Love your Neighbour as Yourself
When the robbers loot your neighbour,
you are within the doors shut.
You are the next target
in that route.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Related quotes
Startled Are Those Robbers
Startled are those robbers,
That had came to thieve.
Quite startled are those robbers stunned,
Begging for a forgiveness on bended knees.
And the hiding places,
Where startled robbers had once hid...
Are blocked to stop an entry,
With cracks and crevices from them now sealed.
Startled are those robbers...
Finding no one wants to bother.
No one wants to bother with robbers...
Chased away and startled by the mobs.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Neighbour
Neighbour
is good
Friend...
Neighbour is
good relation...
Neighbour is
Your brother...
Neighbour is
Your sister...
Neighbour is
Your mother...
Neighbour is
father and gran father...
All are thear...
Neighbour is
Not neighbour...also
your family...
Love it...
Help it...
Enjoy it...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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The Treasure Of The Wise Man
O the night was dark and the night was late,
And the robbers came to rob him;
And they picked the locks of his palace-gate,
The robbers that came to rob him--
They picked the locks of his palace-gate,
Seized his jewels and gems of state,
His coffers of gold and his priceless plate,--
The robbers that came to rob him.
But loud laughed he in the morning red!--
For of what had the robbers robbed him?--
Ho! hidden safe, as he slept in bed,
When the robbers came to rob him,--
They robbed him not of a golden shred
Of the childish dreams in his wise old head--
'And they're welcome to all things else,' he said,
When the robbers came to rob him.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Baby Blues
(bth australian version)
I wonder whats happening to me
Things are changing so dramatically
Ill search for you, youre not really there
Still I wonder knowing that you do care
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up, I shut up
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up now
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up, I shut up
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up now
I shut up now, I shut up now
I shut up now, I shut up now
He is the best thing to come my way
Perfect picture baby blues in my day
He is the best thing to come around
Sleeping in his cradle safe and sound
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up, I shut up
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up now
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up, I shut up
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up now
I shut up now, I shut up now
I shut up now, I shut up now
Baby blues, baby blues
Baby blues, baby blues
Baby baby, baby blues
Baby baby, baby blues
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
song performed by by Cranberries
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thief plans to loot,
Taking the correct route,
I think he has his own GOD to guide!
haiku by V.K. Kanniappan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Only The Loot Can Make You Happy
Uh rockland in my life
Uh huh track masters youre all I need in my life make money
Uh duece duece youre all I need in my life
Uh huh yo yo yo yo
I remember in the days
Yall niggas talkin all that s about keepin it real
But when it comes to this game imma play the field
Rockland had loot before we signed the deal
Haters get in the way and catch the sky like seal
We used to use the streets for the football field
In church free lunch was our only meal
But now we push whips with lorenzo wheels
Living it up in beverly hills
You know 9 to 5 was only temporary
Now the ladies wanna find tone in a hurry
Got em hittin notes that mariah couldnt carry
All you player haters going down like mary
Cop the rolls royce a player with a choice
Ladies stay moist from the sound of my voice
The lady killers pass the keys to our villas
Rockland track masters top billers
Only the loot can make me happy nuttin but the loot baby
Happy show me the loot baby
Happy show me the loot
Only the loot can make me happy nuttin but the loot baby
Happy show me the loot baby
So happy show me the loot
I never thought that i
Could make someone like you
I felt energized
When you went through my groove
Ill never let you go no
Youre so right for me
Ive got to let you know
Forever you and me the ballas anthem right here
Only the loot can make me happy show me the loot baby
Happy nuttin but the loot baby
Happy show me the loot baby
Only the loot can make me happy nuttin but the loot baby
Happy show me the loot baby
So happy show me the loot
You must be heaven sent
Sent into my life
And I compliment you honey the money nuttin but the loot baby
We have a love thats long and true
I make you in many ways
Ive got to roll with you
Each and every day
Only the loot can make me happy nuttin but the loot baby
Happy nuttin but the loot baby
Happy ah hah
Only the loot can make me happy nuttin but the loot baby
Happy nuttin but the loot baby
So happy nuttin but the loot
Youre all I need in my life in my life
I dont need no one I dont need no one but you mmm hmm mmm hmm
Mmm hmm
Youre all I need in my life
I dont need no one mmm hmm I dont need no one but you
Said youre all I need in my life in my life
I dont need no one I dont need no one but you
Youre all I need in my life
I dont need no one I dont need no one but you you know what im
Sayin
Only the loot can make me happy nuttin but the loot baby
Oh happy r kelly
So happy r kelly
Only the loot can make me happy rockland
So happy track masters
So happy nuttin but the loot
Only the loot can make me happy
Oh happy help me out
So happy show me the loot
Only the loot can make me happy nuttin but the loot baby
Happy nuttin but the loot baby
So happy
All I need in my life in my life in my life woo nuttin but the
Loot
Said youre all I need in my life in my life in my life nuttin but
The loot baby
song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ballad Of Moll Magee
COME round me, little childer;
There, don't fling stones at me
Because I mutter as I go;
But pity Moll Magee.
My man was a poor fisher
With shore lines in the say;
My work was saltin' herrings
The whole of the long day.
And sometimes from the Saltin' shed
I scarce could drag my feet,
Under the blessed moonlight,
Along thc pebbly street.
I'd always been but weakly,
And my baby was just born;
A neighbour minded her by day,
I minded her till morn.
I lay upon my baby;
Ye little childer dear,
I looked on my cold baby
When the morn grew frosty and clear.
A weary woman sleeps so hard!
My man grew red and pale,
And gave me money, and bade me go
To my own place, Kinsale.
He drove me out and shut the door.
And gave his curse to me;
I went away in silence,
No neighbour could I see.
The windows and the doors were shut,
One star shone faint and green,
The little straws were turnin round
Across the bare boreen.
I went away in silence:
Beyond old Martin's byre
I saw a kindly neighbour
Blowin' her mornin' fire.
She drew from me my story --
My money's all used up,
And still, with pityin', scornin' eye,
She gives me bite and sup.
She says my man will surely come
And fetch me home agin;
But always, as I'm movin' round,
Without doors or within,
Pilin' the wood or pilin' the turf,
Or goin' to the well,
I'm thinkin' of my baby
And keenin' to mysel'.
And Sometimes I am sure she knows
When, openin' wide His door,
God lights the stats, His candles,
And looks upon the poor.
So now, ye little childer,
Ye won't fling stones at me;
But gather with your shinin' looks
And pity Moll Magee.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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All The Hatred Around Us
I am a target!
You are a target!
He is a target!
She is a target!
Because of the hatred around us.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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3rd Of June
This is the 3rd of june, 1988
A highly unimportant day
Some airplane gliding into one of the bigger clouds over manhattan
In a downtown far away, mr. toomy, our face in a crowd
The city was slow and tired
The wall street boys wearing their ties around their neck
Like boxers towels after a fight
Mr. toomy stopped his pinstripe suit outside a barber shop
Looked at his face, took off his jacket and stepped on it
Whos that, whats that, what do you mean
Ill never know where I lost my dream
Whos that, whats that, gimme your name
3rd of june, end of game
No looking to the right
No looking to the left
Lenny is a target and always on track
Lenny is a target and nobody shoots
Lenny is a target lost the route
Ruins of a childs old fantasy
Ruins of a child was [? ]
Lenny is a target and nobody shoots
Lenny is a target lost the route
Whos that, whats that, what do you mean
Ill never know when I lost my dream
Whos that, whats that, gimme your name
3rd of june, end of game
Mr. toomy stopped his pinstripe suit outside a barber shop
Looked at his face
Took off his jacket
Put it on the pavement
Stepped on it
And started preaching like a monk from another world
After some minutes, he had a little crowd
Which dissappeared when a police car passed by slowly
Like rolling gloom
And mr. toomy throws his voice til he was the only one in the area
At this early night of june 3rd, 1988
Whos that, whats that, what do you mean
Ill never know when I lost my dream
Whos that, whats that, gimme your name
3rd of june, end of game
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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3rd Of June
This is the 3rd of june, 1988
A highly unimportant day
Some airplane gliding into one of the bigger clouds over manhattan
In a downtown far away, mr. toomy, our face in a crowd
The city was slow and tired
The wall street boys wearing their ties around their neck
Like boxers towels after a fight
Mr. toomy stopped his pinstripe suit outside a barber shop
Looked at his face, took off his jacket and stepped on it
Whos that, whats that, what do you mean
Ill never know where I lost my dream
Whos that, whats that, gimme your name
3rd of june, end of game
No looking to the right
No looking to the left
Lenny is a target and always on track
Lenny is a target and nobody shoots
Lenny is a target lost the route
Ruins of a childs old fantasy
Ruins of a child was [? ]
Lenny is a target and nobody shoots
Lenny is a target lost the route
Whos that, whats that, what do you mean
Ill never know when I lost my dream
Whos that, whats that, gimme your name
3rd of june, end of game
Mr. toomy stopped his pinstripe suit outside a barber shop
Looked at his face
Took off his jacket
Put it on the pavement
Stepped on it
And started preaching like a monk from another world
After some minutes, he had a little crowd
Which dissappeared when a police car passed by slowly
Like rolling gloom
And mr. toomy throws his voice til he was the only one in the area
At this early night of june 3rd, 1988
Whos that, whats that, what do you mean
Ill never know when I lost my dream
Whos that, whats that, gimme your name
3rd of june, end of game
song performed by by Yello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hotels
The room is free
Each for himself
A new arrival
Pays by the month
The boss is doubtful
Whether you’ll pay
Like a top
I spin on the way
The traffic noise
My neighbour gross
Who puffs an acrid
English smoke
O La Vallière
Who limps and smiles
In my prayers
The bedside table
And all the company
in this hotel
know the languages
of Babel
Let’s shut our doors
With a double lock
And each adore
his lonely love
poem by Guillaume Apollinaire
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ambulances
With screaming sirens
and flashing red lights
they cut right through traffic
and the white vehicles,
appear and disappear
at any time of day.
Where life flows away
with the passage of age
and time,
where destiny strikes
and robbers leave their mark,
cars join together in force
or illness impart
its impact on humanity
they rush
to bring a sense
of caring and hope.
White doors open and close
and some are helped
and in time
grow well again
and for others,
grey blankets are drawn
right over them
and in time coffin lids
are hammered shut.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Be not mad of targets.
A target is given; you are in tension.
It seems a hard one; anxiety sets in.
You put extra efforts; you’re in stress.
Hurdles crop; you are in strain.
Hope fades; you are in pain.
Hope revives; you recover.
The target achieved; full of joy.
The target aborted; full of sorrow.
Take light the target and enjoy.
03.06.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Man And The Robbers
A MAN HAD GONE TO HIS BANK AND WITHDREW A LARGE SUM OF MONEY, AND ON HIS WAY BACK, HE SUDDENLY HAPPENED UPON A CREW OF ROBBERS AND HE TURNED BACK AND RAN AWAY AS FAST AS HIS LEGS COULD RUN!
AS HE RAN AWAY, HE SUDDENLY RAN INTO A CREW OF NIGERIAN POLICEMEN! AND THE MAN WAS FLABBERGASTED, HE DIDN'T KNOW WHICH WAY TO RUN ANYMORE AND HE SUDDENLY TURNED BACK AND BEGAN TO RUN TOWARDS THE ROBBERS AND HE SHOUTED AS HE RAN, WAIT MR ROBBER! WAIT!
THE SURPRISED ROBBERS STOOD WHILE HE CAME TO THEM AND HUMBLY HANDED THE MONEY OVER TO THEM, AND ONE OF THEM ASKED, WHY DID YOU RETURN TO GIVE US THE MONEY WE WANTED TO ROB YOU OF? AND HE REPLIED, OH, AS I RAN AWAY FROM YOU, I RAN INTO A CREW OF NIGERIAN POLICEMEN! AND I DECIDED TO COME BACK AND GIVE YOU ROBBERS THE MONEY INSTEAD!
A CURIOUS ROBBER ASKED, WHY DID YOU PREFER TO GIVE US THE MONEY? AND THE MAN SAID, OH, WELL, YOU ROBBERS WOULD ROB ME AND LEAVE ME ALIVE, BUT THE NIGERIAN POLICEMEN WOULD ROB ME, THEN SHOOT ME DEAD AND TELL THE WORLD THAT I WAS THE ROBBER! STATED THE MAN TO THE ASTONISHED ROBBERS
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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Packt Like Sardines In A Crushd Tin Box
there are bomb? doors and there are revolving doors doors on the rudders of big ships and there are revolving doors there are doors that open by themselves there are sliding doors and there are secret doors there are doors that lock and doors that don't there are doors that let you in and out but never open but there are trap doors that you can't come back from
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pull / Pulk Revolving Doors
There are barn doors
And there are revolving doors
Doors on the rudders of big ships
And there are revolving doors
There are doors that open by themselves
There are sliding doors
And there are secret doors
There are doors that lock
And doors that dont
There are doors that let you in
And out
But never open
But there are trapdoors
That you cant come back from
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pull Pulk Revolving Doors
There are barn doors
And there are revolving doors
Doors on the rudders of big ships
We are revolving doors
There are doors that open by themselves
There are sliding doors
And there are secret doors
There are doors that lock
And doors that don't
There are doors that let you in
And out
But never open
But they are trapdoors
That you can't come back from
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loot
If you've ever stole a pheasant-egg be'ind the keeper's back,
If you've ever snigged the washin' from the line,
If you've ever crammed a gander in your bloomin' 'aversack,
You will understand this little song o' mine.
But the service rules are 'ard, an' from such we are debarred,
For the same with English morals does not suit.
(~Cornet~: Toot! toot!)
W'y, they call a man a robber if 'e stuffs 'is marchin' clobber
With the --
(~Chorus~) Loo! loo! Lulu! lulu! Loo! loo! Loot! loot! loot!
Ow the loot!
Bloomin' loot!
That's the thing to make the boys git up an' shoot!
It's the same with dogs an' men,
If you'd make 'em come again
Clap 'em forward with a Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot!
(~ff~) Whoopee! Tear 'im, puppy! Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot!
If you've knocked a nigger edgeways when 'e's thrustin' for your life,
You must leave 'im very careful where 'e fell;
An' may thank your stars an' gaiters if you didn't feel 'is knife
That you ain't told off to bury 'im as well.
Then the sweatin' Tommies wonder as they spade the beggars under
Why lootin' should be entered as a crime;
So if my song you'll 'ear, I will learn you plain an' clear
'Ow to pay yourself for fightin' overtime.
(~Chorus~) With the loot, . . .
Now remember when you're 'acking round a gilded Burma god
That 'is eyes is very often precious stones;
An' if you treat a nigger to a dose o' cleanin'-rod
'E's like to show you everything 'e owns.
When 'e won't prodooce no more, pour some water on the floor
Where you 'ear it answer 'ollow to the boot
(~Cornet~: Toot! toot!) --
When the ground begins to sink, shove your baynick down the chink,
An' you're sure to touch the --
(~Chorus~) Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot!
Ow the loot! . . .
When from 'ouse to 'ouse you're 'unting, you must always work in pairs --
It 'alves the gain, but safer you will find --
For a single man gets bottled on them twisty-wisty stairs,
An' a woman comes and clobs 'im from be'ind.
When you've turned 'em inside out, an' it seems beyond a doubt
As if there weren't enough to dust a flute
(~Cornet~: Toot! toot!) --
Before you sling your 'ook, at the 'ousetops take a look,
For it's underneath the tiles they 'ide the loot.
(~Chorus~) Ow the loot! . . .
You can mostly square a Sergint an' a Quartermaster too,
If you only take the proper way to go;
~I~ could never keep my pickin's, but I've learned you all I knew --
An' don't you never say I told you so.
An' now I'll bid good-bye, for I'm gettin' rather dry,
An' I see another tunin' up to toot
(~Cornet~: Toot! toot!) --
So 'ere's good-luck to those that wears the Widow's clo'es,
An' the Devil send 'em all they want o' loot!
(~Chorus~) Yes, the loot,
Bloomin' loot!
In the tunic an' the mess-tin an' the boot!
It's the same with dogs an' men,
If you'd make 'em come again
(~fff~) Whoop 'em forward with a Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot!
Heeya! Sick 'im, puppy! Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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My Door Is A Lamp
One day You ask: What are you up to?
- I work for lattices
And concoct doors for lamps.
The door to heaven will be split,
My doors shall turn into gates
Encircling my heaven of Old.
Radiation picks up from Hell,
Heaven closes its gates,
And my doors open and shut
To let Me only enter
My heaven and Paradise.
poem by Naveed Akram
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(Get Your Kicks On) Route 66
If you ever plan to motor west
Travel my way, take the highway that's the best
A-get your kicks on Route sixty-six
It winds from Chicago to LA
More than two thousand miles all the way
Get your kicks on Route sixty-six
Now you go through Saint Looey
Joplin, Missouri
And Oklahoma City looks mi-ighty pretty
You'll see Amarillo
Gallup, New Mexico
Flagstaff, Arizona
Don't forget Winona
Kingman, Barstow, San Bernandino
Won't you get hip to this timely tip
When you make that California trip
A-get your kicks on Route sixty-six
Won't you get hip to this ti-imely tip
When you make a-that California trip
A-get your kicks on Route sixty-six
A-get your kicks on Route sixty-six
Get your kicks on Route sixty-six
song performed by by Nat King Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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