Expression
Back in the sixties we used to indulge
in letting our toddler play in the lounge.
When he did drawings over our walls
we gave him free reign, hey man it's all cool.
As he went on to pursue this art form
we both encouraged, we thought it top draw
After all, in due course it would all have to end
so we thought, as he went on enjoying this bent.
But when he was ten, he persisted to scrawl
over our armchairs, the tables and floors,
and on reaching sixteen, yes, all to our cost
he still persevered in his drawings - a lot.
Now he has grown, he lives on his own
and expresses himself in his own little home.
He paints and he writes on the ceilings and walls
he'll let the phone ring, he's not in to take calls.
He doesn't seem bothered of what people think
although when they visit they tut and they blink.
He's expressing himself and it makes him feel good,
he's not really bad, he's just misunderstood.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Its Ok
Its ok
Love is only meant for some
Im the rock
The shoulder you can cry on
I keep the walls from falling down
I keep the walls from falling down
I keep the walls from falling down
Ill play it straight
While you laugh and drink and party all night long
Ill designate myself
To be the driver who takes you home
I keep the walls from falling down
I keep the walls from falling down
You can be pretty and tragic
Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
You can be beautiful and fabulous
Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
I cant reach the pain you feel
But Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
If you can hold on
Lose your fear
Ill try to keep the walls from falling down
Falling down
Falling down
Where is your saint
To let you know youre not alone
To bring you peace
Help me be your friend your confidante
And keep the walls from falling down
Keep the walls from falling down
Keep the walls from falling down
song performed by by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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With A Seeking To Be Encouraged
I've grown accustomed to view walls,
As a creative opportunity.
I see space with a wanting to use it.
As if to be inspired by what it isn't.
Others have come to sit behind walls,
Feeling blocked and locked in.
With a seeking to be encouraged,
To get up off their asses!
And I have always found time to busy mine,
With a seeking to be encouraged...
Not to sit too long in a comfort to feel,
Temporarily safe.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Walls
Walls of stone and walls of brick,
Some walls thin and some walls thick,
Walls so high and walls so low,
Walls to hide and walls to show.
Walls quite short and walls quite tall,
Some walls, last well, some walls fall,
Walls for comfort, walls of hate,
Walls for security, walls ornate.
Some as a barricade, some to support,
Walls of wood and walls of iron wrought,
Walls as a barrier, walls to enclose,
Some are to sit on, some to lean and doze.
Walls we build ourselves, these aren't good,
Walls for privacy, walls that have stood,
So many years through weather foul or fine,
Walls, that are yours, walls that are mine.
Brick by brick they are built to last,
Whether built now or in the past,
They shelter us from so many things,
And shield us from whatever this life brings.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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82
there are walls there are ceilings
there are wall here and there are ears who listen so well
and eyes who see too clearly
you,
there are ceilings too
there are limits to what you can do
there are floors
between
you
now the cup has overflowed the dams break out
a flood
will cover you, the floor meets the ceiling and you are sandwiched
like a witch,
see..how you crumple?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I have made it a rule for a long time, not to part with the copyright of my drawings, for I have been so copied, my drawings reproduced and sold for advertisements and done in ways I hate.
quote by Kate Greenaway
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Three Flights Up
On the first floor On the first floor
On the first floor there's a young girl reeling
Her body's numb and without feeling
As illusions dance on the midnight ceiling
Now she's falling, now she's kneeling
It's almost like she's bowed in prayer
A savior she's about to bear
She screams for help, but no one's there
On the first floor
On the first floor people walk the halls
But none can hear her desperate calls
There is no sound beyond the walls
So to the telephone she crawls
She telephones her only friend
The one on whom she can depend
But the phone rings on without an end
Then rings no moreOn the first floor
There's a party on the second floor
And through the picture window you can see them all
They're laughing and they're dancing
Admiring the Renoir that's hanging on the wall
But in the master bedroom where the coats are piled high
A silent, saddened lady thinks of what it's like to die
And as she dwells on all the years she still has left to face
She wonders how she'll ever find someone to take his place
Then suddenly she's jarred by the ringing of the phone
Oh, why do you ring now, just when I want to be alone?
So she walks into the bathroom and drinks some water from a cup
But the telephone stops ringing just before she picks it up
My family was very poor
So I worked hard to be secure
I married one I had to wed
And not the one I loved instead
When I was young my blood ran wild
But we stayed married for the child
Now three flights up, I'm all alone
My wife is dead, my child is grown
My daughter leads a wayward life
She's been a failure as a wife
And though she lives just one floor down
She never calls or comes around
Step off the platform and onto the train
Look out your window and into the rain
Watch all the buildings that pass as you ride
And count all the stories that go on inside
And then ask yourself if it must be this way
Should walls and doors and plaster ceilings
Separate us from each others' feelings?
song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fire in the Night
by a fire in the night
meat on the spit
listen to the crackle & darkness breathing...
whispering ghosts
nothing needs to be said
stillness is the bridge
close yr eyes & stare
at drawings on the cave walls
old dog startled, stands up
as if the fur on his back
can feel the presence!
only the smell of black coffee...
& the prayers of the moon!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Secret
Rushing up on you like a freak in the fast lane
I'm on a mission to whip you into a hurricane
And when I overtake I'm gonna be in pole position
yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah
Are you ready for the change
If I let you stay, If I let you play
Will you lose or win
You can't kiss and tell
Will you pass it or fail
Let the games begin
Here's my secret
I'm a girl who likes her fun
And if you can keep it
Then you just might be the one
To come and party baby
But don't be misunderstood
I'll be cool, would you be cool
I wonder if I take you home
Major should explore the physical
But don't confuse emotions with the pleasure principle
Just let me take a ride
And educate the corners of your mind
Yeah yeah yeah
RAP:
Buckle up baby feel my speed
Take it from zero to sixty
Driving so hot like a criminal
The chase is irresistable
Gonna twist you round and manipulate
Whatch you hyperventilate
That's just the way I get my kicks
So take it in baby, deal with it
Here's my secret
I'm a girl who likes her fun
And if you can keep it
Then you just might be the one
To come and party baby
But don't be misunderstood
I'll be cool, would you be cool
I wonder if I take you home
Here's my secret
You can keep it (keep it)
Party baby (don't be misunderstood)
I'll be cool, would you be cool
I wonder if I take you home
RAP:
Buckle up baby feel my speed
Better not blink or you'll miss me
Driving you hard subliminal
Cause you're so irresistable
Let me pump you up with adrenaline
Get your headspace into a spin
Cause that's the way I get my kicks
So take it in baby, deal with it
Here's my secret
I'm a girl who likes her fun
And if you can keep it
Then you just might be the one
To come and party baby
But don't be misunderstood
I'll be cool, would you be cool
I wonder if I take you home
I wonder if I take you home
song performed by by Kylie Minogue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I don't work from drawings. I don't make sketches and drawings and color sketches into a final painting.
quote by Jackson Pollock
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Absolutely Bills Mood
I was born in a lighthouse, my mother was the sea
I crawled to school each morning, when it occured to me
That lifes just a mood ring were not allowed to see
And this is what it said to me
My room is comfortably small
With rubber lining the walls
And theres someone always calling my name
He calls when Im alone
And he calls when Im not home
And he calls when Im stuck out in the rain
Im insane
Im insane
Im insane
Im insane
Now listen all you swingers, dont you try to tag along
I know monkey see, but monkeys dead, for you it would be wrong
Put a dime in my jukebox, youll only hear this song
And it wont be fun for long
Because my room is comfortably small
With rubber lining the walls
And theres someone always calling my name
He calls when Im alone
And he calls when Im not home
And he calls when Im stuck out in the rain
Im insane
Im insane
Im insane
Im insane
Thank you
Thank you
My room is comfortably small
With rubber lining the walls
And theres someone always calling my name
He calls when Im alone
And he calls when Im not home
And he calls when Im stuck out in the rain
Im insane
Im insane
Im insane
Im insane
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Social Conditioning From Earliest Age
we care condition
our children
from earliest age
with sense perception
a baby behind tiny bars
or inescapable
walls of a bassinet cot
walls of a prison cot?
taken out put
back at our own
convenience
or lifted up with love?
time passes feeds
nappy changes
baths powders held
in loves welcome or?
a toddler behind bars
or walls of a play pen
a toddler given free range
conditioning individuality to conform
to condition to rules
social norms of society
control imposed for
parental convenience as
social acceptance
is imposed upon
unique individuality
constrained modeled into conformity
or control imposed
only for safety assurances
huge freedom given
to nurture grow confidence excel
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
See also ‘Social Conditioning Before Arrival Birth’.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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My home is in you
A home
Doesn’t have four corner post
To call it a home and to stand on its own
As long as your love is strong
I don’t need that four corner post
A home
Doesn’t have four big walls
To call it a home and to protect me when nature calls
As long as your arms is around me
I don’t need those four big walls
A home
Doesn’t have to be in an isolated place
To call it a home and to find a solemn inner peace
As long as I have you near me
I don’t have to be in an isolated place
A home
Doesn’t have to constructed materially
To find all the comfort and call it a home
As long as I have you and your love
I don’t need to built a home for my home is in you
12.18.05
poem by Sweet Seven
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On The Shore
One child on the shore
With a stick on his hands
Writes on the sands
Some drawings
Playful
A wave comes and slides
On the shore
The drawings are gone
And a new slate is given
By the water that runs
That advances to him
And later surrenders to itself
Another young man
Draws a heart on the sand
Swearing a love eternal
All encompassing
A wave slides forth
And comes back pulling towards itself
A new slate is made again
The old man comes later
Writing his life story with a cane
The same wave comes again
Slides forth and pulls itself
An empty slate
Sand so smooth and blank and plain
Gleaming anew
To the blue skies
Everything looks playful,
Indeed. The sameness and the
Constant repetition. The cycle.
The monotony of life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Coward
I'm in this form having
walls and ceilings
well constructed.I'm
a thinking form.I'm
the keeper of
my own idea.I'm
in this cave of
my conscience.I'm
in the solitude of
self, where only
forming forms of dreams
coexist with me.I'm
in the shadow of
my form.I'm the keeper
of everything I am and
everything I have, but
I cannot fight against
this coward that lives
inside of me, when I
need to open this door
of self in order to throw out
everything is useless and
to save the meaning of
the things I have to keep.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Jerry and I always felt that the character was enjoying himself. He was having fun: he wasn't taking himself seriously. It was always a lark for him, as you can see in my early drawings.
quote by Joe Shuster
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Barns..
Barns the cat,
who knows where it's at.
He torments the dog,
as she sleep like a log.
Jumping at the dog through the air,
bouncing, darting across the floors,
On the tables and chairs,
clawing cupboards and doors.
He's got no cares.
Walks up the walls,
taking no notice of ‘get down' calls!
Yes Barns the cat,
who know where it's at!
guy lipmore.
25/06/92
poem by Guy Lipmore
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These Walls
These walls
They are the plainest of color.
It is as though they are made to make one suffer.
Surrounded by them, ever so bleak
Makes my energy drain, leaving me weak.
These walls
How can they be so bare?
It's almost as if no one cares.
They almost never bring me cheer.
Instead they instill a little fear.
These walls
Never seem to move
For they have nothing to prove.
They just stand their gorund,
Knowing, always, where to be found.
These walls
My patience is beginning to run thin.
I feel completely trapped within.
I want to curl up into a ball and hide
But I know that would be a hit to my pride.
These walls
This is completely unfair.
I just want to feel the fresh air
And the warmth of the sun
Instead of the air conditioning that always seems to run.
These walls
poem by Ashley Reese
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Happiness
The great stone Hall is silent
that is now millennia old.
Through the western windows
shines a glorious sun.
It floods the walls and floors,
the tables, chairs and doors,
panelling, pictures, artefacts
and illumines every one
until the wraiths that gather
cry out in their joy,
'Everything is gold!
Whatever is, is gold! '
A majestic cloud
emerges from the southern sea,
slides across the western sky
blotting out the sun.
Light through those western windows
pales to a thin grey day.
It dims the walls and floors,
the tables, chairs and doors,
panelling, pictures, artefacts
pales every one
until the wraiths in the shadows
cry out in dismay,
'Gone is gold, the gold is gone!
All joy has passed away! '
poem by Brian Taylor
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Between Walls Between Walls
walls around us
always walls around us
morning till noon
till night walls always walls between
us i try to inser some words
of consolation between us
all walls rain walls between us
there is no word for us
for it
we, it, we, us, there is nothing
between us
air, between, us, air, air, air,
between us, still walls, walls,
speak, speak
why, why are these walls still walls
between us
i guess, you are dead, then
cogito, eureka,
will i be a happy man then?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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No Half-Time For Snacks
I am often amused
By those who believe
Creative people are weak.
I never thought that myself.
Since I knew too many geniuses...
Nearly living in the streets.
To pursue their way of life.
They weren't the ones,
Having coffee and buns.
And waiting to take an hour lunch break...
To come back to a desk,
To finish something that never gets done.
Or have cash on hand,
From a job where they are incompetent.
Everyone I knew who created...
Were and still are masters,
Of their gifts and talents.
And I know of very few...
Who take from nothing,
To make something like they do!
While so many take creativity for granted.
With nothing in their lives to pursue...
But a happy hour after work.
To discuss who they wish to screw...
Before going home to smoke pot,
Or booze to annoy someone
Who listens to them sing the blues.
And all of those who do create...
Are somewhere applying their craft.
24/7!
With no half-time for snacks!
Or...
Spending most of their lives,
Complaining!
Laying to lounge or sleep on their backs.
With a remote in hand,
Surfing through their televised adventures.
To boast about...
At their next 'business' meeting.
How creative?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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