As
As the blacktop blisters and crusts,
As the skyscrapers abrade the ground,
As the automobiles mold in the morning dew,
As the airplanes fold like peeled tin foil in a garbage can,
As the waters blacken and evaporate to osmose from the filth,
As the air chokes on itself to breathe,
As the plants gasp for the sun that should peak through polluted clouds,
As the animals become wide-eyed and mouthed and chested,
As the people unpopulate the crowded elevators that bring them down
Into the apartment complex of oblivion,
Will we know why?
poem by Tim Stensloff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Airplan
Airplanes, airplanes fly through the sky with amazing speeds they fly, look out the window
At little world below it's amazing.Airplanes, airplanes look at them fly, they fly through
They clouds and wind. Some fly to London and some to war carrying survival supplies for
Their country. Some may die so others will survive.
Airplanes, airplanes aren't they amazing they help us every day and night.
Airplanes, airplanes so bird like in their manner.
poem by Elizabeth Wheaton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I thought that automobiles were going to have mufflers and go fast and airplanes were going to fly fast.
quote by Jack Vance
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sarah Cynthia Slyvia Stout Would Not Take The Garbage Out
Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout
Would not take the garbage out!
She'd scour the pots and scrape the pans,
Candy the yams and spice the hams,
And though her daddy would scream and shout,
She simply would not take the garbage out.
And so it piled up to the ceilings:
Coffee grounds, potato peelings,
Brown Bananas, rotten peas,
Chunks of sour cottage cheese.
It filled the can, it covered the floor,
It cracked the window and blocked the door
With bacon rinds and chicken bones,
Drippy ends of ice cream cones,
Prune pits, peach pits, orange peel,
Gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal,
Pizza crusts and withered greens,
Soggy beans and tangerines,
Crusts of black burned buttered toast,
Grisly bits of beefy roasts...
The garbage rolled down the hall,
It raised the roof, it broke the wall...
Greasy napkins, cookie crumbs,
Globs of gooey bubble gum,
Cellophane from green baloney,
Rubbery blubbery macaroni,
Peanut butter, caked and dry,
Curdled milk and crusts of pie,
Moldy melons, dried-up mustard,
Eggshells mixed with lemon custard,
Cold french fries and rancid meat,
Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat.
At last the garbage reached so high
That finally it touched the sky.
And all the neighbors moved away,
And none of her friends would come to play.
And finally Sarah Cynthia Slylvia Stout said,
'Ok, I'll take the garbage out!'
But then, of course, it was too late...
The garbage reached across the state,
From New York to the Golden Gate.
And there, in the garbage she did hate,
Poor Sarah met an awful fate,
That I cannot right now relate
Because the hour is much too late.
But children, remember Sarah Stout
And always take the garbage out!
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blacktop
Your self control might be a muscle spasm
New direction isnt everlasting though
Grope for straws youve got to plan
This week
Then the crutch dissolves
When she walks too sweet
Ration of blacktop on the slope of
Nowhere
Came out to greet the unresponsive
Stare
Turn green with envy over something
You missed
You didnt know what when you
Fell down in it
Walk on top, you run beneath
The blacktop spreads
The blacktop spreads
song performed by by Helmet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Metal Foil
Foil is a night and day, like metal of the hour,
It is your pain and design, a movie is made.
My foil is green and blue, but what of you?
The real guns massaged my skull with their hard action
And onto a danger my danger went, crossing borders
And perceiving dreams of a different kind.
Foil is an aluminium tool, and a grave reason for living;
The cooks of tomorrow shall undergo changes,
And my lorry of food is under foil, the foil of real direction,
The reasoning of man is such that force can never comprehend.
Concerns do decide my foil and food, the ultimate in cooking.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Progress (a concrete jungle)
Cloudy green
Lush Forest, made
of the stuff
dreams are made of,
a jungle of
culture and
heritage-
now a
city.
Dull grey
buildings, wailing
cries of bustling
cars in the
distance.
Skyscrapers, Skyscrapers
scrape
the
sky.
and the ever-
progressing society
labels it a
Jungle. All
these trucks
and bulldozers,
all part of
the immutable
progression of
Time,
of the long
and dreary
process we call
Development.
And
Skyscrapers, Skyscrapers
they
scrape
the
sky.
poem by Ballerina With Fins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two-Lane Blacktop
We've been goin', I'v never been at ease
I met a gyspie girl and took her on the track
The kinda girl walk
The driver don't talk
20 bucks between them just to keep them alive
Drivin'
Drivin'
Drivin'
Blacktop rollin'
Were goin', goin' to Amrillo
A zero to a sixty, in a 7.5
A model and a bagel steels California
A glass of a beer, a scot of a rat
Come on!
Drivin'
Come on!
Drivin'
Come on!
Drivin'
Come on!
Drivin'
Come on!
Drivin'
Come on!
Drivin'
Blacktop rollin'
Come on baby, I ain't crazy
Come on baby, pick me up, pick me up!
Come on baby, do me baby
Come on baby, hook it up, hook it up!
Come on!
Come on!
Come on!
Come on!
Drivin'
Come on!
Drivin'
Come on!
Drivin'
Blacktop rollin'
Where ya goin', an airport road
A clean machine, a real home girl
Baracuda, '68
Nothing there, she can wait
Come on!
Drivin'
Come on!
Drivin'
Come on!
Drivin'
Come on!
Drivin'
Come on!
Drivin'
Come on!
Drivin'
Blacktop rollin'
Come on baby, I ain't crazy
Come on baby, pick me up, pick me up!
Come on baby, do me baby
Come on baby, hook it up, hook it up!
Come on!
Come on!
Come on!
Come on!
Drivin'
Come on!
Drivin'
Come on!
Drivin'
Blacktop rollin'
song performed by by Rob Zombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grandpa Danie Brand
When at sixteen
he had to survive in the field
many times he was hungry
he was delivered to the sun,
the wind and rain
and at times were half frozen,
but he took shots at Englishmen
(who burned their farm to the ground)
past when his gun barrel
were glowing white-hot
and burnt blisters on his hands
and those blisters
became open wounds
as he kept firing
and as a child
I saw those scars
and he was a man
who served God
and gave his tithe
and took good care of his workers,
but he could not tolerate an Englishman.
Still there’s something of him in me
to stand against
the oppression of my people
until it ends.
[Reference: Second Anglo-Boer war.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Where The Blacktop Ends
Gonna kick off my shoes
And run in bare feet
Where the grass and the dirt and the gravel all meet
Goin' back to the well gonna visit old friends
And feed my soul where the blacktop ends
I'm lookin' down the barrel of Friday night
Ridin' on a river of freeway lights
Goodbye city I'm country bound
'Til Monday rolls around
Gonna kick off my shoes
And run in bare feet
Where the grass and the dirt and the gravel all meet
Goin' back to the well gonna visit old friends
And feed my soul where the blacktop ends
Workin' in the grind is an uphill road
Punchin' that clock and carryin' that load
I bust it all week and then I'm free
The weekend belongs to me
Gonna kick off my shoes
And run in bare feet
Where the grass and the dirt and the gravel all meet
Goin' back to the well gonna visit old friends
And feed my soul where the blacktop ends
Give me some fresh air give me that farm
Give me some time with you in my arms
Far away from the hustle and the pressure and the noise
Gonna kick off my shoes
And run in bare feet
Where the grass and the dirt and the gravel all meet
Goin' back to the well gonna visit old friends
And feed my soul, you betcha
Gonna kick off my shoes
And run in bare feet
Where the grass and the dirt and the gravel all meet
Goin' back to the well gonna visit old friends
And feed my soul where the blacktop ends
Where the blacktop ends
Where the blacktop ends
Where the blacktop ends
song performed by by Keith Urban
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If you put garbage in a computer nothing comes out but garbage. But this garbage, having passed through a very expensive machine, is somehow ennobled and none dare criticize it.
quote by Rory Bremner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Blacktop Romance
Oh no,
I've gotta tell you how I feel right now,
Kept it bottled up for so long,
Gotta tell you before I go insane,
Can't go to my room and cry now!
You're right infront of me staring into my eyes,
I'm gazing back cos I don't know what to say
I just can't say it to you,
I need to get this shit off my chest,
All I need to say is 'I love you' and thats done,
But it's all puppy love in this blacktop romance
Oh no,
I've just gotta tell you but I acn't,
You'll only say no so what's the point?
I'll cry with the geeks and dive into darkness,
Where the vampires can't hurt us,
I'll build your crypt where we can stay,
Together forever in each others arms
I just can't say it to you,
I need to get this shit off my chest,
All I need to say is 'I love you' and thats done,
But it's all puppy love in this blacktop romance
Oh no,
I'm falling down again, down to my grave,
Blood rains down on my face as I cry,
But I keep singing the words 'I love you',
That keeps me alive in this cruel world we live,
The notion that you might say yes and love me,
We'll cover our necks and live the rest of our lives together
I just can't say it to you,
I need to get this shit off my chest,
All I need to say is 'I love you' and thats done,
But it's all puppy love in this blacktop romance
Oh no,
I said it to your face finally,
Waiting for you to say no and slap me,
But you just stand there gazing into my eyes,
Heaven's gazing on our moment together,
Hoping for a good answer whatever it may be,
And you said those four magic words 'I love you too'
I just can't say it too you but I did,
I really needed to get this shit off my chest,
I said 'I love you' and you said 'I love you too'
So it aint just puppy love in this blacktop romance
poem by Callum Byrne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Swans
Two swans sit alone on a lake
Looking so peaceful,
Poised on the tranquil waters.
The air around them is calm,
A gentle breeze wafting,
Gliding through their white feathers.
They are caressed by the pine scents
And the delicate balance
Of their surroundings.
The sky above is blue,
Almost cloudless and clear,
But a few pillows float overhead.
The trees stand tall beside the lake,
Watching the swans
Swim on the surface.
They swim majestically,
Beautifully,
In the recreational park.
Under their webbed feet,
Abandoned garbage sifts—
The collected lost trinkets of lazy people.
Twenty feet from the lake,
There is a parking lot
Filled with automobiles
With rust crusting on the hood
And near the synthetic rubber tires.
The people that own the cars
Are feeding the geese bleached white Wonder bread.
They leave their Coke bottles
And Doritos bags on the ground,
Ready to be carried away by the wind.
The swans watch the people.
Later, one of them
Will stick its neck
Into the plastic hole
Of a Coke bottle container
And choke
And choke
And choke
And choke.
It will die.
The other swan will watch,
Helpless and screaming,
Unable to do anything.
Some people will watch,
In awe,
Some excited.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Foil
Foil is like a herb of metallic strength,
It cries like a butter of oil with food,
As tears of the cry, as tears of the cry.
Foil is a tin, and small are causes that
Decide a tiny whim, a silent crying -
Food is believable, food has contentment.
Foil has many strokes of heat,
On the tearing action I agree to be soft,
So authors please listen to the weaning.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Future is Clouded
The Future is clouded
What does it hold?
The future is shrouded
But the future is my mold
But is the future really my mold?
I have realized though, in this life
That everything I do has repercussions 10 fold
And that life must have some Strife
I do not wish to have complete control
There needs to be some surprise
If it didn’t life would have a whole
Life without surprise, all else dies
But maybe that is why everything dies
So we all will appreciate life
So we appreciate the surprise
Of being alive
So we realize life is worth living and that life is rife
With what is needed to survive
poem by Aaron Burr
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Testify
Come a little closer it's a feeling that I can't deny
I was weak, but I never thought I'd speak about the darker side
Is that a ten? I could repent on the side of the road
But, I kept on going yeah I headed for another load
I get up from the ground in the middle of the morning
Up from the ground in the middle of the evening
Up from the ground in the middle of the night
Oh, I testify
I was laid upon the grave by a preacher's hand I cannot lie
And, I forsake many vows I made to be with you tonight
Could you be the salvation cause I never felt like this before
And, could you lend me your hand because I'm falling back on the floor
I get up from the ground in the middle of the morning
Up from the ground in the middle of the evening
Up from the ground in the middle of the night
Oh, I testify
On a road outside of nowhere, in the middle of the night
Well I guess I hit rock bottom and the dawn was not in sight
And a Tempest made of fire, onset the sky aglow
And a sweet young thing called out my name
And this is how it goes, she says...
Choir:
"Go boy, can you hear them?
Are you falling through the cracks in your eyes?"
"Go boy, can you hear them?
Are you falling through the cracks in your eyes?"
"Go boy, can you hear them?
Are you falling through the cracks in your eyes?"
Meatloaf: And I got down on my knees
Choir :"Go boy, can you hear them?
Are you falling through the cracks in your eyes?"
"Go boy, can you hear them?
Are you falling through the cracks in your eyes?"
Meatloaf (over the top of the choirs last two repititions):
I get up from the ground in the middle of the morning
Up from the ground in the middle of the evening
Up from the ground and I'm falling back down
Up from the ground and I testify
I get up from the ground in the middle of the morning
Up from the ground in the middle of the evening
Up from the ground and I'm falling back down
Up from the ground and I testify
Meatloaf & Choir:
Up from the ground in the middle of the morning
Up from the ground in the middle of the evening
Up from the ground and I'm falling back down
Up from the ground and I testify
Up from the ground in the middle of the morning
Up from the ground in the middle of the evening
Up from the ground and I'm falling back down
Up from the ground and I testify
Meatloaf:
Every cut that heals reveals a scar that you can never hope to hide
All the pain that you restrain keeps building up deep inside
If you think you're above it then it's you my friend that I implore
You've got to talk before you run
See the night before the dawn
Before you pull yourself off the floor
I get up from the ground in the middle of the morning
Up from the ground in the middle of the evening
Up from the ground in the middle of the night
Oh, I testify
Choir Singer: Up from the ground yeah, I testify
Meatloaf & Choir:
Up from the ground in the middle of the morning
Up from the ground in the middle of the evening
Up from the ground and I'm falling back down
Up from the ground and I testify
Up from the ground in the middle of the morning
Up from the ground in the middle of the evening
Up from the ground in the middle of the night
Oh, I testify
Up from the ground in the middle of the morning
Up from the ground in the middle of the evening
Up from the ground in the middle of the night
Oh, I testify
Up from the ground in the middle of the morning
Up from the ground in the middle of the evening
Up from the ground in the middle of the night
Oh, I testify
song performed by by Meat Loaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Falcons
A sunny morning
Two falcons are in the sky
Gliding like airplanes!
poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Y... Garbage Man
Become a garbage man
Every day, just for a minute
Search for some litter
Pick up some garbage
Where ever you can
Don't stoop down.
Not good for the back
Just sit on your heels
Stay squatted and look up
It gives you a special perspective
Pick up a hand full
Walk to the bin
Not the nearest
The walking is exercise
Good for your body
So, become a garbage man
It can give you perspective
It is good for your body
It is good for the world
Just a hand full per day.
-
Note:
Garbage men really deserve ou full respect.
I got the idea to write this piece when I was picking up a handful of garbage from the beach. I thought if there more people picking up garbage than people throwing garbage, littering would no longer be a problem.
I hope in this poem there is nothing disrespectful of garbage men. They really do a great job en deserve our respect as much as doctors and lawyers deserve our respect (as indicated in the comments by unwritten soul below)
poem by Aufie Zophy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poor Man's Pig
Already fallen plum-bloom stars the green
And apple-boughs as knarred as old toads' backs
Wear their small roses ere a rose is seen;
The building thrush watches old Job who stacks
The bright-peeled osiers on the sunny fence,
The pent sow grunts to hear him stumping by,
And tries to push the bolt and scamper thence,
But her ringed snout still keeps her to the sty.
Then out he lets her run; away she snorts
In bundling gallop for the cottage door,
With hungry hubbub begging crusts and orts,
Then like the whirlwind bumping round once more;
Nuzzling the dog, making the pullets run,
And sulky as a child when her play's done.
poem by Edmund Blunden
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don't Drop Your Garbage
Don't dropp your garbage!
Get away...
And when you step,
Kiss the wind!
Don't dropp your garbage!
Get away,
And step!
Don't dropp your garbage!
Get away...
And when you step,
Kiss the wind!
Don't dropp your garbage!
Get away,
And step!
Don't dropp your garbage at my front door.
Get to steppin' take it back.
No one seeks to hear your preaching.
Or your point of view described while you teach'.
With self righteous sighs.
Too many sitting on the edge are jumpy.
And twice as many want to fight.
Don't dropp your garbage.
Get from my door and get to steppin'.
Don't want to regret what I do.
I wish to keep that evil sleepin'.
Don't wake it up,
I ask of you!
Don't dropp your garbage at my front door.
Get to steppin' take it back.
No one seeks to hear your preaching.
Or your point of view described while you 'teach'.
With your self righteous sighs.
Too many sitting with an edge are jumpy.
And twice as many look to fight.
Don't dropp your garbage!
Get away...
And when you step,
Kiss the wind!
Don't dropp your garbage!
Get away,
And step!
Don't dropp your garbage!
I'd like to keep myself polite.
Get away!
I don't want to get those demons screaming.
Or stir a yelling to disturb my peaceful night.
Don't dropp your garbage!
Get away...
And when you step,
Kiss the wind!
Don't dropp your garbage!
Get away,
And step!
Don't dropp your garbage!
Get away...
And when you step,
Kiss the wind!
Don't dropp your garbage!
Get away,
And step!
Don't dropp your garbage!
Get away,
And step!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Here's a good thing to do if you go to a party and you don't know anybody First, take out the garbage. Then go around and collect any extra garbage that people might have, like a crumpled-up napkin, and take that out too. Pretty soon people will want to meet the busy garbage guy.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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