Handel Concerto Grosso
it was like a meeting
of cats
the objective of which
is to bell the
dog
who among you has the courage to do the belling of the dog?
yes the meeting among brothers and sisters
before mother died
before father followed her
before my grandfather died
it is about land, money
it is all about inheritance
who would spend to the funeral without reimbursement?
who would shoulder the bills of their hospitalization using private funds?
none would do that
my youngest brother said they died and they have their own money
let them spend for themselves then
what i want is, he said, which inheritance is mine
that is all i need, who cares?
so who will take the bell of this dog's greed?
handel play on play on they are killing each other.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
My Brothers And Sisters
they take pride
that we are loved
and that we have been
strong in this love
among us until my father
and mother died
and after they were buried
the attorney
showed the last will
and testament.
that was the end of
the good relationship
brothers and sisters no more
when confronted with
different slices of inheritance
after all money and wealth
or property
become thicker
than blood.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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How Do Prepare For The Coming Famine?
i like the way my father and mother
once lived.
they died with all serenity, and there
was this banquet we tendered, before
each passed away, as though
there is nothing to worry
they danced their days, their entrance
of course was silent, and their exits
a little serene, and then we talk as
though we understand how to live
just like them
there were droughts but father knew
how to store water in the house and
each of us had its own fill of our thirts
there were past hungers but mother
has her own skill of using the knife
in cutting each share each piece to
be nibbled by our mouths
and now, we are left here my brothers
and sisters, warned about an incoming famine
let us remember how it was with father and mother
and grandfather's father:
when life was so simple then
when there was hunger and yet none died of hunger
when there was drought and yet each of us has a glassful of water
when there was crisis, yet each had symbiosis
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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He Was My Brother
He was my brother
Five years older than I
He was my brother
Twenty-three Years old the day he died
Freedom writer
They cursed my brother to his face
Go home outsider
This town's gonna be your buryin' place
He was singin' on his knees
An angry mob trailed along
They shot my brother dead
Because he hated what was wrong
He was my brother
Tears can't bnng him back to me
He was my brother
And he died so his brothers could be free
He died so his brothers could be free
song performed by by Paul Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Was My Brother
He was my brother
Five years older than I
He was my brother
Twenty-three years old the day he died
Freedom writer
They cursed my brother to his face
Go home outsider
This town's gonna be your buryin' place
He was singin' on his knees
An angry mob trailed along
They shot my brother dead
Because he hated what was wrong
He was my brother
Tears can't bring him back to me
He was my brother
And he died so his brothers could be free
He died so his brothers could be free
song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Real Life Tale Of An Ungrateful Daughter
an ungrateful poor daughter blames her father
her mother sad died thirty-two long years ago
her mother did not choose to suffer illness die
was not mother’s fault choice to daughter leave
daughter in bitterness hate life torments father
her father worked two three jobs her education to pay
her poor father said study succeed attend university
she wanted to spend money work in Texas chicken
she married a shiftless dreamer saying play party angles
her father helped raise their two children in his home
she appreciates nothing saved not never to buy her home
she appreciates not years her family lived with her father
she appreciates not her eldest daughter her father raised
this daughter her husband accept no responsibility blame
daughter says if mother were alive life would be different
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Money
Money
Money
Money
Important
Useful
Necessary
Money
Money
Money
Wealthy
Middle
Poverty
Money
Money
Money
Save
Give
Spend
Money
Money
Borrow
Lend
Money
Money
Foe
Friend
Money
Money
Master
Slave
Money
Money
Satisfied
Crave
Money
Money
Laugh
Cry
MoneyMoney
Live
Die
Money
Money
Sick
Well
Money
Money
Heaven
Hell
poem by Howard Simon
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The Old Bloke With Heaps Of Money
The old bloke with heaps of money was buried yesterday
Yet for his funeral services and his burial the town charities will pay
For all the money that he had by him hidden away
At least a couple of million so those who knew him say.
He never fathered children he never had a wife
Earning money and hiding it was his great joy in life
He did not trust the banks at all so his millions he did hide
And of where his hidden fortune is the secret with him died.
He lived in a one bedrooom basement apartment he paid the cheapest rent
And he saved as much as he could save he never wasted a cent
In his very early seventies he died quite suddenly
The millionaire in money who died in poverty.
The old bloke with heaps of money was the meanest one in town
To be the town's greatest miser was his claim to renown
None ever sang his praises since praise he was not due
And where he hid his millions not one does have a clue.
poem by Francis Duggan
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An orphan death
When one died as very old,
Sons and daughters get relieved,
Their children gather for chit chats
And their kids for a play together>
The sisters and brother, if alive,
Are invalid somewhere, to attend.
A festival like funeral, it will turn.
03.10.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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And I think the more money you put in people's hands, the more they will spend And if they don't spend it, they invest it. And investing it is another way of creating jobs. It puts money into mutual funds or other kinds of banks that can go out and make loans, and we need to do that.
quote by Michael Bloomberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Day I Died
The air was close, but it would not rain
The day I died.
And smog enshrouded Gotham town
The day I died..
I should have stayed in Oceanside
The day I died.
Instead of a hellish subway ride
The day I died.
It started with a stabbing pain
The day I died.
Then waves of nausea deep inside
The day I died.
I fell to earth, I could not breathe
The day I died.
Co workers rushing to my side
The day I died.
Sirens scream on distant streets
The day I died.
bringing hosts of E.M.T.’s
The day I died..
Too late for me, this proud heart fails
The day I died.
I thought” This is the last of Earth”
The day I died.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Earn money
Gran father money
Father money
Mother money
Brother money
Sister money
Friends money
All moneyees are
Others only others...
Don't loves other moneys
On the way of life
Love your money...
Enjoy your money
Earn your won money...
Each every day you and others...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Aunt Jane
When Aunt Jane died we hunted round,
And money everywhere we found.
How much I do not care to say,
But no death duties will we pay,
And Aunt Jane will be well content
We bilked the bloody Government.
While others spent she loved to save,
But couldn't take it to her grave.
While others save we love to spend;
She hated us but in the end
Because she left no Testament
To us all her possessions went.
That is to say they did not find
A lawyer's Will of any kind.
Yet there was one in her own hand,
A Home for Ailing Cats she planned.
Well, you can understand my ire:
Promptly I put it in the fire.
In misery she chose to die,
Yet we will make her money fly.
And as we mourn for poor Aunt Jane
The thought alleviates our pain:
Perhaps her savings in the end
Gave her more joy than we who spend.
poem by Robert William Service
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My Sad Heart
That morning unlike others I
was awakened by the sound of
the telephone ringing
who on earth I thought
crawling out to answer it I'm
not the talking kind never
have been never will be today
I only had to listen my
brother Bob also not the talking kind said
Dad has died! What!
my short reply
Dad is dead I think he said ambulance
will soon be here I
tried to bring him back but
there was no response can
you come right away
So driving down the motorway
same motorway my father helped to build with
concrete all around and
my brothers concrete words inside
my head Dad has died things
he touched are here
but he has gone lives
he touched are still here
but he has gone
the man with more feeling than anyone I
ever knew is now not feeling anything
just numb to all family friends
brothers sisters my mother gone
to him from this moment but
he is still with us everywhere
even on this motorway with
concrete all around and
in my sad heart
poem by Ron Knight
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I know it's going to be the private sector that leads this country out of the current economic times we're in. You can spend your money better than the government can spend your money.
quote by George W. Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Custers Blues
Well you look just like general custer
On the day of his last stand
Heading up into the black hills
Glorious and grand
I saw it by your side
A map in your hand
Heading up into the rain
Singing this land is your land
Now Ive seen your dust a-rising
And Ive seen your numbers swell
Ive seen you crossing the badlands
And Ive heard your captains yell
Ive watched you when youre sleeping
Ive seen you filling up your can
Thinking as you work
That this land is your land
But now youre bursting into my country
Youre messing up my fields
Youre playing games with my holy places
Youre tearing the earth with your wheels
Right now your star is ascending
And your head is bursting with pride
But I wonder if custer was still singing
this land is my land when he died
Was he still singing this is my land when he died
Was he singing that its my land when he died
Was he singing when he died
Was he singing when he died
Was he singing its my land when he died
When he died...
Was he singing when he died
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Money world love
My dear father...
Hoe r you...?
I am hear is not fine...!
So...
I want money
send me for money
Don't tell about mother...
ok...
My kisses with you...!
Your dear son...(ramesh)
This is letter for my father
My brother was wrote
At student time...
My father send the money
For my brother
That time
My father understand
Love is making money...
My brother thinking
Money is my lovely father...
How is money world love...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Died
Joy Mukherjee
Died.
Dharam Dev
Pishorimal
Anand,
Also known as
Dev Anand -
Died.
Bhupen Hazarika
Died.
Jagmohan (Jagjit)
Singh Ji died.
Mansoor Ali Khan
Pataudi died.
They all
Did their
Best -
And died.
I'm also
Doing my
Best -
So that
You don't
Complain:
She didn't do
Anything ;)
She just
Existed -
And died!
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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The President sends us a billion-page paper that shows how he would spend the money if he were spending the money. He doesn't have the authority to spend the money. He doesn't spend $1 of the money.
quote by Michael Enzi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Day Old Shep Died
it's been thirty years,
that he's been gone,
the day he died, brought tears,
all day, i played his song.
for nine long years,
i loved him and he loved me,
the day he died, broght tears,
toward the end, he could barely see.
when he died, i was seventeen years,
my child hood died that day,
the day he died, brought tears,
during his youth, we were always at play.
him and i was, so close in years,
when i got shep he was five and i eight,
the day he died brought tears,
he always ate his meals, off our plate.
he died at eighty-four in human years,
he lived to a ripe old age,
the day he died brought tears,
for this poem, he set the stage.
i can't believe, its been so many years,
i think about him, all the time,
the day he died, brought tears,
but old shep, was all mind.
of all these many years,
no dog has taken the place of old shep,
the day he died, brought tears,
i'll always remember, that dog with pep
in memory of old shep 1946-1960 written june 21,1990
Deportee
The crops are all in, the peaches are rotting
The oranges are piled in their creosote dumps
Theyre flying you back to the mexico border
To pay all your money to wade back again
My fathers own father, he waded that river
They took all the money he made in his life
My brothers and sisters they work in the fruit trees
They rode the truck till they took down and died
Good-bye to my juan, good-bye rosalita
Adios mes amigos, jesus e maria
You wont have a name when you ride the big airplane
And all they will call you will be deportee
Some of us are illegal, and some are not wanted
Our work contracts out and we have to move on
Six hundred miles to the mexican border
They chase us like rustlers, like outlaws, like thieves.
We died in your hills. we died on your deserts.
Weve died in your mountains, and died on your plains.
Weve died neath your trees, and weve died in your bushes.
Both sides of the river, weve died just the same.
Good-bye to my juan, good-bye rosalita
Adios mes amigos, jesus e maria
You wont have a name when you ride the big airplane
And all they will call you will be deportee
The skyplane caught fire over los gatos canyon
A fireball of lightning that shook all our hills
Who were all these dear friends all scattered like dry leaves?
The radio says they were just deportees.
Is this the best way we can grow our big orchards?
And is this the best way we can grow our good fruit?
To fall like dry leaves and rot on the top soil,
And be known by no name except deportee.
Good-bye to my juan, good-bye rosalita
Adios mes amigos, jesus e maria
You wont have a name when you ride the big airplane
And all they will call you will be deportee
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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