Shiftless
The people who were better than us were comfortable.
They lived in painted houses with flush toilets.
Drove cars whose year and make were recognizable.
The ones worse off were sorry and didn't work.
Their strange cars sat on blocks in dusty yards.
The years go by and everything and everyone gets replaced.
But this much is still true-I never liked work.
My goal was always to be shiftless.
I saw the merit in that.
I liked the idea of sitting in a chair in front of your house
for hours,
doing nothing but wearing a hat and drinking cola.
What's wrong with that?
Drawing on a cigarette from time to time.
Spitting.
Making things out of wood with a knife.
Where's the harm there?
Now and then calling the dogs to hunt rabbits.
Try it sometime. Once in a while hailing a fat, blond kid like me and saying,
'Don't I know you?'
Not, 'What are you going to be when you grow up?'
poem by Raymond Clevie Carver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Cars Are Cars
Words & music by paul simon 1983
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Similarly made. similarly sold
In a motorcade. abandoned when theyre old
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Engine in the front. jack in the back
Wheels take the brunt. pinion and a rack
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
But people are strangers
They change with the curve
From time zone to time zone
As we can observe
They shut down their borders
And think theyre immune
They stand on their differences
And shoot at the moon
But cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Drive em on the left. drive em on the right
Susceptible to theft in the middle of the night
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
I once had a car
That was more like a home
I lived in it, loved in it
Polished its chrome
If some of my homes
Had been more like my car
I probably wouldnt have
Travelled this far
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
Cars are cars all over the world
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So Here I Am
Seven on a monday morning.
And it's a sunny day.
It's just too hot to be working
But you've got to pay your way.
(chorus)
So here I am sitting at the bus stop
Wishing I was somewhere else
Where I didn't have to work my rocks off
Wishing I could please myself.
Ten hours a day i'm grafting
Under the bosses eye,
Earn just enough to keep going,
Making cars i'll never buy.
(chorus)
So here I am sitting ...........
Five days a week i'm giving,
My time is clocking on.
Just two days left for living,
Wondering where my life has gone.
(chorus)
So here I am sitting ...........
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Pretoria West
Years ago my car
was in for repairs
and I had to work overtime
and the work’s small bus,
took me home one night.
We first had to take other people home
and in Pretoria West
I saw a place,
where very poor white people
lived together like in a commune
in houses
with asbestos thin walls.
.
I could hear a drunk
and his wife argue
and somewhere a baby
cried disconsolately
and thin dogs,
sneaked around the building
afraid of being kicked.
There where teenage girls
chatting with boyfriends
at the windows of cars
and a mother screamed angrily
at one of them,
to immediately come home.
Still there were other people
who were driven there
by life and fate
and I saw people,
sharing the little that they had
with each other.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cars
Cars
Almost everybody has one, but what little thought we give them.
We drive our cars to work and school but even then we don't give our cars much thought.
You go from one exteme to the other, one guy might pay about $20,000 for a car, while another may pay $150,000 for a car.
Cars are an earthly object, yet we all see people that go overboard with their cars.
poem by Sean Bitikofer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Making Cars
They've bailed the automakers out...
But there's no one about,
To drive.
They've listened to them rant and shout...
But there's no one about,
To drive.
Or
To keep them alive.
And why...
Why now is gas so cheap?
When people can't afford it.
And why...
Why are they losing sleep?
When they're making cars that people can't keep!
They've bailed the automakers out...
But there's no one about,
To drive.
They've listened to them rant and shout...
But there's no one about,
To drive.
Or
To keep them alive.
And why...
Why now is gas so cheap?
When people can't afford it.
And why...
Why are they losing sleep?
When they're making cars that people can't keep!
Oh no!
They're making cars that people can't keep!
Oh?
They're making cars that people can't keep!
Oh no!
They're making cars for people....
But why...
Why now is gas so cheap?
When people can't afford it.
And why...
Why are they losing sleep?
When they're making cars that people can't keep!
Oh no!
They're making cars that people can't keep!
Oh?
They're making cars that people can't keep!
Oh no!
They're making cars that people can't keep!
Oh?
But they will not shake away their greed needs.
Oh no!
And other fantasies they believe!
'Can you put that back on the assembly line?
I'd like to hear that one more time! '
They've bailed the automakers out...
But there's no one about,
To drive.
They've listened to them rant and shout...
But there's no one about,
To drive.
Or
To keep them alive.
They're making cars,
That people can't keep!
Oh?
They're making cars,
That people can't keep!
Oh no!
They're making cars,
That people can't keep!
Oh?
But they will not shake away their greed needs.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dog Years
Words by neil peart, music by geddy lee and alex lifeson
In a dogs life
A year is really more like seven
And all too soon a canine
Will be chasing cars in doggie heaven
It seems to me
As we make our own few circles round the sun
We get it backwards
And our seven years go by like one
Dog years --- its the season of the itch
Dog years --- with every scratch it reappears
In the dog days
People look to sirius
Dogs cry for the moon
But these connections are mysterious
It seems to me
While its true that every dog will have his day
When all the bones are buried
There is barely time to go outside and play
Dog years --- its the season of the itch
Dog years --- with every scratch it reappears
Dog years --- for every sad son of a bitch
Dog years --- with his tail between his ears
Id rather be a tortoise from galapagos
Or a span of geological time
Than be living in these dog years
In a dogs brain
A constant buzz of low-level static
One sniff at the hydrant
And the answer is automatic
It seems to me
As well make our own few circles round the block
Weve lost our senses
For the higher-level static of talk
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If You Need Advice
What is a goal?
How can we have something to which we do not even know the true definition?
Aspiration cannot be much without inspiraton
And inspiration cannot be done without another's persperation
What do we want to do and for whom do we want to do it?
Ourselves? Gays? Blacks? Women? Men? Children? God?
We want to be an inspiration
We want someone or something to look up to us and say:
'I want to be like you and make a true difference.'
It is not envy, nor jealousy, nor pity on another hand
It's work. Everything is work
There is fun work, dull work, but most importantly, hard work
Hard work is the house of our goal
Fun work is the decor
Dull work is the furniture
All is necesary to achieve complete happiness
Without decor, all we have is a house, not a home
Without furniture, we have nothing with which to have fun
Goals require more than just acquiring a plan
poem by Rebecca Roberts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fugue
You see them vanish in their speeding cars,
The many people hastening through the world,
And wonder what they would have done before
This time of time speed distance, random streams
Of molecules hastened by what rising heat?
Was there never a world where people just sat still?
Yet they might be all of them contemplatives
Of a timeless now, drivers and passengers
In the moving cars all facing to the front
Which is the future, which is destiny,
Which is desire and desire's end -
What are they doing but just sitting still?
And still at speed they fly away, as still
As the road paid out beneath them as it flows
Moment by moment into the mirrored past;
They spread in their wake the parading fields of food,
The windowless works where who is making what,
The grey towns where the wishes and the fears are done.
poem by Howard Nemerov
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cars
Cars
Here in my car
I feel safest of all
I can lock all my doors
Its the only way to live
In cars
Here in my car
I can only receive
I can listen to you
It keeps me stable for ( nights )
- this is the only wrong word you put days
In cars
Here in my car
Where the image breaks down
Will you visit me please?
If I open my door
In cars
Here in my car
I know Ive started to think
About leaving tonight
Although nothing seems right
In cars
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Under The Hues
From my chair by the window,
there are many things I can see.
Through the gap between the houses
on the other side of the street,
a glimpse of a harbour
with small boats tugging at their moorings
trying desperately to be free
while silhouetted under the moonlight.
Beyond the harbour lies the city
with its urban sprawl.
Thousands of stories about lives
whom under its umbrella live.
From their peaceful days
and the ones carpeted under continuing squalls.
The new and the old
share the same spotlight.
The yellow streetlights
make poor imitation suns.
Their protracted idea of no shadows
only dims the light on some
in the early morning hours.
The streets are quiet and bare
and for a few hours,
cars lie asleep outside their homes.
The story goes on and on
under the hues of each day
and lives change.
Some for the better and some for the worse.
Some call it a rat race
while others call it their home.
Regardless what we call it,
within it, life goes on.
1 March 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Time, Baby... Just Time!
jail time, heroin time,
back alley shuffle time,
standing in the soup line time....
sleeping in old cars time,
day work, selling blood time,
lost your job, no work time,
lost your house, nowhere time....
get your school in prison time,
radical free thought time,
fighting against the man time...
bum a smoke, a cup of coffee time.
woman done gone, aint coming back time.
food stamps and unemployment time...
kick off your damn chains time.
forgive, and forgiven time...
stand up and fight time,
hands joining hands time...
time, baby... just time!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There are people
There are people
that claims the street as their own
and stand
at parking places on the sidewalk
and do no work
but to look after cars.
If you park there
and ignore them
and do not
want to use their services
you immediately
become a racist in their eyes
and they will make a scene,
threaten to damage your car,
or make sure that it’s stolen
or so they tell you
since they believe
that you owe them something.
Some spray soapy water
without invitation
on the front window
of your car
when you stop
at a traffic light
and wipe it off
demanding a price.
I wonder why the education
is still lacking
since they have already
got their liberation
and just as odd
these people are ignored
by their compatriots in government
as if they do not exist,
while the country
falls slowly
but surely to pieces.
There are people
that claims the possessions
of others as their own
and at night
prowl around in the streets
shooting, stabbing
and robbing
and estranging people
from their cars.
l’Envoi
Still I wonder where
the problem lies
and would really like
both of my cars back
and I do not know
about white people
that sneak around
in black neighbourhoods at night,
hijack cars,
brake windows
and demand possessions
with loaded guns.
All that they do,
is try to make a living
or hurry away in their leaving.
{Reference: “First liberation, then education.” Political slogan of the ruling party.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pretoria
I look at a city,
a city once modern, new
and progressive, the cultural centre
of a nation
but now poverty
and mismanagement
is taking its toll.
Where ten years back
people could live in its apartments
now is a ghetto,
with prostitutes on the street,
primitive men urinating against buildings
and teenagers walking with ghetto-blasters
playing music at full volume.
Where at traffic lights
windows are smashed with bricks
and valuables are stolen,
parked cars are taken,
where cars are hijacked
with the barrel of a gun
and cars are even stripped
at the police grounds.
A capital city in a country
that has thrown its borders
wide open to the rest of Africa
and every criminal
has headed there
and gangsters live in paradise
but in the suburbs
people still are making a living
in fortresses guarded by dogs
and security devices,
with panic buttons
for the nearest rent a cop
and people still pray
and go to work and play
as if crime is the norm
and the inadequacy
of the new government
doesn’t really matter.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wonderful
{chorus]
[R KELLY (ASHANTI)]
If it wasn't for the money, cars and movies stars and jewels
And all these things I got
I wonder, hey
Would you still want me (Want you)
Would you still be calling me (Still calling you)
You be loving me? (I'll be loving you)
[JA RULE]
Wanna keep you flawed with no dough
Pimpin ain't easy
Trust me I know
When gangstas and hos
Go go go go go go together
Like chinchilla and bad weather
I'm good but been better
All my bros, chedda and glamorous things
Copped a few cars
A crib with a east and west wing
Cuz this is how I'm livin and y'all women know the secrets
Of how to get it and keep it
How to prey on my weakness
Cuz I want the p-u-s-s-y
Got a lotta niggaz wonderin it ain't just i
Gotta keep ya cash comin and that's on my life
If it wasn't for the money and the things I got
Shit, she probably wouldn't like me
But I keep her and irv and jeffrey quite icy
Sip seraphin
Who doesn't like me
And the murderous I-n-c
[Chorus]
If it wasn't for the money, cars and movies stars and jewels
And all these things I got
I wonder, hey
Would you still want me (Want you)
Would you still be calling me (Still calling you)
You be loving me? (I'll be loving you)
[ASHANTI RAP]
Now, how many nights does it take to make you,
To be my love, through all these years?
Done had yo kids.
How could you wonder, hey-yeah?
See, I was wit you through the rain and thunder,
And all that cryin and that pain who-cha-grunda.
Now, tell me baby, do you still wonder, hey-yeah?
Cause Im that chick from I-N-C;
Some try to front, but then, chicks aint me.
Straight to the top, yall all gon see; all my ladies say (uhhh-uhhh-uhhh-uhhh).
Its no wonder why we still here (R. Kelly: Gaw.),
And all this hatin and we still here (R. Kelly: Gaw.).
You didnt think that we would be here (R. Kelly: OH!),
Aint (R. Kelly: OH!) no mistakin, this is (R. Kelly: OH!) our year
(R. Kelly: OH!).
[Chorus]
If it wasn't for the money, cars and movies stars and jewels
And all these things I got
I wonder, hey
Would you still want me (Want you)
Would you still be calling me (Still calling you)
You be loving me? (I'll be loving you)
[JA RULE]
I wonder why love is about money
And why wou wanna take it all from me
Honey
My life is dark but its lovely
Crimes cars cribs aint that right kelly?
(Oh oh oh oh oh oh)
Yall bitches don't know
Money aint a thang
MamI need a lil change
Girl im pitchin quarters
Closest to the arches but live in a fortress
New benzes new porsches
New cases new lawyers
im becoming the infamous notorious rule
Niggaz couldn't walk a mile in my shoes
Niggaz don't possess the heart that I do
And it's a wonder that im still here
Thought I was gone but im still here
And all you bitches that left me here
Its kinda funny how you right back there
[chorus]
If it wasn't for the money, cars and movies stars and jewels
And all these things I got
I wonder, hey
Would you still want me (Want you)
Would you still be calling me (Still calling you)
You be loving me? (I'll be loving you)
[R KELLY]
Oh oh oh oh ohhhhh
Oh oh oh oh
[repeat till fade]
song performed by by Ashanti
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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a village in Iberia
A Village in Iberia
Drove to the village where I was born, hadn’t been there
for forty years, the lane was muddy and houses deserted;
this village had been abandoned long time ago; what was
I thinking of coming here? A tree had grown right through
our cottage, roof smashed now walls were tumbling down.
Puny human dwellings, here today and gone in less than
Ten decades, the tree seemed to say. What a nostalgic fool
I’m, this idea of returning, rebuild the old house and live
here in happy retirement.
This was no longer a village but a graveyard, houses were
tombstones of a past that had nothing to offer but poverty,
glassless window resembled crosses of a defunct faith.
I sat on a stone smoking a cigarette the aroma of wafted
through the drab silence, from behind a broken wall a dog
came, young, and it looked eerily like Stella the dog I loved
all those years ago, don’t tell me she has waited for five
dog generations, to return from the wasteland of eternity
just for me?
“I’ll call you Stella”, I said and stroked the dog’s head.
She knitted her brows together as to say, “What else? ”
I opened the right hand car door, Stella jumped in like she
had done this a thousand time before, drove off and didn’t
look back once, the only memory I need of my childhood,
was alive and snoozing in the seat beside me.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It's Alright
They want your mind and your body
But they don't understand
And don't care much about it
Gotta work for your country
Society's built on concrete and money
If this room was to vanish
And the toys of man turned to civilized dust
There'd still be you and me, honey
With our history gone
But the spirit lives on
Build those highways, build those cars
On a planet full of scrap metal
There'd better be life on mars
Chorus:
It's alright, it's alright
If you don't think about it
It's alright
If you don't look at it, it's alright
How time slips away
Live by the good book
That's what the wise men say
But where does it leave us
Were they right or were they wrong
Gotta have hope, gotta carry on
It's alright, it's alright
It's alright, it's alright
They want your soul and your spirit
Make them understand
These things they never can have
Gotta work for your family
A community built on trust, not money
If this town was to vanish
And the office blocks were just turned into ashes
They'd be you and me, honey
With the will to survive
And the spirit lives on
Build those factories
Plants and cars
On a planet so desecrated
There'd better be life on mars
Chorus
How time slips away
Live by the good book
That's what the wise men say
But where does it leave us
Were they right or were they wrong
Gotta have hope
Gotta carry on
It's alright, it's alright
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Village
A Village in Iberia
Drove to the village where I was born, hadn’t been there
for forty years, the lane was muddy and houses deserted;
this village had been abandoned long time ago; what was
I thinking of coming here? A tree had grown right through
our cottage, roof smashed now walls were tumbling down.
Puny human dwellings, here today and gone in less than
Ten decades, the tree seemed to say. What a nostalgic fool
I’m, this idea of returning, rebuild the old house and live
here in happy retirement.
This was no longer a village but a graveyard, houses were
tombstones of a past that had nothing to offer but poverty,
glassless window resembled crosses of a defunct faith.
I sat on a stone smoking a cigarette the aroma of wafted
through the drab silence, from behind a broken wall a dog
came, young, and it looked eerily like Stella the dog I loved
all those years ago, don’t tell me she has waited for five
dog generations, to return from the wasteland of eternity
just for me?
“I’ll call you Stella”, I said and stroked the dog’s head.
She knitted her brows together as to say, “What else? ”
I opened the right hand car door, Stella jumped in like she
had done this a thousand time before, drove off and didn’t
look back once, the only memory I needed of my childhood,
was alive and snoozing in the seat beside me.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nineteen-Sixty-Five
What a year,
seems lke yesterday,
March 29,1965
is a day not
to forget.
My Wife Diana
and I had went
out to eat that night
awaken to a fire.
it was across
the alley from us
flames 100 feet high
fire trucks, oh so many.
We went back to
bed, but not for
long I'm afraid.
She went into labor
oh so much yelling
she did that night.
Diana's parents
lived downstairs,
they rushed us
to the hospital,
as we drove up
i looked up and
said this is
wrong hospital.
So he drove few
more blocks
we made it in time.
Placed her in wheel chair,
and into E.R.
I waited and paced
the floor, so many
smokes i had.
sometime later
in early AM doctor came and
told me it was
a girl.
Her dad said we
should call her
Christine, since
we could thank
Christ for getting
there safe.
So her name became
Christine Lynn Foulk
and I was so proud
to be a father
for first time.
Today March 29,2007,
Christine you are 42,
but will always
remember that
special day
so many years ago,
Happy birthday daughter.
School Or Summer
School, work work work
Thats what you do all day
Sitting in a chair looking at the teacher
Who just wrote down more work for you.
All year you wish and count down till the end of school
For summer to come and save you
from drowning in the work teachers have to give you.
Summer comes and saves you just in time like every year
And as you go on and on just playing outside
watch tv and playing games
you start to think and think.
As every dayd gose by you do the same thing over and over.
In the middle of summer you start to count down
but this time to the end of summer and begining of school.
Is summer really better then school?
Or is school really better then summer?
poem by Dawn Gothic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Welcome
Tommy:
Tommy:
Come to my house
Come to my house
Be one of the comfortable people.
Be one of the comfortable people.
Come to this house
Come to this house
Were drinking all night
Were drinking all night
Never sleeping.
Never sleeping.
Milkman come in!
Milkman come in!
And you baker,
And you baker,
Little old lady welcome
Little old lady welcome
And you shoe maker
And you shoe maker
Come to this house!
Come to this house!
Into this house.
Into this house.
Come to this house
Come to this house
Be one of us.
Be one of us.
Make this your house
Make this your house
Be one of us.
Be one of us.
You can help
You can help
To collect some more in
To collect some more in
Young and old people
Young and old people
Lets get them all in!
Lets get them all in!
Come to this house!
Come to this house!
Into this house.
Into this house.
Ask along that man whos wearing a carnation.
Ask along that man whos wearing a carnation.
Bring every single person
Bring every single person
From victoria station,
From victoria station,
Go into that hospital
Go into that hospital
And bring nurses and patients,
And bring nurses and patients,
Everybody go home and fetch their relations!
Everybody go home and fetch their relations!
Come to this house
Come to this house
Be one of the comfortable people.
Be one of the comfortable people.
Lovely bright home
Lovely bright home
Drinking all night never sleeping.
Drinking all night never sleeping.
We need more room
We need more room
Build an extension
Build an extension
A colourful palace
A colourful palace
Spare no expense now
Spare no expense now
Come to this house
Come to this house
Be one of us
Be one of us
Come into this house
Come into this house
Be one of us
Be one of us
Come to this house
Come to this house
Into this house
Into this house
Welcome
Welcome
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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