En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Stupidity Street

I saw with open eyes
Singing birds sweet
Sold in the shops
For people to eat,
Sold in the shops of
Stupidity Street.
I saw in vision
The worm in the wheat,
And in the shops nothing
For people to eat;
Nothing for sale in
Stupidity Street.

poem by Ralph Hodgson
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Avenue Of Love

(9/24/12)

Love is an avenue of which to explore
Go to any shop and open the door
Shops for every feeling known to man
Walk in to understand.

Shops for pain, sorrow, bitterness and heartbreak
Shop around - it's not to late.
Shops for joy, happiness, contentment, devotion
Shops for every emotion.

Stop in - look around - feel every emotion
That can be found.
Shop around ahead of time
To find out what awaits down the line.

But do not be fearful of pains
That may await
Take the chance - don't hesitate.

You can search every shop that's on this street
But there is nothing that can compete
To the love that you have deep inside
A love so beautiful that you can not hide

All these shops are in your soul
Open the doors and life unfolds.

© L. RAMS

poem by Louis Rams
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There are apothecaries' shops, where prepared medicines, liquids, ointments, and plasters are sold; barbers' shops, where they wash and shave the head; and restaurateurs, that furnish food and drink at a certain price.

quote by Hernando Cortes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Supermarket

I paid a visit to the shops,
On the arrival my wits died;
Money was exercised and I was made,
My own business stayed in the eyes,
The money made me rich and also richer.
No game was in the air, the shops,
The shops, and more shops.
This was a supermarket bustling with goods,
Food employed me to encounter it,
The wit of dying came to ruins,
The care of dying was living,
And this was the supermarket.

poem by Naveed Akram
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The Culture Of Stupidity

Open your naive eyes…..,
To the Culture Of Stupidity….,
It’s all around you….,
The Culture Of Stupidity ….! !

No way to escape….,
From the Culture Of Stupidity ….,
It haunts and stalks you…,
The Culture Of Stupidity ….! !

It’s hard to believe it….,
The Culture Of Stupidity ….,
That so many can’t see it….,
The Culture Of Stupidity …! !

As liberals keep shying away…..,
From the overwhelming threat…..,
Of radical terrorism today…..,
How long will The Culture Of Stupidity go on….? ?
My answer is as simple as this….,
The Culture Of Stupidity shall live on…..,
As long as humankind and liberalism will exist…! !

poem by Trade Martin
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The Culture Of Stupidity

Open your eyes…..,
To the Culture Of Stupidity….,
It’s all around us….,
The Culture Of Stupidity ….! ! !

We can’t escape….,
From the Culture Of Stupidity ….,
It haunts and annoys us…,
The Culture Of Stupidity ….! ! !

It’s hard to believe it….,
The Culture Of Stupidity ….,
Why so many can’t see it….,
The Culture Of Stupidity …! ! !

So tell me, The Culture Of Stupidity ….,
How long will it go on….? ? ?

The answer is as simple as this….,

The Culture Of Stupidity shall live…..,
As long as humankind will exist…! ! !

poem by Trade Martin
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In Sandringham

In Sandringham by the Pacific sea
The Town is quiet on this August sunday
Most of the shops for the weekend have closed
And dark rain clouds hang low above the bay

But Sandringham is not always like this
In Spring and Summer 'tis a busy Town
On sundays shops are open people crowd the street
From mid morning until the sun go down

But I would prefer Sandringham like this
I sit here in quiet cafe sipping tea
And only a few locals to be seen
And loudest sound the rolling of the sea.

The silver gulls outside the cafe door
They wait for handouts chips and scraps of bread
But man made food not much good for their health
It slowly kills them so it has been said.

I love the sea side towns on days like these
The streets are quiet and few people to be seen
And the loudest sound the rolling of the waves
And a soul soothing tranquility reign supreme.

In Sandringham by the Pacific sea
The Town is quiet on this August sunday
Most of the shops for the weekend have closed
And dark rain clouds hang low above the bay.

poem by Francis Duggan
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What for is money?

I thought on how could be the life
Without having to work for money.
After all this is the money which we work for.

Had we only have enough money to spend
We won’t have to toil our body or brain.
Solution also seemed very easy to me.

Just have a lot of mints to mint money.
Make as much money as may people need
Give them as much as may people want.

All problems are seemingly soon gone.
The root of all evils I thought could be
the root of happiness of all kind instead.

“How could this easy way out be overlooked? ”
Thinking furthermore I thought.
We need mints and we need paper and ink.

We need banks and a lot of ATMs.
People will get money and go for shopping
So we need ample shops. In shops we need products.

We need make shops and we need make products.
but we also need people to run them.
So some people will make paper and some ink.

Some other will work in mints and banks.
Some will work in shops and making products.
Rest all the people will only happily buy things.

Thinking up to here my thought jumbled.

People needed money so they worked.
If money was available for doing no work
Then why should there be anyone to work?

If no one works then where from comes paper and ink?
Where from comes money, banksand ATMs?
Where from then comes products?

Without products how could then we live and enjoy?

So we need products and for products we need to work,
to get people into the works we need money.
So it was that money could not be made free.

I thought 'People have already thought it before me.'

poem by Palas kumar Ray
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Yule Fever (With apologies to the King's Minstrel)

I must go down to the shops again, to the crowded shops go I
And all I have is a long list of the gifts that I must buy,
And a few bob in the old kick and a mere spot of credit;
For he'll trust me, so the boss said, but I hate the way he said it.

I must go down to the shops again, for the call of Christmastide
Is a stern call and a hard call that may not be denied.
And all I ask is a fair choice at reasonable prices
And a hard heart for bland blokes with blandishing devices.

I must go down to the shops again. There's gifts for Mum and Dad
And Jim's gift and Joe's gift and toy for Peter's lad.
Then all I want are gloves for Clare? And June? I'll send her roses,
And - who's next? The list says - I've lost it! Holy Moses!

But I must go down to the shops again, to the shops and the milling crowd
On a hot day and a fierce day when the skies know ne'er a cloud;
And all I ask is a fair spin 'mid the masses overheating
And the loud bawl of the bored babe, and the toy drums beating.

I must go down to the shops again, for I would be counted still
With the kind ./.. of the free hand in this season of goodwill;
And all I ask is a stout heart to carry on undaunted
While we scour town for the salt-pot that we know Aunt Annie wanted.

I must go down to the shops again, for they'll ply me, sure as fate
With the pink tie and the puce sock, and I must reciprocate.
But all I ask is a long seat when the weary trek is finished
And enough left for the Yule feast ere the bank-roll be dimished.

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Be yourself? Or act? Hide?

People are people,
Trees are trees,
Chairs are chairs,
Leaves are leaves,
Boxes are boxes,
Glasses are glasses,
Shops are shops,
Passers by are just passers,

People are the people they were born to be,
Whether that makes them “normal” or not,
Some people are totally care free,
Some people care an awful lot,

If someone is gay,
Then they are themselves,
If someone is lesbian,
Then they are themselves,
If someone is fat,
They are themselves,
If someone is thin,
They are themselves,

Some people act,
They act as other people,
They don’t want to be themselves,
They mustn’t be happy,

If you are who you are,
And receive grief,
They are only jealous,
If you are not who you are,
People look at you in pity,
They aren’t so jealous,
You can never win,
Do you be yourself?
Do you act?
Either way people judge wrong,
Is it them covering?
Is it them acting?
Are they themselves?
Or are they also hiding?

poem by Jodie Louise Pollock
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The Streets

Understand me now, how I arrange my life,
Why do I limp and clumsily speak to the only people
On the street?
The street is a wedding with the busy,
The street works wonders on the rich, as
Fame is a delivery to the weak,
When the streets look at you!
Shops are crowded now, when I know how to buy
The rude works!
Understand the religion of the streets,
As we entertain the living, the steering is unique.

poem by Naveed Akram
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The Mall

Shops, snack bars

Chains of shops

To chain you to shopping

Lights, gleaming paint

Amusements galore

Kids hang out

At the mall

The modern day

Consumer fair

Built, just to consume

YOU

poem by Jason Palmer
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As Time Goes By

In our town there were many small shops, one selling
buttons the other socks; and a hardware store should
you need a hammer and nails to hang up a picture of
your mother -in- law, in the living room.

There was also a shop selling scarves, another selling
ladies hats, and a third one, quite posh, selling suits and
ties. I mustn’t forget the shoe shop, leather footwear
black or brown and white tennis shoes.

In our street of trade most shops have shut, those still
open are run by the Orientals where you can buy all
you need for a very small price. If your shoes wear out,
no point going to the old cobbler, buy Chinese instead.

Red lanterns sway in the fiscal breeze of decline where
wistfulness has no price tag. But you must remember
this, a shop is just a shop, yet, for us sentimental fools,
are remembered as a sweet memory of times gone by,

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Christmas - A Little Friend's Poem - Written By Amy Boothby, aged 10

Are you...........
ready for Christmas? , to decorate the tree,
The sparkling baubles that shine with glee,
The shops are filled with Christmas galore,
But the people are shouting, 'We want more',
Each and every leaf, is covered in snow,
We're still waiting for Santa's Ho! Ho! Ho! ,
The Christmas lights, light up the street,
Presents to open, people to greet,
Look what's under the tall green tree,
Are these presents all for me?

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Infestations

I Googled New York yesterday
on Google maps, I have to say
and took the little yellow man
to walk upon the street and play.

I walked along the streets as him,
I saw the yellow taxi cabs,
I saw the shops and people there
and suddenly I felt quite scared,

for in amongst the thronging crowd
no animals did scamp around
as all the people hurried by
a world infested by mankind.

poem by Ruth Walters
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Water (Acrostic)

Water is my favourite drink,
At times the best thing to quench a thirst
That comes to me suddenly,
Even though it's abundantly available
Refined, pure specimens are sold in shops.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Publicity Sells

I make the herbal oil
and sell it door to door cheap..
The branded oil is sold
At shops at double the prize.
Yet mine goes begging.

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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It's a story of little girls who are pressed into working in sweat shops in games, who spend all day doing repetitive grinding tasks like making shirts, which are then converted into gold and sold on eBay.

quote by Cory Doctorow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stupidity

Stupidity, woe's anodyne,
Be kind and comfort me in mine;
Smooth out the furrows of my brow,
Make me as carefree as a cow,
Content to sleep and eat and drink
And never think

Stupidity, let me be blind
To all the ills of humankind;
Fill me with simple sentiment
To walk the way my father went;
School me to sweat with robot folk
Beneath the yoke.

Stupidity, keep in their place
The moiling masses of my race,
And bid the lowly multitude
Be humble as a people should;
Learn us with patient hearts, I pray,
Lords to obey.

Stupidity and Ignorance,
Be you our buffers 'mid mischance;
Endoctrine us to do your will,
And other stupid people kill;
Fool us with hope of Life to be,
Great god to whom we bow the knee,
--STUPIDITY.

poem by Robert William Service
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Ghost Town

This town is becoming like a ghost town;
Many of our local shops are closing down.
Once upon a time, this town was really hopping,
But now people go elsewhere for their shopping.

The life from our town has been sucked out,
And nowadays there is hardly anyone about.
Local people go to other towns and cities:
That it has ended up this way, is a real pity.

The town's population is rapidly growing,
But trade in our shops is rapidly slowing.
Many units stand empty for years and years:
Owners found the rents were just way too dear.

We need some life breathed back into town;
We need to turn this situation back around.
Of help for new businesses, we need much more,
So that our town can be the place it was before.

poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Lovely Lady Linnea

A winsome lass I spied one day
Who cared not for herself.
As she went on her winsome way,
She thanked God for her health.
From street-to-street and road-to-road,
She raised funds for the poor
And so her blessings overflowed
As she knocked door-to-door.
With total love her foremost thought,
Her soft voice spoke to me.
I told her of the things I'd bought
Supporting charity.
I passed them to their High Street shops,
Where they'd be sold anew
And so the blessing never stops,
As I bade them, 'Adieu! '
To hold things back, while others starve,
Is cruelty indeed.
The world is one big cake to carve,
Yet still some pray in need.
She made me think of years ago,
When charities helped me,
When savings were so hard to grow -
Ask any family...
When I looked back, my heart gave thanks.
I promised that I'd give
And as before, from out my banks,
My money helped some live.
Though I may never know their names,
I've helped fulfil God's plan.
Like Jesus, Peter, John and James,
I've helped my fellow man.
The winsome lass continued on...
Another street to bless...
And in a moment she was gone...
With smiles of happiness...

poem by Denis Martindale
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