Mugging in Edinburgh
The Yank came in over night
and at breakfast that morning
in the Edinburgh hotel
he said
I was mugged last night
at the railway station
and your brother said
how comes that happened?
Well I was in the john
the Yank said
and someone banged
on the door of the stall
and said
open up I’m going to throw up
and so I opened up
and the guy pushed me back
and stole my wallet
out of my pants
and ran off with it
and you said
you opened up
to let the guy in
while you were on the john?
well I wasn’t thinking
the Yank replied
I just thought
well he needs to get in
and the other guests
at the table
looked at each other
but said nothing
and your brother said
what did you do then?
Oh I finished my business
and phoned the cops
the Yank said
and they
were most helpful
they said they’d
get in touch
when they caught the guy
and you said
you want any ketchup
with that sausage,
bacon and egg?
and the Yank nodded
and you felt his hand
touching your leg.
poem by Terry Collett
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Related quotes
Uhf
Put down your remote control
Throw out your tv guide
Put away your jacket
Theres no need to go outside
Dont you know that we control the horizontal
We control the verticle, too
We gonna make a couch potato out of you
Thats what we gonna do now
Dont change the channel
Dont touch that dial
We got it all on uhf
Kick off your sneakers
Stick around for a while
We got it all on uhf
Dont worry bout your laundry
Forget about your job
Just crank up the volume
And yank off the knob
We got it all, we got it all, we got it all on uhf
Disconnect the phone and leave the dishes in the sink
You better put away your homework
Prime time aint no time to think
All you do is make yourself a tv dinner
Press your face right up against the screen
We gonna show you thangs you aint ever seen
If you know what I mean, now
Dont change the channel
Dont touch that dial
We got it all on uhf
Kick off your sneakers
Stick around for a while
We got it all on uhf
Dont worry bout your laundry
Forget about your job
Just crank up the volume
And yank off the knob
We got it all, we got it all, we got it all on uhf
You can watch us all day
You can watch us all night
You can watch us any time that you please
You can sit around and stare at the picture tube
till your brain turns into cottage cheese
Well, now
Dont change the channel
Dont touch that dial
We got it all on uhf
Kick off your sneakers
Stick around for a while
We got it all on uhf
Dont worry bout your laundry
Forget about your job
Just crank up the volume
And yank off the knob
We got it all, we got it all, we got it all on uhf
We got it all on uhf (uhf)
We got it all on uhf (uhf)
We got it all on uhf (uhf)
We got it all on uhf (we got it all)
We got it all on uhf (uhf)
We got it all on uhf (uhf)
We got it all on uhf (uhf)
We got it all on uhf (we got it all)
We got it all (we got it all) on uhf (we got it)
(we got it) we got (we got it) it all (we got it) on uhf (we got it all)
We got it all on uhf (we got it all)
We got it all on uhf (uhf)
We got it all (we got it all) on uhf (on uhf)
We got it all on uhf
We got it all on uhf (uhf)
We got it all (we got it all) on uhf (we go it)
We got it all on uhf
We got it all on uhf
We got it all on uhf
We got it all on uhf (uhf)
We got it all on uhf (uhf)
We got it all on uhf
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life is like a blanket too short. You pull it up and your toes rebel, you yank it down and shivers meander about your shoulder; but cheerful folks manage to draw their knees up and pass a very comfortable night.
quote by Marion Howard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An old life
Snow fell in the night.
At five-fifteen I woke to a bluish
mounded softness where
the Honda was. Cat fed and coffee made,
I broomed snow off the car
and drove to the Kearsarge Mini-Mart
before Amy opened
to yank my Globe out of the bundle.
Back, I set my cup of coffee
beside Jane, still half-asleep,
murmuring stuporous
thanks in the aquamarine morning.
Then I sat in my blue chair
with blueberry bagels and strong
black coffee reading news,
the obits, the comics, and the sports.
Carrying my cup twenty feet,
I sat myself at the desk
for this day's lifelong
engagement with the one task and desire.
poem by Donald Hall
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Quicksand
I went out one night looking for the sun. I found
An open area, silver patch on the ground.
I sat there, waiting to see the cascading light
Drape all over me when the golden orb took flight.
I wanted to see it rise, but, instead, I sank.
It was slow at first. I didn't notice the Earth yank
Me down to bury me. I didn't notice the sand
Had swallowed my once sprawling legs, my arms, my hands.
When I realized how deep I was, I could not
Believe it. I struggled. I despaired. I was caught
No matter how hard I fought, so what could I do?
I relaxed myself until, fin'lly, I fell through.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Her Remniscences
Still searching in each face around me for you,
am all worn out but in vain
Looking upon for even the faintest flicker of you,
am forlorn on a murk lane.
Hard to trace in the crowd,
And truly in love am abound;
As if that's not all,
I ache for something more,
to end my my list of all,
I yearn to yank back:
the sinking sand in the hourglass,
reset it on the veteran rack.
U, the mistress of my bygone days
U, shone bright in my starlit night.
But only in nostalgic episodes:
Now it fixes me in its daze.
poem by Amrita Mallik
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Frustration
There are days of great frustration
when you want to do something, but can’t.
The more you try the worse it gets,
not giving up you keep trying repeatedly
only just to get the same reply.
The more you yank at your hair,
the balder you get,
until finally your iron will snaps
and you say that is that,
I will come back another day
and try all over again.
Hopefully I will have more success then
with fingers and anything else you can cross.
It is your only hope for survival
from the frustration that you feel.
12 November 2009
poem by David Harris
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Cliches On Lying
you got a tall tale to tell
something to yank your chair
lying there like a rug
pulling your leg
giving me this snow job
about a cock and bull story
forked tongue you've got
up my ass you blow your smoke
and to convince me
that it is raining
you pee on my leg
so hard to swallow
as you pull that wool over
your eyes
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Why Must We Pick The Flowers?
Why is it
when we see a beautiful flower
our first instinct
is to pick it?
We just want to yank it up
and take it with us
with no regard for the flower.
No guilt in the fact
that it will die within a day or so now.
Wouldn't it be nice
if when we see a flower
we just look and admire
the shape of it's curves
the scent of it's body
the sheer ability to survive
in a world like this?
Yet, rarely do we see one
without thinking of plucking it right up
and keeping it for our very own
with little or no thoughts of
how much joy and beauty
this flower could bring to others.
Is this the selfishness of humans
or do we just think that little
of flowers?
Ripopgodazippa
Ripopgodazippa, ripopgodazippa
If u flick of the pink plush, then this brother trippa
Start down at the bass then stop at the treble
Circle the midrange and up go me levels
Precious by chant is rockin the box
This cannot be foreplay cuz this be 2 hot
Up go the left thigh on me shoulder there
Up go the right and me blood pressure there
With my tongue in the cheek of the gold underwear
One yank of the teeth and they off on the chair
Chorus:
Ripopgodazippa, ripopgodazippa
If u flick of the pink plush, then this brother trippa
My girlie, how in the world did u learn this that u know?
Ripopgodazippa, etc. etc. so
This bench that I normally use 4 the weights
My girl, she lay me down and try my soul 2 take
And devilish this night she was before as Im layin there
She take it all the way down, the girl go down 2 the hair
She wouldnt move a muscle 4 what seemed like days
My heart stop beating and I died this way
Chorus
Ripopgodazippa
I lay me girl down on the fake lamb fur
Its fake but its still soft as whats between her
Lavender oil come from the bottle like I do
Whenever I think about me zippa rippin so good
All down the body and devil between the thighs
Ripop go zippa and u get a big surprise
Chorus
Ripopgodazippa
Instead of walking inside, I just knock on the door
I take a look around until she beggin me more, more, more!
When I finally come inside, Im standin perfectly still
I cant take no more! pump u then I will
I just wanna call your name, but I dont know what 2 say
Ripopgodazippa
If ure always with me
Ull never have 2 call me
Touch, touch
Hey
Chorus
Ripopgodazippa (ripopgodazippa)
Etc. etc. so
Ripopgodazippa
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An American
An American,
she thought he was,
the hair cut
and the style of clothes
gave her a clue,
at least that
and the drawn out
drawl like he was drawing
the words
from a deep well.
Her father called him a Yank,
didn’t take to him at all,
wouldn’t even speak
when he said, Hello Sir,
all kind of polite,
thoughtful and well bred,
and her mother
was always gazing at him,
taking in his walk,
his talk and remembering
years before,
some similar American
with his big blue eyes
and wide wallet
brushed her off her feet
and broke her heart
and left a bundle
in her womb,
a daughter,
wanting to go
with an American now,
history trying to repeat,
break a heart
after sweeping of her feet.
poem by Terry Collett
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The Screamy Meanies
Each night the screamy meanies come
To kick me wide awake
They spit on me and yank my hair
Poke me with three pronged stakes
They torment without mercy
Till I’m drenched in my own sweat
They think it’s rather funny
And they live under my bed
One’s name is Anorexia
One’s name is Latex Sex
One’s name is You’re a Loser and one’s
Pills That You Ingest
One’s You’re a Dirty Liar and one’s
Your Extremely Vain
One’s You Like to Play with Fire
Till it Burns you With it's Flame
One’s You Should Read Your Bible More
One’s You Are Such a Fool
The One whose names Judgmental
Thinks he’s consummately cool
They all are very vengeful
And none of them are the same
Thank God in a few hours they
Go back from whence they came
Written by Sara Fielder © 2012
poem by Sara Fielder
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Northern Rainforest Rules
Do not yank a wolverines tail,
Hike with friends, stay on the trail.
Never chase bear cubs into heather,
Do not laugh at ruffled raven feathers.
Always wear your rubber boots,
Do not wipe with cow-parsnip shoots.
Never hurl rocks from up above,
Do not kiss the devil’s club.
Remember tides go out and down,
Laugh, have fun, come back to town.
(Published for OmniBus by Juneau Arts & Humanities Council,2006)
poem by Tare njTare
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This Mick on the Next Stool
So this Mick on the next stool,
who's as serious as Yeats
but looks like Wilde,
stares at me,
with eyes crossed,
sipping Guinness through the foam.
Finally he burps and says,
'I'll bet that growth is cystic.
If it were on my nose,
I'd light this match,
hold a straight pin over it,
then prick it.
Poof! There'd be
a belch of goat cheese, sure.
But what of it?
You'd need a Q-Tip,
maybe a dropp of p'roxide.
But in two weeks
new skin would bloom
smoother than a baby's bum.
With your luck, Yank,
it would freckle.'
poem by Donal Mahoney
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The Day I Got My Finger Stuck Up My Nose
When I got my finger stuck up my nose
I went to a doctor, who said,
"Nothing like this has happened before,
We will have to chop off your head."
"It's only my finger stuck up my nose,
It's only my finger!" I said.
"I see what it is," the doctor replied,
"But we'll still have to chop off your head."
He went to the cabinet and took out an axe.
I watched with considerable dread.
"But it's only my finger stuck up my nose.
It's only a finger!" I said.
"Perhaps we can yank it out with a hook
Tied to some surgical thread.
Maybe we can try that," he replied
"Rather than chop off your head."
"I'm never going to pick it again.
I've now learned my lesson," I said.
"I won't stick my finger up my nose -
I'll stick it in my ear instead."
poem by Brian Patten
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Drop off the Key, LEE
Mister Lee has taken his talents
To the City of Brotherly Love.
He rejected both New York and Texas.
Neither Rangers nor the Yanks land his glove..
His lifetime won- loss line in Texas
suggests that he can’t take the heat.
And why go and pitch for the Yankees
When they are one team he can beat.
They say Yank fans spit on his missus
And if that is true t’was unwise.
It soured the Lees on the City-
now Cashman, that elf, sits and cries.
Joe Blanton gets seventeen million
Cliff lee’s paid about Twenty five
With Halliday Hamels and Oswalt
They’re the best pitching money can buy.
Pavano’s not really an option
And Greinke would just rock and cry
Andy Pettite yearns now to retire
Is it time to give Joba a try?
poem by John F. McCullagh
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A glimpse
a glimpse
the half opened door
some would say
a half closed door
it all depends on the
state of mind you are in
well half closed for pessismist
and half opened for optimist
half opened or half closed door
so long as it is open
and not close
a good exercise for the mind
of a story teller, novelist, a film maker
a glimpse at the half closed door
the mind is thrown open
like the kick you would give
a half opened door
so that you and pet cat could
glide through easily
the stories that start coming out
from a glimpse at the half opened door
agatha's murdered corpse lying behind
a stalker, a ghost in the corridor of the mind
from the glimpse of the half closed door
a million possibilities, ideas pouring forth
half closed door, half opened door
whichever way you may say
it is an opened door
a million stories, ideas, possibilities
knock at the door of my mind
a glimpse of the half closed, half opened door
my half closed half opened eyes
open themselves to my ever curious mind
boundless as the universe
inspired by
A Glimpse
A GLIMPSE, through an interstice caught,
Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room, around the stove,
late of a winter night-And I unremark'd seated in a corner;
Of a youth who loves me, and whom I love, silently approaching, and
seating himself near, that he may hold me by the hand;
A long while, amid the noises of coming and going-of drinking and
oath and smutty jest,
There we two, content, happy in being together, speaking little,
perhaps not a word.
Walt Whitman
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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My brother.
Don't ever lose your brother,
and always keep him near.
Never say you hate him,
tell him you're always there!
The pain of losing your brother,
is so much more...
Than any one person,
should have to endure.
The phone call that night,
that my brother was gone.
I honestly thought,
someone had it wrong.
I didn't get a chance,
to tell him I how much I care.
All I keep thinking,
is, at the end, I wasn't there.
To many people, he was many things,
but to me he was just my brother.
A childhood shared, the memories made,
memories I have with no other.
So if you have a brother,
you must hold on to him tight.
Cos one thing I've learnt is you'll never know,
When will be his last night.
poem by Stacey Ann Hendry
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Crying As An Art Form.
Mother made act of crying
An art form; she knew
Sense of tears on cheek
And leak from blue of eyes.
Father would have his way
Of bringing on the tears in
Her, making the blue eyes
Red, bruising the cheek of
Bone and flesh, making an
Art of bringing black and
Blue in such human skin.
You recall once the time
He slapped her cheek with
A back of hand for making
Remark in jest: you look like
A Yank with that camera held
So. You never could divine how
Love could have altered form
And made a mockery of care
And concern and deepest sense
Of being well and other’s need
Of being needed here and now.
You think that Father lost it if
He had it ever at all. Some how.
poem by Terry Collett
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You Run Your Mouth
Who doubt say, who doubt when i say, who doubt...
You cats keep beetin' up your chops
I had turn you over to the cops
I dig this spiel i'm going way on your gate
Don't cop your broom pop or buddy or mate
You run your mouth and i'll run my business brother
You run your mouth and i'll run my business brother
You tell everybody i'm busted
You talk so much you got me disgusted
You run your mouth and i'll run my business brother
Yeh, you run your mouth and i'll run my business brother
You run your mouth and i'll run my business brother
You start up telling me you're my pal
End up telling how to handle my gal
You run your mouth and i'll run my business brother
You run your juicy mouth and i'll run my business brother
You run your juicy mouth and i'll run my business brother
You're always telling me what to do
Saying "i wouldn't do that if i was you"
You run your mouth and i'll run my business brother
You clamp your liver lips and i'll run my business brother
Just clamp your liver lips and i'll run my business brother
If i follows your advice on how to make dough
I'd been in the jailhouse long ago
You run your mouth and i'll run my business brother
Yeh, you run your juicy mouth and i'll run my business brother
Just you run your mouth and i'll run my business brother
You tell everybody i'm busted
You talk so much you got me disgusted
You run your mouth and i'll run my business brother
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pitch Black
You awake from a nightmare
and find the room pitch black
You notice your not on a bed
instead, a cold slab of concrete
Where am I you think
you try to move your legs
But their chained to the concrete
you begin to panic
Outside, you hear children laughing
you think of your own, and start to cry
You hear footsteps pounding up stairs
you yank the chain, hoping it would break
Something hard hits what could be a door
you stop yanking the chain to listen
You hear two voices behind the assumed door, Males
their planning something but you cant understand
Your hear a squeak, sounds like a door knob
you wait and see a line of light
A dark figure stands in the light
but his shadow blocks his face
Your heart beats faster, the room gets hotter
you feel your hands about to shake
He mumbles something as he drags in an unkown figure
the light turns on, and you see what it is
poem by Cree Stewart
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