En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Whee

It's all downhill
from here
I've ditched
the hand basket
for a shopping trolley
for a fast track
to hell.

poem by Vince Gullaci
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shopping

Were buying and selling your history
How we go about it is no mystery
We check it with the city, then change the law
Are you looking forward?
Now you want some more
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Its easy when you got all the information
Inside help, no investigation
(no investigation, investigation)
No questions in the house, no give and take
Theres a big bang in the city
Were all on the make
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Our gain is your loss, thats the price you pay
I heard it in the house of commons: everythings for sale
Were shopping
Were shopping
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Ah ah ah, ah ah ah, ah ah ah, ah ah
Ah ah ah, ah ah ah, ah ah ah, ah ah
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
Were s-h-o-pp-i-n-g, were shopping
(were shopping
Were shopping
Were shopping
Were shopping
Were shopping)

song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Friday Night Shopping

I went to do the shopping at the Supermarket Store
Couldn't find a trolley - so hunted round some more:
I dashed around the car park searching every trolley bay
And at last, with the one with the wonky wheel, I was on my way!
Inevitably, I met someone I'd not seen for a while
So we parked our trolleys in the middle of the aisle
Just to make shopping that bit harder for everybody else
Isn't it a pain when everyone just thinks of self/
We had a conversation about this and that
I was really pleased to see her and enjoyed our chat.
Eventually I reached the checkouts where the fun begins'
To search for the "right queue" and start unloading all my tins.
In front of me was a lady, quite mature.
She'd be quick, I was absolutely sure.
Then her cash could not be found amongst papers and all kinds of dockets
In one of those wretched handbags with about fifteen pockets.
I was glad to leave that store - I'd finished work at five - got home at seven
Sat down with a cuppa' which was pure magic, just sheer heaven!

poem by Jackie Holland
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Shopping Trolley Man

Every day for eight hours or maybe more
He walks up and down through the car park by the big food store
On the lookout for unreturned shopping trolleys for each one he returns a dollar is his pay
The most he might earn would be thirty dollars a day.

An ageing man of three score and ten maybe
By the big food store he is one you always see
To supplement his pension the unreturned trolleys he takes back
Despite his age in the will to work he does not lack.

His given name i do believe is Stan
But all of the locals know him as 'the shopping trolley man'
Tall and slightly stooped with gray beard and silver hair
Out of what he does he will never become a millionaire.

For the effort he puts in so little is his gain
He is there every day in sunshine or in rain
Yet one might say he's a hardy old boy
And what he does he does seem to enjoy.

To his toilsome task he remains ever true
And credit him since credit he is due
For each unreturned trolley he returns a dollar he is paid
Than this there's easier money by far to be made.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Shopping Trolley

I am a shopping trolley.
I am hooked on pushers
They strip the shelves like locusts.

Bikers zoom me round with granite fists
Pensioners slump over me like caterpillars
Babies are dumped in me like pupae
I whizz through plastic jungles of bananas
To the surprisingly friendly cackle of plastic hens

I am a shopping trolley I am heavily into Zen.
I am a metal meditator
One day I may levitate
Over the drinks aisle
Frightening the alkies.

I am a water carrier,
This bottle on my spars
Contains the following:
(Please read before swallowing)
Calcium quinine magnesium
Chloride sodium potassium
Sulphate nitrate
If you've a dicky prostate
Avoid this mineral water at all costs.
It harbours aluminium and iron
The ideal drink for
Thirsty horse shoes
Parched park railings
Dehydrated nests of non-stick pans

poem by Sheena Blackhall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Longing For Childhood

I saw an elderly man in the supermarket
Moving fast and smoothly, his aim was to get to the end of the aisle
I took a closer look, he had such style
He rode that trolley with such glee
Everyone stood back to see
I wondered what was going through his head
Maybe next moment he was being put to bed
To reminisce of days long gone
Must be as sweet as a good song
As he grins from ear to ear
And the shoppers all clap and cheer
I hoped that trolley could stand the strain
A he didn't look as if he could survive any pain.

poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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Five finger discount

While we were shopping, you tried to steal a bracelet that was worth a lot.
But before you could get out of the store, you got caught.
They thought I was an accessory so they prosecuted me as well.
I'm mad because you got me arrested so you can go to hell.

This incident has caused me a great deal of grief.
My girlfriend dumped me because she thinks I'm a thief.
You may not realize it but stealing is a sin.
It will be a cold day in hell when I go shopping with you again.

poem by Randy Johnson
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An Apple-Gathering

I plucked pink blossoms from mine apple tree
And wore them all that evening in my hair:
Then in due season when I went to see
I found no apples there.
With dangling basket all along the grass
As I had come I went the selfsame track:
My neighbours mocked me while they saw me pass
So empty-handed back.

Lilian and Lilias smiled in trudging by,
Their heaped-up basket teazed me like a jeer;
Sweet-voiced they sang beneath the sunset sky,
Their mother's home was near.

Plump Gertrude passed me with her basket full,
A stronger hand than hers helped it along;
A voice talked with her thro' the shadows cool
More sweet to me than song.

Ah Willie, Willie, was my love less worth
Than apples with their green leaves piled above?
I counted rosiest apples on the earth
Of far less worth than love.

So once it was with me you stooped to talk
Laughing and listening in this very lane:
To think that by this way we used to walk
We shall not walk again!

I let my neighbours pass me, ones and twos
And groups; the latest said the night grew chill,
And hastened: but I loitered, while the dews
Fell fast I loitered still.

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Amor Mundi

'Oh, where are you going with your love-locks flowing
On the west wind blowing along this valley track?'
'The downhill path is easy, come with me an' it please ye,
We shall escape the uphill by never turning back.'

So they two went together in glowing August weather,
The honey-breathing heather lay to their left and right;
And dear she was to doat on, her swift feet seemed to float on
The air like soft twin pigeons too sportive to alight.

'Oh, what is that in heaven where grey cloud-flakes are seven,
Where blackest clouds hang riven just at the rainy skirt?'
'Oh, that's a meteor sent us, a message dumb, portentous,—
An undeciphered solemn signal of help or hurt.'

'Oh, what is that glides quickly where velvet flowers grow thickly,
Their scent comes rich and sickly?'—'A scaled and hooded worm.'
'Oh, what's that in the hollow, so pale I quake to follow?'
'Oh, that's a thin dead body which waits th' eternal term.'

'Turn again, O my sweetest,—turn again, false and fleetest:
This way whereof thou weetest I fear is hell's own track.'
'Nay, too steep for hill-mounting,—nay, too late for cost-counting:
This downhill path is easy, but there's no turning back.'

poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Downhill Stuff

This song appears on two albums, and was first released on the john denver album, and has also been released on the country classics album.
Blue river blues
Id rather be outside
Here I am inside
Watching it rain
Blue river blues
Id rather be somewhere
Here I am nowhere
Watching it rain
Some people like that downhill stuff
They like it fast and breezy
Some people walk on the other side
They like it slow and easy
Some people run on a mountain trail
Some like it wild and rough
Some like to fly and some like to sail
Some like the downhill stuff
Theres work in what we practice
Work in the things we say
Sometime we work just to try to make a livin
Or were workin just to make it pay
Sometimes were tryin to work our will
But that wont work anyway
I only know that Im workin still
Just to get another chance to play
Some people like that downhill stuff
They like it fast and breezy
Some people walk on the other side
They like it slow and easy
Some people run on a mountain trail
Some like it wild and rough
Some like to fly and some like to sail
Some like the downhill stuff
Keep a movin in a forward direction
Like a river rollin down to the sea
If you wanna make different selection
Honey let yourself go with gravity
Oh everybodys lookin for heaven
Everybodys lookin for hope
Everybody lookin for higher and higher
But nobody wants to be lookin alone
Everybodys tryin to get down to it
Everybodys tryin to sing
Whatever it is were all gonna do it
But whatever we do
We gotta do our own thing
Some people like that downhill stuff
They like it fast and breezy
Some people walk on the other side
They like it slow and easy
Some people run on a mountain trail
Some like it wild and rough
Some like to fly and some like to sail
Some like the downhill stuff
Words and music by john denver

song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bologna

[parody of my sharona by the knack]
Goin to the market now, market now.
Im the citys biggest bologna buyer.
Walkin down the shopping aisle, shopping aisle,
Filling up my basket with oscar meyer.
Never gonna stop, eat it up,
Such a tasty snack.
I always eat too much, and throw up,
But Ill soon be back
For my-my-my-y-y woo!
M-m-m-m-m-m-m-my-my-my-y-y woo!
M-m-m-my bologna.
M-m-m-my bologna.
M-m-m-my bologna.
M-m-m-my bologna!

song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Skateboard

Whoa whoa whoa mama
Here I go whoa again
Too fast on the downhill
Faster than I can run
If miles turned to inches
You know that man would roll
All the way around the world tonight
Look at him go
No jumping off the ride
At 30 miles per hour
Iron brains and ball bearings
Give him the power
Whoa whoa take a look
Whoa whoa look at that man
Whoa whoa you can see it
That man is free
Whoa whoa whoa mama
Here I go whoa again
Too fast on the downhill
Faster than I can roll
You got to see him to beleive him
Cant you hear em callin
You got to hear him, theres no fear
In that man
Cant you hear em callin
Hes like a mean molten gold
Cant you hear em callin
Lord, hes got to have his story told
Cant you fear youre fallin
Tounge tip slipn inand out like a lizard
Cant you fear youre fallin
Ah, good god, that mana a damn wizard
Cant you hear em callin
Black hair snapn like a bull whip in the air
Cant you feel youre fallin
Red rolln wheels runn for the downhill
Dare me!

song performed by by Jefferson Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Town Types No.2 - Red Matt

He gleaned all the gossip and he gathered all the news,
Mad Matt, the carrier, delivering the grub;
He knew the trooper's tattle and he knew the parson's views,
The gossip at the station-yard, the gossip at the pub.
That high-pitched voice of his, the loudest voice in town,
That shrewd blue eye of his, with humor all a-gleam -
Old Red Matt, with his cabbage-tree hat,
His trolley, and his two-horse team.

Driving down the main street a-clatter with his load,
The great red beard of him blowing out behind:
'Hear about that accident's mornin' up the road?
Hear about the gold rush at Joe Scott's find?
Warmish sort o' day we got; thirsty weather this.
Got a bag o' spuds for you - Dang! Fergot the cream!'
Says old Red Matt with his cabbage-tree hat,
And his trolley, and his two-horse team.

Mad Matt, the carrier, standing at the bar:
'Well here's a go, boys. Got to get along
Seven pints I've had today and still to travel far.
Drink fast and drive fast, yeh can't go wrong.
Fill 'em up again, boss, ans hove it on the slate.
Half-a-ton aboard today - just tipped the beam,'
Says old red Matt with the cabbage-tree hat,
And his trolley, and his two-horse team.

Sudden were his wild ways, sudden, too, his end.
Jumped to grab a bolting team with kiddie sin the trap;
And they picked up Mad Matt, everybody's friend,
Silent now and broken; and they said, 'Brave chap.
Wild an' all,' they said of him, 'always was a white man.'
And they laid him, with a blessing, where his old mates dream,
Saying, 'So long, Matt, with your cabbage-tree hat,
And your trolley, and your two-horse team.'

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All Downhill From Here

Your hiding somthing cause
Its burning through your eyes
I try to get it out
But all i hear from you are lies
And I can tell you're going through the motions
Figured you were acting out your part
Once again we're playing off emotion
Which one of us will burn untill the end
Catalyst you insist to pull me down
You contradict the fact that you
Still want me around
And its all downhill from here
And its all downhill from here
Your good intentions
Slowly turn to bitterness
Reoccuring episodes
With each and every kiss
And I can tell you're going through the motions
Figured you were acting out your part
Once again we're playing off emotion
Which one of us will burn untill the end
Catalyst you insist to pull me down
You contradict the fact that you
Still want me around
And its all downhill from here
And its all downhill from here
And I cant believe you pulled it off again
Or notice till it all sets in
You'll deny it till
You're at your bitter end
And I can tell you're going through the motions
Figured you were acting out your part
Once again we're playing off emotion
Which one of us will burn untill the end
Catalyst you insist to pull me down
You contradict the fact that you
Still want me around
And its all downhill from here
And its all downhill from here
(then you keep pulling me down)
Pulling me down (pulling me down)
You contradict the fact that you
Still want me around
And its all downhill from here
And its all downhill from here

song performed by by New Found Glory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I started off at the high level, in the slick magazines, but they didn't use my name, they used house names. Anyway, then I went downhill to the pulps, then downhill further to the comics.

quote by Mickey Spillane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Hell

To hell with the house work
To hell with the grocery shopping
To hell with the home work
It is New Years Day,
A good excuse to party all night
It is junk food day all right

poem by Aldo Kraas
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Shopping for Yesterday

Busy crowds, lonely hearts, broken dreams
Shopping for yesterday.
Visiting the shared moments,
In all the familiar places
When shopping for yesterday.

We are all prisoners of the past
When shopping for yesterday
Knee deep in our loneliness
Surrounded by the crowd
We’re shopping for yesterday.

Pictures and memories
Half-forgotten words
Time slipping away
From the windmills of my mind
When shopping for yesterday.

poem by Adrian Wait
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Shopping Bags

I hate these shopping bags
They weigh my body down
They keep me on the beaten track
They break every bone in my back
To a doctor's note i must defer
My life, I do concur
For what may be must be
And what may not be cannot see
I'll throw away my shopping bags
And see how far you throw me
To Guava, Java, Bali, Mali
To study, to lecture, to teach, to hurt
To suckle the teat of wisdom that does not exist
But whatever the sucklers say
The revolution has begun
It is within our hearts and minds
Because if one human, not a man nor a woman
Can preach like John Paul to mass
Like Darwin to a class
Like Kennedy to a nation
Like King for a tiny piece of salvation
Then we can all dropp our shopping bags

poem by Matt Pocock
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From The Ballrooms

Awakened into the orbit where they are
Without voices—somewhere shouting mutedly
To the remaining coyotes who have no dinner dates:
The circus and the fireworks tents
Are taken down and someone else writes a better
Novel and dreams of running away—
Ogled by truckers in the shopping malls of their
Heirlooms—as the Indians sleep downhill from
The flea markets of their gas stations—
And their dreams have no stanzas—maybe it is
Because they fought too long, and that they couldn't
Understand any of their numbers:
When they saw the goldfish in the wishing wells of
Their shopping malls, they just pissed on them—
And did not wait for the rain to leave to step outside:
They became too drunkardly for their girlfriends
Who left them for boys who could almost always be
Defined by their occupations—firefighters and werewolves,
As the lights fell away from the cities at the edge of
The world that no one cared about—far away from
The ballrooms in which almost anyone could become famous.

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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For a Picture of St. Dorothea

I bear a basket lined with grass;
I am so light, I am so fair,
That men must wonder as I pass
And at the basket that I bear,
Where in a newly-drawn green litter
Sweet flowers I carry,—sweets for bitter.

Lilies I shew you, lilies none,
None in Caesar’s gardens blow,—
And a quince in hand,—not one
Is set upon your boughs below;
Not set, because their buds not spring;
Spring not, ’cause world is wintering.

But these were found in the East and South
Where Winter is the clime forgot.—
The dewdrop on the larkspur’s mouth
O should it then be quench`d not?
In starry water-meads they drew
These drops: which be they? stars or dew?

Had she a quince in hand? Yet gaze:
Rather it is the sizing moon.
Lo, linkèd heavens with milky ways!
That was her larkspur row.—So soon?
Sphered so fast, sweet soul?—We see
Nor fruit, nor flowers, nor Dorothy.

poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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The Shopping Cart Lady

She walks towards me, pushing everything she owns
In a shopping cart with wobbly wheels
Her entire life stuffed into a four wheeled basket
The well dressed ignore her, she doesn't exist

And even though she's not asking for money
I give her all of my change, a dollar or more
Buy yourself something to eat I tell her
I will, she smiles with missing teeth

I see her, sometimes more than once a day
And I wonder what brought her to this
I doubt I'd be able to survive like her
If her misfortune also became mine

Sometimes when I see her I want to ask
What happened that you ended up this way?
I don't and not just because of the fear
That the same thing could happen to me

So I just mind my own business
And give her some money when I can
Knowing that one day she will disaappear
Her shopping cart taken over by another

Homeless, she still smiles and laughs
Never have I seen her sad or crying
Does she save her tears for midnight
When nobody would be there to see

poem by Harry J. Couchon Jr
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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