I wonder
Why you are.
I don't like idiots.
You shouldn't be.
Saturday.
An idiot sits in front of me.
The idiots is happy with a lump of plasticine.
See how the plasticine, see how she changes
With me.
But child, you're not the one playing with plasticine.
It's the other way 'round.
Wednesday.
Saw the idiot in totality.
The idiot was all smiles.
I knew why
But didn't understand.
Idiots are beyond me.
What the idiots knows
Only the idiot knows.
The idiot is real smart.
So I want to give up on the idiot
While I'm still alive.
But before I do
I just want to see the idiot cry
And know what it's been like
And what it feels like
To be a fool.
poem by Shikha Gupta
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Wisdom Parrot
A call of 'key, key'
In the skies above the house
A kind of squeak
'Key, key' of parrots
Delivering a routine green evening
Signalling that my heart be open
To see one mounted by Kamadeva
Another one Andal holding in Her hand
Some more each with
Multi-faceted consort of Shiva
Another one, a guise, sage Arunagiri
Questing for Parijatha
And ofcourse parrot-faced Sukhabrahmam
Importantly preaching Bhagavatham...
Parrot parroting the Truth
Mortals' inner truth of wisdom-quest
Through love and desire
There's an enlightened plumage green and divine
Red-beaked from the 'Bakula'tree
Gazing at me 'key'key'ing
My heart blooms a smile
A parrot to parrot to me
The quest on wisdom
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Show and tell day
It was the day for show and tell
I took my pet parrot along to class
Everything went excessively well
Until it unexpectedly turned wild
It swept off the teacher’s secret wig
With a strong swoop from its perch
Everyone’s eyes turned really big
At the confused parrot’s sudden lurch
The stunned class went berserk
The parrot screeched in absolute fright
Panic seized Tommy, the anxious nerd
With lightning speed he took flight
Grabbing the teacher’s favourite jug
I filled it up with tidbits for my pet
Racing to the petrified bird over a rug
It responded to the treat as fast as a jet
My subdued parrot did not feel bad
Although it seemed a nervous wreck
The embarrassed teacher was fuming mad
Despite getting his precious wig back
Sea Of Land
My animals are swept from the sea and land,
They inhabit the outer realms when awake
But die when asleep, the peace is so immense for them.
My friendly parrot is upon my skull,
It needs my companionship like the rain and snow.
The sun and stars visit it in its sleep,
Yet it succumbs to me every day in my speech.
The animals also need me as they need my parrot,
The birds are flowing in the air, and my parrot dies.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Cafe Of Dreams
welcome to the cafe
the cafe of dreams
the cattle stand dry
dry of mouth parched
awaiting their slaughter
so that a tired worker
may enjoy a good steak
meat pie or sausages
ground meat salt herbs spices
fried lovingly in your frying pan
not young mince meat dying
politic rhetoric in Afghanistan
slaugherhouse cafe is open
not only for teenagers who
dine 'Café des Abbatoirs'
die daily like passing cattle
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Outside the Café
Outside the Café
where I was having coffee,
a red BMW without number plates
died on the driver
and was flashing lights
and its hooter went off.
Inside of it I saw a face
of a ugly white man,
with a wig upon his head
and the look in his eye
spelled out dread.
Be careful
he’s got a gun,
the café’s owner warned
and I looked away
as if the man was not there.
Thrice I called
that one zero triple one number
from my cell phone
and no police did appear,
while the criminal was near
as if my calls was in vain.
No cars are available
they said
and on the next morning,
a squadron of police
was knocking my door down
and eight cars and a helicopter
was waiting outside.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Blue Cafe
My world is miles of endless roads
That leaves a trail of broken dreams
Where have you been
I hear you say?
I will meet you at the Blue Cafe
Because, this is wear the one who knows
Meets the one that does not care
The cards of fate
The older shows
To the younger one, who dares to tale
The chance of no return
Where have you been?
Where are you going to?
I want to know what is new
I want to go with you
What have you seen?
What do you know that is new?
Where are you going to?
Because I want to go with you
So meet me down at the Blue Cafe
The cost is great, the price is high
Take all you know, and say goodbye
Your innocence, inexperience
Mean nothing now
Because, this is where the one who knows
Meets the one that does not care
Where have you been?
I hear you say
I'll meet you at the Blue Cafe
So meet me at the Blue Cafe
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lovely White Flowers
He went inside the cafe where they used to sit together.
It was here, three months ago, that his friend told him:
'We're completely broke -so hard up, the two of us,
that we're stuck with the cheapest places.
I can't go around with you any more -it's no use hiding the fact.
I've got to tell you, somebody else is after me.'
The 'somebody else' had promised him two suits, some silk handkerchiefs.
He himself, to get his friend back,
went through hell rounding up twenty pounds.
His friend came back to him for the twenty pounds-
but along with that, for their old intimacy,
their old love, for the deep feeling between them.
The 'somebody else' was a liar, a real bum:
he'd ordered only one suit for his friend,
and that under pressure, after much begging.
But now he doesn't want the suits any longer,
he doesn't want the silk handkerchiefs at all,
or twenty pounds, or twenty piastres even.
Sunday they buried him, at ten in the morning.
Sunday they buried him, almost a week ago.
He laid flowers on his cheap coffin,
lovely white flowers, very much in keeping
with his beauty, his twenty-two years.
When he went to the cafe that evening
he happened to have some vital business there
to that same cafe where they used to go together,
it was a knife in his heart,
that dead cafe where they used to go together.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Cafe Prague.
Cream coloured coffee
And hot buttered toast
August sunshine
A packet of cigarettes
Talks on love and life
Friends and strangers all together
Days of summer
Seated on outside chairs
Tears and laughter
Mixed in the air
Of the perfect day just us and them
Cafe pavements
The world at view
Paris, Rome and cafe Prague
Used coffee cups
And ashtrays too
Paris, Rome and cafe Prague
Trendy young girls
And the wannabe author
Auster, Adams and Mr. Salinger
Days of dreaming
The perfect film
In view for all to see
Hello, hello
So good to see you
Was it twelve?
Or maybe it was two
I’ll sit and wait
And think of you
Cafe pavements
For me and you
Pairs, Rome and cafe Prague
Dirty spoons and knives
And glasses too
Paris, Rome and cafe Prague
Teacups and Earl grey
And ice cream sundaes
Black and white life
In full technicolour
Light my cigarette
And I’ll listen all day
Sunshine days
Storm clouds - away
The table over there
Just a smiling man
For today - all alone
Waiting his time
Cafe pavements
The world today
Paris, Rome and cafe Prague
Beautiful Ladies
And business gents
Paris, Rome and Cafe Prague
Student cameras
And picture painting
Hollywood lifestyle
In the common street
Brando, Dean and Al Pacino
Next to you and me
See you later
Maybe tomorrow
Give me a ring
And we’ll make a date
I’ll sit and think
And wait for you
Cafe pavements
For meetings and lunch
Paris, Rome and cafe Prague
Perfect tables
And used up chairs
Paris, Rome and cafe Prague
poem by Patrick Sant
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Real Art
Real Art
I woke up a blue neon light, outside my hotel room,
kept lightning up my space, I looked out and saw
a man in a cafe sitting by the counter eating a burger,
he had hat on and looked ca 1948.
Knew I was in an Edward Hopper painting but didn’t
want to be a part of his bleak cityscape of lone men
who live in cheap hotels and drink coffee in a cafe,
which clientele are lost souls like me.
I splashed water in my face adjusted my tie put my
hat on and walked out, a cab drove by looking for
a fare, I opened the cafe’s door, the man with hat had
gone, drank coffee and ate a doughnut.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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I think a cute movie idea would be about a parrot who is raised by eagles. It would be cute because the parrot can't seem to act like an eagle. After a while, though, to keep the movie from getting boring, maybe put in some pornography. Later, we see the happy parrot flying along, acting like an eagle. He see two parrots below and starts to attack, but it's his parents. Then, some more pornography.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sad Cafe
Out in the shiny night the rain
was softly falling
The tracks that ran down the boulevard had
all been washed away
Out of the silver light the past came softly calling
And I remember the times we spent
inside the Sad Cafe
Oh it seemed like a holy place
protected by amazing grace
And we would sing right out loud the
things we could not say
We thought we could change this world
with words like "love" and "freedom"
We were part of the lonely crowd
Inside the Sad Cafe
Oh, expecting to fly,
we would meet on that shore in the
sweet by and by
Some of their dreams came true,
some just passed away
And some of the stayed behind
inside the Sad Cafe.
The clouds rolled in and hid that shore
Now that Glory Train, it don't stop here no more
Now I look at the years gone by,
and wonder at the powers that be.
I don't know why fortune smiles on some
and let's the rest go free
Maybe the time has drawn the faces I recall
But things in this life change very slowly,
if they ever change at all
There's no use in asking why,
it just turned out that way
So meet me at midnight baby
inside the Sad Cafe.
Why don't you meet me at midnight baby,
inside the Sad Cafe
song performed by by Eagles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Idiot Son Of An Asshole
He's not smart, a C student
And that's after buying his way into school
Beady eyes, and he's kinda dyslexic
Can he read? No one's really quite sure
He signs stuff and he executes people
Maybe that's why, he doesn't have any friends
Cocaine and a little drunk driving
Doesn't matter, when you're the Commander in Chief.
Idiot son of an asshole
He's the idiot son of an asshole
Idiot son of an asshole
He's the idiot son of an asshole
Put on some make-up, turn on the 8-Track,
I'm putting a week back on the shelf,
Suddenly I'm the President, of the United States,
But then I woke up, and realized I'm still me.
He's too dumb, to eat pretzels, apparently smart enough to fix an election.
Moved boldly into the White House,
but most people voted against him.
He likes naps, He really likes naptime, A couple of naps and then a nap and then he's ready for bed,
He may be from Bush decent, but he's always gonna be the unpresident.
Idiot son of an asshole
He's the idiot son of an asshole
Idiot son of an asshole
He's the idiot son of an asshole
Idiot son of an asshole
He's the idiot son of an asshole
He's our president!
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Idiot Son Of An Asshole
NoFX - Idiot Son Of An Asshole lyrics
He's not smart, a C student
And that's after buying his way into school
Beady eyes, and he's kinda dyslexic
Can he read? No one's really quite sure
He signs stuff and he executes people
Maybe that's why, he doesn't have any friends
Cocaine and a little drunk driving
Doesn't matter, when you're the Commander in Chief.
Idiot son of an asshole
He's the idiot son of an asshole
Idiot son of an asshole
He's the idiot son of an asshole
(***not in the video version on The War On Errorism****
Put on some make-up, turn on the 8-Track,
I'm putting a week back on the shelf,
Suddenly I'm the President, of the United States,
But they I woke up, and realized I'm still me. )
He's too dumb, to eat pretzels, apparently smart enough to fix an election.
Moved boldly into the White House,
though most people voted against him.
He likes naps, He's good at naptime, A couple of naps and then a nap and then he's ready for
bed,
He may be from Bush decent, He's always gonna, gonna be the un-precedent
Idiot son of an asshole
He's the idiot son of an asshole
Idiot son of an asshole
He's the idiot son of an asshole
Idiot son of an asshole
He's the idiot son of an asshole
He's our president!
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sad Cafe
Out in the shiny night, the rain
Was softly falling
The tracks that ran down the boulevard had
All been washed away
Out of the silver light, the past came softly calling
And I remember the times we spent
Inside the sad cafe
Oh, it seemed like a holy place,
Protected by amazing grace
And we would sing right out loud, the
Things we could not say
We thought we could change this world
With words like love and freedom
We were part of the lonely crowd
Inside the sad cafe
Oh, expecting to fly,
We would meet on that beautiful shore in the
Sweet by and by
Some of their dreams came true,
Some just passed away
And some of the stayed behind
Inside the sad cafe.
The clouds rolled in and hid that shore
Now that glory train, it dont stop here no more
Now I look at the years gone by,
And wonder at the powers that be.
I dont know why fortune smiles on some
And lets the rest go free
Maybe the time has drawn the faces I recall
But things in this life change very slowly,
If they ever change at all
Theres no use in asking why,
It just turned out that way
So meet me at midnight baby
Inside the sad cafe.
Why dont you meet me at midnight baby,
Inside the sad cafe.
song performed by by Eagles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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