En.Citatepedia^®.ro

First Class Illusion

The only true crime.
The one true appalling crime.
When living with; one status
demanding deluded woman.

Who thinks believes, she is first class personified?
Who models herself, as perfection pedestal attained?
Who perceives herself, as perfection style glorified?

Is not that she thinks believes,
with need condescending heart.
Her spouse plus everyone else,
are somehow seedy second class.

No absolute unforgivable sin?
Repetition oh too tiresome,
constantly kneading in your face fact;
is being tried condemned; constantly
as condescended to third class.

By a status perceived bigot?
By a woman with no class?

It’s tough living
with an opinionated pinhead.
It’s tough living
with a woman;
with an ultra-inflated ego.

Many women will understand this
women living with male chauvinistic pigs.
Superiority beliefs malice hatred is
neither gender nor nationality exclusive.

Sexism as a male dynamic
is attempt to ward off anxiety theoretically
shame arising from one or
more of four prime sources understood as

unresolved infantile strivings
which induces regressive wishes;
hostile envy of gender women;
oedipal anxiety, Oedipus complex;

(Electra complex, a separate female issue)
lastly power and dependency
conflicts related to masculine self-esteem.
Mothers as primary care givers

are perceived in traditional family
contexts to be more important than fathers
in set development of chauvinism,
regardless resolution is associated with childhood.

It’s tough house trap having
to deal with explosive tantrum
dealing emotional sabotage;
preying upon familiarity;
with fuse personal integrity;
pushing all relationship buttons.

It’s tough partner bound having
an insensitive comfortless spouse
with no sanctuary respecting class.

It’s tough having
a comfortless spouse
with pity no class.

Real beauty is not skin deep.
Real beauty is not shallow cheap.
Real heart of gold is one to keep.

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Prince Of The Punks

A well known groover, rock n roll user,
Wanted to be a star.
But he failed the blues, and hes back to loser,
Playing folk in a country bar.
Reggae music didnt seem to satisfy his needs.
He couldnt handle modern jazz,
cause they play it in difficult keys.
But now hes found a music he can call his own,
Some people call it junk, but he dont care,
Hes found a home.
Hes the prince of the punks and hes finally made it,
Thinks he looks cool but his act is dated.
He acts working class but its all bologna,
Hes really middle class and hes just a phony.
He acts tough but its just a front,
Hes the prince of the punks.
Hes the prince of the punks and hes finally made it,
Thinks he looks cool but his act is dated.
He tried to be gay, but it didnt pay,
So he bought a motorbike instead.
He failed at funk, so he became a punk,
cause he thought hed make a little more bread.
Hes been through all of the changes,
From rock opera to mantovani.
Now he wears a swastika band
And leather boots up past his knees.
Hes much too old for twenty-eight,
But he thinks hes seventeen,
He thinks hes a stud,
But I think he looks more like a queen.
Hes the prince of the punks and hes finally made it,
Thinks he looks cool but his act is dated.
He talks like a cockney but its all bologna,
Hes really middle class and hes just a phony.
He acts tough but its just a front.
Hes the prince of the punks and hes finally made it,
Thinks he looks cool but his act is dated.
He acts working class but its all bologna,
Hes really middle class and hes just a phony.
He acts tough but its just a front,
Hes the prince of the punks and hes finally made it,
Thinks he looks cool but his act is dated.
He acts working class but its all bologna,
Hes really middle class and hes just a phony.
He acts tough but its just a front,
Hes the prince of the punks.

song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Class has a sense of humor. It knows that a good laugh is the best lubricant for oiling the machinery of human relations. Class never makes excuses. It takes its lumps and learns from past mistakes. Class bespeaks an aristocracy unrelated to ancestors or money. Some extremely wealthy people have no class at all, while others who are struggling to make ends meet are loaded with it. Class is real. You can't fake it. Class never tries to build itself up by tearing others down. Class is already up and need not attempt to look better by making others look worse. Everyone is comfortable with the person who has class because he is comfortable with himself. If you have class, you've got it made. If you don't have class, no matter what else you have, it won't make up for it.

quote by Ann Landers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Male/Female

i find it sad how men,
in their 'infinite wisdom',
throughout the centuries,
have created a male world,
driven by a male ego,
controlled by male wisdom,
under the banner of a male god,
created in the image of man!

and yet the power of creation
has always dwelled in the feminine...
wisdom, passion, eros, beauty,
and even childbirth...
men in their fear of what they
dont understand, and of what they
cant do in themselves...
have always sought to keep the female
down, regulating her to second class
status, keeping her subjugated.

look at how we've ended up! a total
disaster created by self oriented fear!
i think it's time we stepped back, and
looked at the truth!

we wouldnt be here without women...
would have very little understanding
of love and family!
that which moves and flows, creates,
and brings night after day, and day
after night, has always been the feminine...
i stand in awe of woman... can feel her
presence in both the wind and the rain...
the emancipated woman stands at the door,
both mystery and faith by her side!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Shes Too Tough

My girl, everybody says shes alright
And I know that shes more than alright
Well, shes a hard headed woman
Got a mean attitude
I may have bitten off more than I can chew
I get a little light headed
At her altitude
But she goes one step higher
If Im going to spend the rest of my life
With a woman like that, I better think twice
Shes too tough
I said shes too tough
From the moment she wakes up
Her mind is made up
Shes too tough, shes too tough
My girl, shes got a way about her
I know I can never live without her
Shes a hard headed woman
So hard to please
Shes got her own way of dealing with me
Im out on a limb, Im a cat up a tree
But this trees on fire
I want that woman for the rest of my life
I dont know if Im up to payin the price
Shes too tough
I said that shes too tough
From the moment she wakes up
Her mind is made up
Shes too tough
You hear shes too tough
Well I dont believe
Ill ever leave her
Shes too tough, shes too tough
Well if Im gonna spend the rest of my life
With a woman like her, Id better think twice
Shes too tough
I said shes too tough
From the moment she wakes up
Her mind is made up
Shes too tough, thats right
Shes too tough
If I do what Im told
Shes gooder than gold to me
Shes too tough
I said shes too tough
When push comes to shove
This must be love
Shes too tough
Yeah shes too tough
Well I dont believe
Id ever leave her, never leave her
Shes too tough, shes too tough

song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Simplistic Solutions: Sexual Discrimination Sells

Advertisement companies use sex
(unisex maximizes
gender hormonal appeals)
because sex sells sells sells baby.

Such sweeping statements
are compelling indictments
against civilized society

(supposedly male dominated
but at the lower end of the scale
that’s not a bowl of cherries either baby

- like get real poor men suffer ladies)

and cannot be struck legitimately
from decades past sexual
discrimination extant public records.

People who indiscriminately hate
(their frustrated gendered
class bound inequality position)

need someone else to blame
(for failure or lack of ultimate

effort applied
to all attempts

made in hopes
of attaining success.)

Wrongs individually committed
(by gender / class / race)
are often erroneously judged

(indicted indignantly)

ranted against
an entire gender class
race inappropriately.

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Prince Of Punks

A well known groover, rock 'n' roll user,
Wanted to be a star.
But he failed the blues, and he's back to loser,
Playing folk in a country bar.
Reggae music didn't seem to satisfy his needs.
He couldn't handle modern jazz,
'Cause they play it in difficult keys.
But now he's found a music he can call his own,
Some people call it junk, but he don't care,
He's found a home.
He's the prince of the punks and he's finally made it,
Thinks he looks cool but his act is dated.
He acts working class but it's all bologna,
He's really middle class and he's just a phony.
He acts tough but it's just a front,
He's the prince of the punks.
He's the prince of the punks and he's finally made it,
Thinks he looks cool but his act is dated.
He tried to be gay, but it didn't pay,
So he bought a motorbike instead.
He failed at funk, so he became a punk,
'Cause he thought he'd make a little more bread.
He's been through all of the changes,
From rock opera to Mantovani.
Now he wears a swastika band
And leather boots up past his knees.
He's much too old for twenty-eight,
But he thinks he's seventeen,
He thinks he's a stud,
But I think he looks more like a queen.
He's the prince of the punks and he's finally made it,
Thinks he looks cool but his act is dated.
He talks like a Cockney but it's all bologna,
He's really middle class and he's just a phony.
He acts tough but it's just a front.
He's the prince of the punks and he's finally made it,
Thinks he looks cool but his act is dated.
He acts working class but it's all bologna, -acapo

song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Class

A beautiful morning!
It begins with delicious foods.
Multistoried buildings showing
an extra dignity to the dignified fellows are no doubt great.
Android, tablet, laptops performing
exciting activities are no doubt perfect.
A class! really higher class….
Yes, I also have these (Ha! Ha!) .
Suddenly, I placed my eyes into a boy.
He has a dusty sack except having a toy.
Now, I’m watching him deeply .
I got his face slippery.
He is a dweller of a slum.
Now, he want to make wet his tongue
seeking some food.
Do you know, what the expensive articles are in his bag?
He gathers your damaged glasses, your furniture’s, our toilet mug….
He wants to exchange it
to get his living a little bit.
Alas! What a class!
You know this class.
I will be happiest one
If I would get him a class.
He needs a class…….

poem by Bibhakar Dutta
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I shall call the class, Heaven

'A class is not just a class
A class is like a temple.'
'Such as the God lives in temple
Same way the students lives in the class
Both are with the shiny face and broad smile.'
'A class is like a flower
That blooms with the light of the students.'
'A class is like a nursery
In which every type of flower planted.'
'In this way the class is a heaven
If we see it with our soul eyes
If we feel it
then we will find us
In the presence of God
And that is our respected Teachers.'

poem by Mahaveer Kumawat
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Women Were Once Popes

Three times a Pope was a woman.
Instead of a man.
Believe this if you can.

These women were cross dressers looking like men.
YES, three women were the leaders living ruling the Vatican.

Of course, each had a special plan.
To get elected to the Highest position of man.

In the Vatican all women were banned.
Crafty women used ways to infiltrate the Vatican's secrete clan.
In religion, women had taken all they could stand.
From men that don't understand women.

Back then, could you imagine being a lowly woman.
And having a High Class man, manually using a fan
With his hand
To cool here off after she ran.
The powerful State the Vatican.

Woman Popes were the most powerful humans of all lands
During their tenure, lacking the correct sex glands.

Arts not kidding about women leading the Vatican.
They, wishing he would shut up of a woman Pope faked as man.

poem by Arthur Knackmus
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Women! (Forget Not!)

women....
too long too often
held down, beat down,

treated like second class,
no class, throw aways...
no voice, no choice,

emotional garbage....
mankind should bow
it's head in shame....

beauty, intelligence,
heart reasoning....
human beings with will,

equal in every way,
human beings with rights....
man! forget not

from where you came!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Lessons

Lessons are learnt to display hurt of the unruly parties,
As they joke and burden their souls with grief of life.
Angers are perverse creations, created by demigods,
Which parley with dangers of the soceity they sparkle in.
Solid anger is against all desire, anticipated by the masculine person,
A man, who seeks education and mastery of life.
He cannot ask of the living class, the loving class, the lovely class,
And as a woman he does not act, yet gets fighting with the chieftain,
Only to withdraw his standard and be rejected.
Lessons are learnt and jobs are conducted.

poem by Naveed Akram
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The true beauty!

The beautiful smile,
The beautiful figure,
The beautiful voice,
A smart guy,
A smiley person, .
A punk attitude.
The pinkish lip,
The reddish white skin,
The moon like face cut.
Black long hair.
Deep blue eyes,
Tough and rough treat,
Can any one of these
Be a standard unit,
To measure the beauty,
Of a man or woman?
Is there any thing to judge,
The true beauty of human?

I think we every one,
Every person in this world,
Blind, deaf, dumb,
Black, white, grayish,
Diseased, disabled,
Rich, poor, middle class,
Whatever he is,
As a human being,
He is the true beauty,
With what he has....

poem by Kafil Uddin Raihan.
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Living's Just A Tough Way To Go

Living's just a tough way to go
Like riding a wild bronc
In an old West rodeo.
Somedays I'm the clown,
Somedays I'm the whole damn show.

Come what may,
Like old cowboys, we're all just drifting
Our few days away.
Fast or slow
Living's just a tough way to go.

Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust,
The way life rains down
You'd think we'd all turn to rust.
Fast or slow
Living's just a tough way to go.

My heads full of pockets
From the pounding hail,
While thirsty I stand in the desert
With one big hole in my only pail.
Fast or slow
Living's just a tough way to go.

Whether throwing saddles on cattle
Or shoveling snow in old Frisco,
Life's just one helluva tough way to go.

To survive we all do
What we have to do.
Just an old story,
It's really nothing new... but,
All God's children will somehow make it through,
For this life is always going to be
A tough way to go, for me,
And for you.

poem by Smoky Hoss
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Working Class Hero

(alan jackson/don sampson)
A callused right hand
Holds a shiny gold watch
For thirty years spent on the clock
But you wont see no tears
>from this workin class hero
Hes always been hard as a rock
But he knows hes too old
To really start over
Besides he just wouldnt know how
I guess hes just glad
That hes not alone
But hes got to wonder what now
cause theres no hall of fame for that working class hero
No statute carved out of stone
And his greatest reward is the love of a woman
And his children
So after hes gone
That old working class hero lives on
That three-bedroom house
He built in the 50s
Seems so much bigger today
With just him and mama
And not many bills
cause all of the kids moved away
What hes done with his life
Might not be remembered
But hes got every right to be proud
cause the blood sweatin years
Of this workin class hero
Is really what livins about
cause theres no hall of fame for that working class hero
No statute carved out of stone
And his greatest reward is the love of a woman
And his children
So after hes gone
That old workin class hero lives on
Yes, that workin class hero lives on
That workin class hero lives on

song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My class

My class is a funny class
When the teacher is not in
Our class is a circus
That will conquer the school

We have acrobats
We have clowns
and we even have elephants

My class is a noisy class
When the teacher is not in
Our class is a market
That will conquer the school

We have hawkers
We have fruiterers
and we even have butchers

No matter what
A circus or a market
We enjoy our class
When the teacher is not in

poem by Sarah Ally
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for Claribelle

Life is a polite woman.
I have always told you that in class.
I delight in the politeness of a woman.
Outside the class.

When i fall in love, i keep it
to myself. There is no courage for
me to say it. I keep my own joys.

You are a polite woman.
I named you my own Life.
The class do not know that.
I keep it upon myself as a
lovely burden. I keep sorrows too.
Secretly, like
a divine burden, an un-confessed
sin.

Sometimes, i have not told you
before you left, i also mumble upon
myself, without any wish
that i may understand what i
try to hide,
completely. Soon i forget and then
I am happy again.

That is what life is all about.
I am polite too.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Class of 08

The class of 08 is the best
The class of 08 is above the rest
The class of 08 passed all there test so
The class of 08 will graduate!

poem by Kamilah Samuels
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Hangin Tough

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.
Listen up everybody if you wanna take a chance.
(rap:) just get on the floor and do the new kids dance.
Dont worry bout nothing cause it wont take long.
(rap:) were gonna put you in a trance with a funky song, cause you gotta be
Hangin tough, hangin tough, hangin tough.
(rap:) were rough.
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.
Everybodys always talkin bout whos on top.
(rap:) dont cross our path cause youre gonna get stomped.
We aint gonna give anybody any slack.
(rap:) and if you try to keep us down were gonna come right back,
And you know were
Hangin tough, hangin tough, hangin tough.
(rap:) are you tough enough?
Hangin tough, hangin tough, hangin tough.
(rap:) were rough.
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.
Get loose everybody cause were gonna do our thing.
(rap:) cause you know it aint over till the fat lady sings.
Hangin tough, hangin tough, hangin tough.
(rap:) are you tough enough?
Hangin tough, hangin tough, hangin tough.
(rap:) were rough.
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, just hangin tough, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, hangin tough.
(repeat & fade)

song performed by by New Kids On The Block
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Trouser Enthusiast

Feminism is my middle name,
For I fight for the right for female empowerment,
I don't like women being treated like second class citizens,
I want all women to have equal opportunities,
To live in the same community with the same rights,
I am glad women have the vote,
That there're female doctors, nurses, lawyers and the suchlike,
For I am a trouser enthusiast through and through,
But I am not butch, although I do wear lipstick,
For women shouldn't have to look like a girl,
Talk like a man and think like a woman,
Women should not have to change into something they're not,
But feminism has taken charge for the century just gone,
Women fighting for their social freedom and not allowing themselves,
To be treated like a sex object, for a woman isn't just a body:
A woman has a brain and deserves to be treated with respect,
Not to be treated in an inferior way,
And women have learnt to wear the trousers in the relationship,
And don't accept or tolerate abuse and won't allow themselves to be used,
For this is derogatory and the lowest of the low,
And all women, young and old, need to know,
That they deserve respect in any relationship and any violent man,
Needs to be kicked to the kerb and shown the door.

poem by Paula Glynn
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Women's Liberation

Talk to me about the feminist movement,
the gubba middle class
hetero sexual revolution
way back in the seventies
when men wore tweed jackets with
leather elbows, and the women, well
I don’t remember or maybe I just don’t care
or can’t relate.
Now what were those white women on about?
What type of neurosis was fashionable back then?
So maybe I was only a school kid; and kids, like women,
have got on thing that joins that schemata,
like we’re not worth listening to,
and who wants to liberate women and children
what will happen in an egalitarian society
if the women and the kids start becoming complacent
in that they believe they should have rights
and economic independence,
and what would these middle class kids and white women do
with liberation, with freedom, with choices of
do I stay with my man, do I fall in love with other
white middle class women, and it wouldn’t matter if
my new woman had kids or maybe even kids and dogs
Yes I’m for the women’s movement
I want to be free and wear dunlop tennis shoes.
And indigenous women, well surely, the liberation
of white women includes all women regardless . . .
It doesn’t, well that’s not for me to deal with
I mean how could I, a white middle class woman,
who is deciding how can I budget when my man won’t
pay the school fees and the diner’s card club simply
won’t extend credit.
I don’t even know if I’m capable
of understanding
Aborigines, in Victoria?
Aboriginal women, here, I’ve never seen one,
and if I did, what would I say,
damned if I’m going to feel guilty, for wanting something
better for me, for women in general, not just white
middle class Volvo driving, part time women’s studies
students
Maybe I didn’t think, maybe I thought women in general
meant, Aboriginal women, the Koori women in Victoria
Should I apologise
should I feel guilty
Maybe the solution is to sponsor
a child through world vision.
Yes that’s probably best,
I feel like I could cope with that,
Look, I’d like to do something for our Aborigines
but I haven’t even met one,
and if I did I would say
all this business about land rights, maybe I’m a bit
scared, what’s it mean, that some day I’ll wake up
and there will be this flag, what is it, you know
red, black and that yellow circle, staked out front
and then what, Okay I’m sorry, I feel guilt
is that what I should be shouting
from the top of the rialto building
The women’s movement saved me
maybe the 90s will be different.
I’m not sure what I mean, but I know that although
it’s not just a women’s liberation that will free us
it’s a beginning

poem by Lisa Bellear
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