En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Lineage

It was set on fire, the market place:
from a distance I was watching, the
hieroglyphic climate of the cutouts;

some shoes with yellow human feet embedded
in them, were thrown on the images
of gods, lying on the steps of tanks:

on hills the sex workers were doing
brisk business in private retreats
of the holiest of towns, a golden dome

was being erected as an insult to poors,
the streaked priests chanting the sacred
hymns, hurling the abuses on red faced

simians waiting on the rooftops,
ashamed to share the inherited lineage
but why one should kill one’s own daughter?

poem by Satish Verma
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I too, have got shoes

Have you seen shoes on children here
No shoes for other children
No shoes for your children
My uncle said to my dad

I lost my shoes—small shoes
from then on
My feet crushed the thorns
from then on

The city was taken from me
But not me from the city
from then on

Many years later my shoe remover died
And I got back my shoes
Bigger shoes—for crushing thorns
from then on

I cat walked in them
And went to bed in them
from then on

I got the city back
Even when I stayed there
from then on

Believe me I too have got shoes
And I slip my feet in them
But not for sleep anymore
Yes I too have got shoes

Other children wear shoes
My children wear shoes
Wear shoes why not
Why not why not why not why not

Shoes in the cot
Shoes to school
Shoes to the market
Shoes to the office
Why not wear shoes

poem by Moses Kainwo
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War Photograph

A naked child is running
along the path toward us,
her arms stretched out,
her mouth open,
the world turned to trash
behind her.

She is running from the smoke
and the soldiers, from the bodies
of her mother and little sister
thrown down into a ditch,
from the blown-up bamboo hut
from the melted pots and pans.
And she is also running from the gods
who have changed the sky to fire
and puddled the earth with skin and blood.
She is running--my god--to us,
10,000 miles away,
reading the caption
beneath her picture
in a weekly magazine.
All over the country
we're feeling sorry for her
and being appalled at the war
being fought in the other world.
She keeps on running, you know,
after the shutter of the camera
clicks. She's running to us.
For how can she know,
her feet beating a path
on another continent?
How can she know
what we really are?
From the distance, we look
so terribly human.

poem by Kate Daniels
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Burning Feet

No standing with these burning feet
I got to kill the the fire
Got to kill the heat
I see a road and a river
I gotta go
'cos there's fire in my shoes
And you're moving too slow
For these burning feet
I got to move
Burning feet
Need a cool groove
Burning feet
Win or lose
Looking to kill the heat
Oh these burning shoes
One day they'll find me in pieces,
By the side of the track
Smoke trail behind me,
Flames from my back
This is what made me,
Yeah how I was made
Forever, in the heat
And never in the shade
Of these burning feet
Burning feet
I got to move
Burning feet
Need a cool groove
Burning feet
Win or lose
Looking to kill the heat
Oh these burning shoes

song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lake Of Fire

Drugs will not be thrown into the Lake of Fire!
But human beings will;
Strong drinks will not be thrown into the Lake of Fire!
But human beings will;
So learn from it and come out of this Babylonian system around you.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Eht Emas

There once was a place where everyone was Tan
Every woman, child, and man
Tan hair, Tan shoes, Tan skin, and Tan clothes
Why they were all Tan is something that nobody knows
For you see in this place of monotonous living un-Tan beings were unheard of
There was a very strange thing about these Tan people.
For you see the Tan people had wings but many feared to fly
A Yellow man came to this place one day
It seemed that the Yellow man was strange
His hair was not Tan and his skin was not Tan
He smiled more often and dressed funny too
His name was Alabazoo
He came from a place called Tnereffid
The Tan people were irate and filled with hate
Who did this Yellow man think he was?
As much as the Yellow man tried to be liked the Tan people would not budge
The Yellow man offered the Tan people Brownies they wanted Fudge
Though it seems some of Tan people preferred Brownies,
Some secretly wished for Fudge
They growled and they hissed until the Yellow man left
Leaving the Tan people of Lamron to their life.
The Tan people still exist but is seems that they reside only in Sdnim now.

poem by Jeanne Harmon
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Gods

Gods of the white man,
Gods of the black man,
Gods of the almond shade
all of these Gods
have done one thing,
made the people afraid.

Gods of the red man,
Gods of the brown man
Gods of the yellow hue,
all of these Gods
have done the same
divided them into

Separate people
who've been led to believe
their God is the holy one
to save their souls
and pardon them
and deliver them
from earthly sin.

How can there be
so many Gods?
Isn't there only one?
One for every single soul
born unto this earth.
He's every color that there is
since the world's begun.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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My Ambitions Are to Defy Logic

Why do you tie your shoes like that?

'To see how quickly it can be done,
When they are on my feet.'

But wouldn't it be easier,
To put them 'on' your feet...
Enabling you to both time 'that'
As well as have the shoes already on your feet?

'My ambitions are to defy logic.
I am not going to bore myself with it! '

I see!
And you still say...
Your recent split from your relationship,
With your spouse...
Has nothing to do with your increased strange behavior?

'What strange behavior?
If this is what I want to do,
Why to you it has to be so 'strange'? '

Well,
It's like this...
You are sitting on your front lawn,
In broad daylight.
Sitting in your underwear.
And there is a gathering of your neighbors,
Across the street...
Watching you,
Tie shoes that are not on your feet.
Over and over again.
This is strange behavior.

'Who cares what they think?
Those are the same people who called the police,
When I chose to lay on my own roof butt naked...
During the last rain storm we had a few weeks ago.
And like I told the police.
And my 'mate'.
Who am I offending if I have chosen not to circumcise? '

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Shoe Argument....

there is this connection
his feet are too small for the shoes
and he is having a hard
time fitting in

what he expects is something
different
something that someone may
find too usual

the shoes are always thought of
as smaller
than that of the feet

i am thinking of another point
what if we have no feet at all?
and the shoes are all too expensive?

same thing perhaps.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pretty Girls

Here she comes just a-walk just just a-walkin down the street
Singin down do be do do wop a do do wop
Singin down do be do do wop a do do wop
See the pretty pretty pretty girls in the street
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
See them walkin with their pretty shoes on their feet
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
I took a walk round the market down town
Taking it easy just to see what I could find
I found the girls there, long legs and blond hair
All getting set to make a mess out of my mind
Hey! eyes left!
See the pretty pretty pretty girls in the street
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
See them walkin with their pretty shoes on their feet
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
I got my heart burnt, you know where I hurt
They say the miniskirt is coming back in style
I say its not fair but what do they care
When youve got power then you use it for a while
Hey! eyes right!
See the pretty pretty pretty girls in the street
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
See them walkin with their pretty shoes on their feet
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
God, if youre up there, listen to my prayer
In future man should have a different design
Give him a switch so he can turn off his libido now
Give him a tranquilizer built into his mind
Hey! eyes right!
See the pretty pretty pretty girls in the street
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
See them walkin with their pretty shoes on their feet
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
Dont talk to me about womens liberation
They already got their right just where it hurts
Now here she comes just a-walk just a-walkin down the street
Singin down do be do do wop a do do wop
Singin down do be do do wop a do do wop
See the pretty pretty pretty girls in the street
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
See them walkin with their pretty shoes on their feet
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop
Down do be do do wop a do do wop a do do wop

song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In My shoe

You that wear masks
In colours and shapes,
Thinking no one sees you;
You that smile in day
And frown at night
Wishing your day never end
And the nights never existed;
You are in my shoes
Like sands in my feet
And the world over my head.

Yes you! I see you
They see you
But am seeing you
Different than they do
They can see your Cinderella shoes
And bright yellow dress
With those marching and glittering
Pearl earrings and necklace
But I see your Cinderella pain
Like myself on the mirror.

Who am i?
I am you
But I am true,
Glued to my situation
In pleasures and passions
Telling the walls not to keep my secrets
Because am not you
Am just in your shoes
Like sands in my feet
And the world over my head.

poem by Tee'k Aminu
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The Gods Of The Copybook Headings

As I pass through my incarnations in every age and race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market-Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall.
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.

We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn.
That water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision, and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorilas while we followed the March of Mankind.

We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither clud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market-Place;
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.

With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch.
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch.
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings.
So we worshiped the Gods of the Market Who promiced these beautiful things.

When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promiced perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: 'Stick to the Devil you know.'

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promiced the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbor and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: 'The Wages of Sin is Death/'

In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selective Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: 'If you don't work you die.'

The the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tounged wizards withdrew,
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to belive it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four---
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man---
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began:---
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her mire,
And the burnt Fool's bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;
And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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More Hair!

You've already taken my lunch, my socks, my long-distance binocs,
Now what do you want?
More Hair!

My jeans, my spleens, my workout magazines,
They're gone, now you want?
More Hair!

I gave you my gum, cilium, chromium,
my green shoes, my feet shoes, my mangy old street shoes,
Come on, you want?
More Hair!

Give me my CDs, my TVs, my Wheaties and my Levi's.
Know what I'll give you?
More Hair!

poem by John W. McEwers
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Ten Feet Away

Ten Feet Away?
Diamond Rio
Alone at a corner table
She was watching me watching her
I was singing about an old flame burning
She was hanging onto every word
I was pouring out my feelings
She was pouring out the wine
Through the smoke and the beer
It was perfectly clear
That we were touching each other's minds
It was love ten feet away
Imagine her in my arms
With that look on her face
Lying somewhere in some shadowy place
It was love just ten feet away
I just knew my closing song would do it
I knew that I was heaven bound
I could tell she was moved
But before I was through
This stranger walked up and sat down
He was trying his best to impress her
But she never took her eyes off me
When he got up and left
I said to myself
"Whoa, what a night this will be"
It was love ten feet away
Imagine her in my arms
With that look on her face
Lying somewhere in some shadowy place
It was love just ten feet away
It was love ten feet away
Imagine her in my arms
With that look on her face
Lying somewhere in some shadowy place
It was love just ten feet away
Ten Feet Away Lyrics by Keith Whitley

song performed by by Diamond Rio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have golden shoes

I have golden shoes
To make me fleet.
They are like the wind
Underneath my feet.
When my lover's kiss
Is overbold,
I can run away
In my shoes of gold.
Nay, when I am shod
With this bright fire,
I am forced to run
From my own desire.
From the love I love
Whose arms enfold
I must run away
In my shoes of gold.

poem by Lesbia Harford
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The Climate Change Converts

After eleven years as Prime Minister it does seem quite strange
That John Howard the ageing politician is talking of climate change
But this after all is an Election year
And of losing the top job is now his greatest fear.

For eleven years warnings of climate change he chose to ignore
But climate change has become an Election issue as never before
Howard the climate change convert on combating climate change now leads the way
On climate change he has become an instant expert and on it has much to say.

His opponent for the top job Kevin Rudd is a climate change convert too
It is amazing what an Election can do
To the climate change realist voters they are trying to appeal
Of climate change suddenly they make a big deal.

The ideas of the climate change experts Howard and Rudd now embrace
As their moment of truth they are about to face
The climate realist voters they are trying to appease
But try as they will not everyone they will please.

poem by Francis Duggan
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I Have No Desire To Limp Home With Agonized Feet

I don't have to be in 'his' shoes,
To know what it is like...
To commit to do for others.
And have those oppose my sacrifice,
To share with a few who listen and gossip...
About what I do they would do differently,
Because what I do for 'them' is either criticized.
But mostly disliked.

I don't have to be in 'his' shoes,
To know what it is like...
To commit to do for others.
However,
I have learned over the years...
When those shoes became too tight to wear,
I do not keep them on to soak my feet...
When not in public.

Oh no.
I don't have to be in 'his' shoes,
To know what it is like...
To commit to do for others.
Every pair of shoes I put on today...
Are guaranteed to provide my comfort.
I have no desire to limp home with agonized feet.
After I have met with a group of ungrateful people.
And to argue their cause too?
No!
I've already made those donations.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The guru is not other: a metaphysical proposition

It was his distance, that at first brought awe:
so great, so perfect, so ideal.. so far…
so distance humbles, brings humility;
the beauty of his feet, on earth we share;

and then, as if upon a flat-race turf,
the barriers built.. as if there long ago;
he, further over hedge and gate and brook;
and I, but wilful weakness, wailing ‘woe’..

until at last I sought him as a friend;
to meet within the heart we truly share;
surrendered distance, consciousness, and time:
asked nothing; difference thrown into the air;

I care not now, for pronouns ‘he’ and ‘me’;
his eye, my I; ourselves one self to be.

*

Dedicated to the one who asked.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Tall Ambrosia

Among the signs of autumn I perceive
The Roman wormwood (called by learned men
Ambrosia elatior, food for gods,—
For to impartial science the humblest weed
Is as immortal once as the proudest flower—)
Sprinkles its yellow dust over my shoes
As I cross the now neglected garden.
—We trample under foot the food of gods
And spill their nectar in each dropp of dew—
My honest shoes, fast friends that never stray
Far from my couch, thus powdered, countryfied,
Bearing many a mile the marks of their adventure,
At the post-house disgrace the Gallic gloss
Of those well dressed ones who no morning dew
Nor Roman wormwood ever have been through,
Who never walk but are transported rather—
For what old crime of theirs I do not gather.

poem by Henry David Thoreau
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The Adventurer of God

They are solid steel, the rocks are built by gods,
Mountains and volcanoes are one, by gods.

Yet we see the lava flow and the abolishment,
To address them is to arrive at and abandon, by gods.

Any geographical feature on the map carries fascination,
One is adventured, one is fine with distortion, by gods.

The map is a remedy for the plain and ill, the happier,
Yellow streams and wooden forests are a distinction, by gods.

Let us laugh and be merry on this whole globe,
Let godliness reign supreme with this incantation, by gods.

The gods are lovable towards their kingdom,
The wishes of the valley are mine in slow-motion, by the gods.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Cry Freedom

How can I turn away
Brother/sister go dancing
Through my head
Human as to human
The future is no place
To place your better days
Cry freedom, cry
From a crowd 10,000 wide
Hope laid upon hope
That this crowd will not subside
Let this flag burn to dust
And a new a fair design be raised
While we wait head in hands,
Hands in prayer
And fall into a dreamless sleep again
And we wave our hands
Hands and feet are all alike
But gold between divide us
Hands and feet are all alike
But fear between divide us
All slip away
There was a window and by it stood
A mirror in which
He could see himself
He thought of something
Something he had never had but
Hoped would come along
Cry freedom, cry
From deep inside
Where we are all confined
While we wave hands in fire
Wave our hands
Hands and feet are all alike
But gold between divide us
Hands and feet are all alike
But fear between divide us,
Slip away
In this room stood a little child
And in this room this little child
She would remain
Until someone might decide
To dance this little child
Across this hall
Into a cold, dark, space
Where she might never trace her
Way across this crooked mile
Across this crooked page
Cry freedom, cry
From deep inside where
We are all confined
Till we wave our hands
How can I turn away
Brother/sister go dancing
Through my head
Human as to human
The future is no place
To place your better days
Hands and feet are all alike but gold between divide us hands and feet are all alike but fear between divide us hands and feet are all alike hear what I say hear what I say oh, so be it
How can I turn away brother/sister go dancing through my head human as to human the future is no place to place your better days

song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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