April Fool
Georgie sat upon 3-leg stool
Pointed hat on pointed head
Often was the butt of ridicule
Cursed was he to be ill-bred
poem by Ray Lucero
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Related quotes
She Pointed At Me
When the world became harsh on her,
When they tried to manipulate her choice,
When they said they know better,
Among the great was i novice,
She pointed at me
While they searched for better,
Resting on the bed was I,
They claimed to be great and mighty,
Among all the noble man she made a choice,
She pointed at me
Shivering was i in fear,
Among champions, was an amatuer,
Among the rich i was poor,
Yet she made a choice,
She pointed at me
Can i be the one?
Myself i asked with anxiety,
Looking into my eyes she smiled,
Regardless of that and regarding this,
She pointed at me
poem by Gaylord Munemo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ridicule is a weak weapon when pointed at a strong mind; but common people are cowards and dread an empty laugh.
quote by Martin Farquhar Tupper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm Different
I was made different! ! ! ! ! And Im not a shame to be. I don't fit in categories, or man made groups, just to please the empty you. I was made to take over even If you don't understand but in thee in YoU WILL see whats in me.
I refuse to be define by any woman, or man, who want to point the finger, but learn that three is pointed back at the person who pointed the one at me. I was made different! ! ! ! !
poem by Clarence Williams
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Bloody Football Pitch
There I lie
Dead on the pitch
What did I do wrong
As I lay on my knees
Gun pointed to my head
On that football pitch
In Afghanistan
These big men
Turbans and beards
Rifles and Korans
Grabbed me from my home
Because I was talking to a man
Not my husband or relation
They struck me many times
Beat me
Covered me in the blue cloth
That covers me from head to toe
What a hot day it was
When the gun was pointed to my head
Why did so many people attend
This event
A public execution
Wild animals
It always attracts
I was no gladiator
I should not have been the centre of attention
I had no opportunity to fight for my freedom
They grabbed me
Beat me
Accused me
Convicted me
I committed no crime
I was a faithful wife
I died so that these fuckers
Could make a show
Of their power
Their law
Their Sharia
Their dominance
Their hatred
For me and my kind
I was just a woman
A mother and wife
Now I am gone
Because of the rifle
The coward riding in the jeep
Blew my head to bits
So there I lie
On the bloody football pitch
A fucking mess
poem by James Dylan
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Flying V
Flying V
If you're standing underneath it, you will see when you inspect it
That a flying V is made of flying geese
The pointed end flies in the lead
So when it flies, it's hard to read
You've got to tip your head to see
Flying V, Flying V
It's a V
In the window of a music store, or on stage at a rock show
Now a flying V is made of a guitar
The pointed end flies in the lead
So when it flies, it's hard to read
You have to be upside-down to see it
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gasoline Alley Bred
Woman, get your head out of curlers.
Time get your butt out of bed.
Get down your hats and baggage, my child.
Going back home,
going back to the homestead.
I'm a-gonna heat me some water,
and put a shine upon my shoes.
Telephone my ma,
Keep the room above Joe's
'Cause we're coming back,
coming back to the homestead.
Everything is packed,
getting back to the homestead.
This time, this time we'll stay.
I know that we could have made it;
we had ideas in our heads.
And I wish somehow
we could have saved it
but we're Gasoline Alley bred.
Yet the years haven't really been wasted,
and I know it in my head.
We did good for the life that we've tasted
'cause we're Gasoline Alley, Gasoline Alley bred
Woman, you can really believe it,
I did everything a man could do.
Breaking my back just to make us a dime.
That won't mean a damn
when no one wants to know you.
Woman, I know how you're feeling.
I've seen the hurt upon your face.
How many time do you think that I've cried?
Knowing every day that your heart was getting broken,
holdin' back your pride til you were nearly chokin'
Oh let's get away.
chorus
Gasoline Alley, Gasoline Alley Bred
Gasoline Alley, Gasoline Alley Bred
Gasoline Alley, Gasoline Alley Bred
Gasoline Alley, Gasoline Alley Bred
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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T. B. D.
In the moment I was losing my head
And I was
Reachin forward, I was already there
Readin too much and losin my head
This information caused a cut in the line
Now Im remembering God and readin
Too much its so nice
The print is smaller than the ants in the grass
Ill have to put it away now
In the morning there are things to be read
Words to be said and food to be fed but i
Wont be there. Ill be clutchin on a
Megaphone pointed at my head, would you be
There, would you kindly, read this word for
Word so loud and clear, I cant remember
It all, it needs to be clear, I tell you, if
The feeling drops out of your voice, would you
Kindly pick it up
This is how, Ill go out tonight
Dressed in blue, by the book tonight
This is how, Ill go out tonight
But I dont need a book.
Were talkin anchors, talkin ships, were
Talkin seas, were talkin everything you need
You should be workin now, not only askin
How and the whereabouts of where youll
Be. I dont suspect you will be thinking
When the brain is dead and the mind
Has taken over, this is a skill, this
Is not a game, where have you been,
Are you with us? can you hear us? got
The megaphone pointed at you
song performed by by Live
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I never threatened him and no Syrian intelligence officer has ever pointed a gun to his head.
quote by Rafik Hariri
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Recollection - First Poetic Impulse
my first poetic impulse
was in my pre school days
i must have been only four
years old lying sweet on the
kitchen floor one fine morning
sucking on my milk bottle
out on the tip of a pointed roof
a magpie had gathered itself
comfortably and started singing
its heart out to the sun just beginning
to warm up the new day
its song was edged like the roof
pointed here and there
in the rhythm and fractured tone
of a disconcerted soul
complaining all the world's
injustices to the heavens
like a chirpy woman crying mad about
poor treatments of her in laws
it sang for so long i was
provoked to ask the bird
what it was pining all about
about the black and white
of its days?
i asked and it sang
i asked and it sang
beak pointed to the sky
i asked and it sang
i asked and it sang
until it thought it was done
and flew away without a note
leaving a trail of silence and
melancholy on an empty
roof, the morning and -
an unrequited heart
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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So we take a lot of pride in that. It's really on us to turn this thing around. I think this last month we've done just that. We've pointed ourself in the direction that we want to be, and I think we're starting to head towards that. Right now we're in a nice rhythm.
quote by Kevin Garnett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Killing Of Georgie
(Rod Stewart)
In these days of changing ways
so called liberated days
a story comes to mind of a friend of mine
Georgie boy was gay I guess
nothin' more or nothin' less
the kindest guy I ever knew
His mother's tears fell in vain
the afternoon George tried to explain
that he needed love like all the rest
Pa said there must be a mistake
how can my son not be straight
after all I've said and done for him
Leavin' home on a Greyhound bus
cast out by the ones he loves
A victim of these gay days it seems
Georgie went to New York town
where he quickly settled down
and soon became the toast of the great white way
Accepted by Manhattan's elite
in all the places that were chic
No party was complete without George
Along the boulevards he'd cruise
and all the old queens blew a fuse
Everybody loved Georgie boy
The last time I saw George alive
was in the summer of seventy-five
he said he was in love I said I'm pleased
George attended the opening night
of another Broadway hype
but split before the final curtain fell
Deciding to take a short cut home
arm in arm they meant no wrong
A gentle breeze blew down Fifth Avenue
Out of a darkened side street came
a New Jersey gang with just one aim
to roll some innocent passer-by
There ensued a fearful fight
screams rang out in the night
Georgie's head hit a sidewalk cornerstone
A leather kid, a switchblade knife
He did not intend to take his life
He just pushed his luck a little too far that night
The sight of blood dispersed the gang
A crowd gathered, the police came
An ambulance screamed to a halt on Fifty-third and Third
Georgie's life ended there
but I ask who really cares
George once said to me and I quote
He said 'Never wait or hesitate
Get in kid, before it's too late
You may never get another chance
'Cos youth a mask but it don't last
live it long and live it fast'
Georgie was a friend of mine
Oh Georgie stay, don't go away
Georgie please stay you take our breath away
Oh Georgie stay, don't go away
Georgie please stay you take our breath away
Oh Georgie stay, don't go away
Georgie, Georgie please stay you take our breath away
Oh Georgie stay
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gentling a Wildcat
The yellowish-red of the caracal
blended like natural camouflage
into the yellow-brown winter grass
and when it moved its head,
the pointed ears with tufts
of black hair caught my eye.
Eighteen kilograms of hate
and pent up rage
hissed and growled at me
and white teeth
was biting death
out of the air.
Far too weak to move from
a hunter’s shot
and caked
with blood oozing
from its lungs
a paw clawed the air.
No birds and small mammals
or any lesser antelope
were to fall
to its claws and teeth again
and as life faded away
with the setting sun,
I saw hate glaring
out of yellow eyes.
Some faculty of mine
let me stretch out my hand
to stroke the soft head
between the pointed ears
and something changed
inside that deadly cat
and for the last moment,
it was at peace
and to this day
I can swear
it sounded
like a kitten being stroked
as life ebbed away.
[Reference: “Gentling a Wildcat” by Douglas Livingstone.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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5. My Bitten Finger
Much bolder than a lion
As crafty as a fox
That little furry hamster
I took home in a box
In the pet shop looking cuddly
Picked quickly didn’t linger
I should have seen the warning signs
When it bit my middle finger
I picked it for its cuteness
Dark brown with bright red eyes
I pointed out the one I’d picked
Imagine my surprise
It reared up where I pointed
Its whiskers started twitching
Then bit into my finger
For sure it needed stitching
The owner thought it funny
I tried to shake it free
This furry little ball of fluff
Had certainly picked me
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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Butt Town
The cops are well-groomed, with
Muscled physiques in butt town
Their tan uniforms are tailored in chic
In butt town
Any young black male who walks down the street
Is gonna get stopped by a car full of meat
But the girl with the hair
Flies by in her underwear-
Shes done nothing so far to deserve that car
When you live in butt town
You gotta get down
But in butt town Im learnin
In butt town Im earnin
In butt town Im turnin
Into my worst nightmare
Im tellin you, its a motley crew in butt town
Monday youre new, and friday youre through
In butt town
The producer is wily, and owns what he sells
The talent is eager to go straight to hell
Th tits are amazing, and everyones gazing
At some body part-
Thats the nature of art in butt town
All over butt town dreams have a show down
All over butt town values are thrown down
But in butt town Im learnin
In butt town Im earnin
In butt town Im turnin
Into my worst nightmare
In butt town baby
Im gonna be a star
Im gonna shake my butt far
Now here we go
Im gonna shake my butt
Shake my butt shake my butt
In butt town
song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I almost didn't name Butt-Head 'Butt-Head.' I came real close to calling him something else.
quote by Mike Judge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grobe
sometimes the ones you hold so close can make you cry
but it's a pain in the ass to let 'em go
with a battered wish you hoped that the monkey wore a tie
but it's no surprise to find he don't
put the pointed pencil in the pepper-po
and take a little sniff of the things below
bring it to a boil and simmer low
put the noodle on the griddle as it climbs the Grobe
watch the worker shield his heart from the world outside
didn't get a chance to let him know
Alsace is spinning fast and wine mixed with the tide
please don't let my brain explode
put the pointed pencil in the pepper-po
and take a little sniff of the things below
bring it to a boil and simmer low
put the noodle on the griddle as it climbs the Grobe
song performed by by Ween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grobe
sometimes the ones you hold so close can make you cry
but it's a pain in the ass to let 'em go
with a battered wish you hoped that the monkey wore a tie
but it's no surprise to find he don't
put the pointed pencil in the pepper-po
and take a little sniff of the things below
bring it to a boil and simmer low
put the noodle on the griddle as it climbs the Grobe
watch the worker shield his heart from the world outside
didn't get a chance to let him know
Alsace is spinning fast and wine mixed with the tide
please don't let my brain explode
put the pointed pencil in the pepper-po
and take a little sniff of the things below
bring it to a boil and simmer low
put the noodle on the griddle as it climbs the Grobe
song performed by by Ween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New Under The Son
Things move from hot to cold, just as they go from new to old,
Nothing’s new under the sun, especially salvation in God’s Son,
Nothing from Him changed at all, since that time of Adam’s fall,
God’s salvation stays the same, under Heaven in but one name.
At that time when all seemed lost, the Lord pointed to the cross,
A time when man would be restored, by the actions of our Lord,
Bruised would be the heel of Him, when He’d die, for all our sin,
Christ would rise from the dead; crushed would be Satan’s head.
New beliefs are born of men, who themselves stand condemned,
In need of the one salvation, offered by our Lord to every nation,
At man’s fall back in Paradise, God pointed to just one sacrifice,
That sacrifice was Christ His Son, to pay sin’s price for everyone.
Since the fall sin has reigned, as on earth the devil has remained,
But soon the sin besetting man, will be destroyed by God’s plan,
When Christ who reigns over all, shall free men from Adam’s fall,
As He returns in pure majesty, to redeem us from Satin’s iniquity.
And His plan, not new my friend, from its beginning, had no end,
With Satan destroyed, by Christ, we’ll enter into Eternal Paradise,
And His Majesty, we’ll behold; a sight for us that won’t grow old,
As all shall be new for everyone, reigning forever under The Son.
(Copyright ©06/2008)
Bathtime Shared.
Fenola watched
as Eileen bathed.
She took in
the hand
moving
the lathered sponge
over the contours
of the body,
moving between tits
like some
venture ship of old,
moving down
the belly,
beneath the soapy water
to the pleasure dome,
then out again
around the neck
and under chin,
then whole body
over once again.
She knew that body well,
each inch of flesh,
each orifice,
each smell,
each loving touch.
Even the thought
pleased her
overmuch.
Eileen looked over
where Fenola sat,
on stool,
in bathrobe,
with feet
on mat.
Come on in,
she said,
room enough for two,
you rub my back,
I'll rub yours
and other places too.
Fenola thought awhile,
took in her eyes
that gazed,
the smile
that spread,
the memory
of the afternoon
in bed,
the positions held
and played,
the sex ensuing.
Eileen pointed
to the soapy bath,
come in,
she said
with sexy laugh.
Fenola stood up
from the stool,
disrobed,
set it aside,
stepped in the bath
and sat down,
the water engulfing.
Somewhere
from the other room,
Ravel played
from hifi speakers,
Bolero
or some such piece,
the sound touching
the bathroom walls
with steam and scent.
The girls rubbed
and scrubbed
and laughed
in soapy water,
each one
like a siren
of the sea
or Neptune's daughter.
poem by Terry Collett
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