Apology
Why do I write today?
The beauty of
the terrible faces
of our nonentites
stirs me to it:
colored women
day workers—
old and experienced—
returning home at dusk
in cast off clothing
faces like
old Florentine oak.
Also
the set pieces
of your faces stir me—
leading citizens—
but not
in the same way.
poem by William Carlos Williams
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Related quotes
Man Of 1,000 Faces
I walk the streets by day, I never know quite what to say
It doesnt matter anyway
Man of a 1000 faces, man of a 1000 faces, man of a 1000 faces, whos the man
For years Ive lived inside my dreams
Somehow Ive made them real, it seems
I made my own rules, because I am a
Man of a 1000 faces, man of a 1000 faces, man of a 1000 faces, whos the man
I can put on any face, you all know me, but its no disgrace
The king of night, he understands
Man of a 1000 faces, man of a 1000 faces, man of a 1000 faces, whos the man
Whos the man of a 1000 faces, whos the man of a 1000 faces
Whos the man of a 1000 faces, whos the man
Im the man, Im the man, Im the man, Im the man
Im the man of a 1000 faces, Im the man of a 1000 faces
Im the man of a 1000 faces, Im the man
Im the man, Im the man, Im the man, Im the man (to fade)
song performed by by Kiss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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See All Her Faces
(jim stratton / alexander ryan)
Here she comes
Here she comes
Ribbons flying from her half-forgotten hair
Look at her run
See what the world and love have done
See all her faces
See all her faces
Look in my eyes
That she is me
I cant disguise
See all her faces
Ah, ha, see all her faces
Im looking for someone
Of the gentle kind
Knowing that looks can lie
Looking for someone
Is he there to find?
Or should I run on by, ah, ha
Here she comes
Here she comes
Shadows sadly chasing
Every step she takes
Look at her now
She needs love so much more somehow
See all her faces
See all her faces
Look at my life
The wasted years
Each a knife
See all her faces, ah-ha
See all her faces
Waiting for someone
Who will set me free
Passing the time too fast
Waiting for someone
Is that where hell be?
Or should I run right past? , hmm
There she goes
There she goes
Somehow making me and all her faces sad, oh, oh
Ba, da, ba, da, ba, da, ba, da......
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Faces
Key:-a - anita r - ray
A: look around you
What do those faces tell you?
R: faces, joy and pain
A: faces
All around different faces I see
Some are happy, some in misery
They express joy and pain
No two faces are the same.
R: people, people all over town
Some of them are poor and others wear a crown
Ive seen alot of many faces
Joy and pain in different places
Open your mind, set yourself free
Figure it out, what could it be?
Sympathise, understand
Give love and peace to the other fellow man
A: faces
R: faces, joy and pain
A: look around you
Do you see those faces
What do those faces tell you
A: everywhere I go, different faces I see
A: faces
All around different faces I see
Some are happy, some in misery
They express joy and pain
No two faces are the same.
R: playing with your life, playing with your soul
You all scream out Im the one in control
Killing of the colours, silly stupid games
You know who you are without no names
Dont mess the world cause that the sequal
Open your mind cause we talking about the people
In the world, all kind of places
Different races, different faces
A: different faces
Everywhere
song performed by by 2 Unlimited
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Facebook
faces, faces, faces
just faces
Facebook
3500 friends half of whom
he has no inkling about
Facebook
he stares at the faces
he hardly knows
Facebook
faces and faces
he hardly knows
Facebook
an adult returns to kid's world
poke me, poke me
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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You, Your Face and Your Many Faces
you and your face
you and your many faces
i never clarify your other face
because you build a siege
with your many faces
your many faces have a heart of liar
little facet of your tricky mind
you and your many faces
your face not to be someone's follower
your face to be the queen of yourself
you and your face
you don't need to show your inner face
your many faces will play the pace
and no one resist your easily fake face
your face and your many faces
if those two are not good enough
to get me
what will you take to become your face?
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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The mirror
what wonder you give, where everybody, looks at you with
a very smiling beauty, a feeling of something, where
every one have never experience being one in your
dream of ecstasy
you have though us to looks young, dazzling charm, where
every hearts be calmed, you always play like an angel, who
brings us to the wonderland
telling the truth is what you want, even an ugly duckling you
turn into handsome one, in your might, the kingdom becomes
lonely. such alluring power you posses, comes to envy
where even death you deceive, life it gives you preserve, and
turned terrible happening into a happy one, in every home you
are there sheltering their faces as it gone, your the magic
where everybody wants, in the land we fondly called
Annabel Lee
life is a mirror, where we wanted too, of the Narcissus's we all
knew, doubt no one for in our faces, never changes, though
each one, wants to be pieces
if only we knew, even ugly faces we want to be pretty, at home
we wanted to be, little mind always thing of easy, just to lure
others that we are better than thee
the tale is ready to unlock the secret of majestic beauty, for
a thousand years Narcissus is lock in the mirror he will be free,
now try your luck in the mirror you see and see what happen
to your whole family.... be aware!
poem by Antonio Liao
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Just The Faces Change
I look around for faces I know
I never ever want to go home
My friends are in bed but I'm best on my own
I'm terrified of driving a car
Afraid I'm afraid of the dark
But it happened before in a different bar
And I know it's late but won't you take me home
I must have thought of getting out now
But how am I gonna get out
When even the names stay the same
Just the faces change
It's easier to stare at the sun
Than look at all the things that you've done
Intentions were good but so was the fun
And you know it's wrong it can't go on for long
I must have thought of getting out now
But how am I going to get out
When even the names stay the same
Just the faces change
Just the faces change
I must have thought of getting out now
But how am I going to get out
When even the names stay the same
Just the faces change
Just the faces change
song performed by by Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mirror Images
Faces in the mirror
faces in the past
faces in the future
faces from a different world
Faces in the mirror
looking back
all for the life
they once had
all for the life
they should have had
All my faces
all my lives
looking back
poem by Dave Alan Walker
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Faces & Names
Faces and names, I wish they were the same
Faces and names only cause trouble for me
Faces and names
If we all looked the same and we all had the same name
I wouldnt be jealous of you or you jealous of me
Faces and names
I always fall in love with someone who looks
The way I wish that I could be
Im always staring at someone who hurts
And the one they hurt is me
Faces and names, to me theyre all the same
If I looked like you and you looked like me
Thered be less trouble you see
Faces and names, I wish theyd go away
Id disappear into that wall and never talk
Talk, not talk
I wish I was a robot or a machine
Without a feeling or a thought
People who want to meet the name I have
Are always disappointed when they meet me
Faces and names, I wish they were the same
Faces and names only cause problems for me
Faces and names
Id rather be a hole in the wall
Looking out on the other side
Id rather look and listen, listen and not talk
To faces and names
If I had a breakdown when I was a kid
I lost my hair when I was young
If you dress older when youre not
As your really age you look the same
If we all looked the same, we wouldnt play these games
Me dressing for you and you dressing for me
Undressing for me
Faces and names, if they all were the same
You wouldnt be jealous of me or me jealous of you
Me jealous of you, me jealous of you
Your face and your name
Your face and your name
Faces and names
Faces and names
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bad Old Days
The summer of nineteen eighteen
I read The Jungle and The
Research Magnificent. That fall
My father died and my aunt
Took me to Chicago to live.
The first thing I did was to take
A streetcar to the stockyards.
In the winter afternoon,
Gritty and fetid, I walked
Through the filthy snow, through the
Squalid streets, looking shyly
Into the people’s faces,
Those who were home in the daytime.
Debauched and exhausted faces,
Starved and looted brains, faces
Like the faces in the senile
And insane wards of charity
Hospitals. Predatory
Faces of little children.
Then as the soiled twilight darkened,
Under the green gas lamps, and the
Sputtering purple arc lamps,
The faces of the men coming
Home from work, some still alive with
The last pulse of hope or courage,
Some sly and bitter, some smart and
Silly, most of them already
Broken and empty, no life,
Only blinding tiredness, worse
Than any tired animal.
The sour smells of a thousand
Suppers of fried potatoes and
Fried cabbage bled into the street.
I was giddy and sick, and out
Of my misery I felt rising
A terrible anger and out
Of the anger, an absolute vow.
Today the evil is clean
And prosperous, but it is
Everywhere, you don’t have to
Take a streetcar to find it,
And it is the same evil.
And the misery, and the
Anger, and the vow are the same.
poem by Kenneth Rexroth
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The Old Familiar Faces
I HAVE had playmates, I have had companions,
In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days--
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
I have been laughing, I have been carousing,
Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies--
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
I loved a Love once, fairest among women:
Closed are her doors on me, I must not see her--
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man:
Like an ingrate, I left my friend abruptly;
Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces.
Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood,
Earth seem'd a desert I was bound to traverse,
Seeking to find the old familiar faces.
Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother,
Why wert not thou born in my father's dwelling?
So might we talk of the old familiar faces--
How some they have died, and some they have left me,
And some are taken from me; all are departed--
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
poem by Charles Lamb
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Why do I write today?
same question
but a different answer
a matter of point of view
a compulsion
a sickness unto
life
a beggar of
words
everything
are glass stirring
mechanisms
they stir us into
further stirs
whirlpools
me, i am another
one
black and white
the gray areas
they are worth their
own shades
disregard the colors
that do not exist for a while
here
faces and faces
my face
in the mirror
bulging tummies
oh
how did i neglect
my years
pamper myself
with the fats of this
world
this sickness now
into death
Also, (forgive
this mimicry)
following you
behind
nothing to see beyond
meaningless
gestures.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Chomillah palace in Hyderabad
The palace was luminously wet and reached out to sky
In its shadow lay the kings and their faceless women
Whose fine drapery interrupted their noses and seeing eyes
Under big-vaulting domes and resounding halls.
Their noises went up to the ceiling and returned empty
Like their noses and eyes lost from their faces.
They were not lost actually but had never been there.
When the silks arrived they forgot the women’s faces.
The women sat there gossiping about other women,
Other women in the harem and their fine draperies.
Their men’s bloated egos did not show on men’s faces;
Their men’s egos showed on the women’s stomachs, ,
On the little heirs to the throne who came from there.
A fine bangle, a glittering necklace and some pearls
Hush talk about the latest addition to the harem
And other scraps of conversation went on as it rained.
They had no faces for the evening conversation,
Only bodies fully draped in the finest gilded silks.
In the beginning they sat on the ground huddled.
Later the West grew on them in the white man’s land
And they sat on sofas and high backed chairs presiding
Tea ceremonies just like the sophisticated women.
They still did not have their noses on their faces.
poem by Jagannath rao Adukuri
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The Triumph
When life was a cobweb of stars for Beauty who came
In the whisper of leaves or a bird's lone cry in the glen,
On dawn-lit hills and horizons girdled with flame
I sought for the triumph that troubles the faces of men.
With death in the terrible flickering gloom of the fight
I was cruel and fierce with despair; I was naked and bound;
was stricken: and Beauty returned through the shambles of night;
In the faces of men she returned; and their triumph I found.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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The Faces Of Our Women
Mary didn't give birth to God.
Mary isn't the mother of God.
Mary is one mother among many mothers.
Mary gave birth to a son,
a son among many sons.
That's why Mary is so beautiful in all the pictures of her.
That's why Mary's son is so close to us, like our own sons.
The faces of our women are the book of our pains.
Our pains, our faults and the blood we shed
carve scars on the faces of our women like plows.
And our joys are reflected in the eyes of women
like the dawns glowing on the lakes.
Our imaginations are on the faces of women we love.
Whether we see them or not, they are before us,
closest to our realities and furthest.
poem by Nazim Hikmet
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The voice and the face
In many female singers
I loved them imagining their faces
Till I came to know their faces.
Then I separated their voice
From their faces to love.
Anuradha Sriram is an exception.
08.04.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Home Away From Home
I walk down the small path
bordered either side by bluebells.
As I walk down the path
which I have done hundreds of times before.
There is a stirring in the trees,
which prompts my memories,
of faces that have come and gone
over the passing years.
Also comes back the laughter
that never seems to subside
and all the jokes
we’ve played on one another.
I smiled as I stopped for a moment
to look around at everything there.
It seems like only yesterday
that I came along here,
but in reality, the years have flown by.
Some faces I remember
will never be coming back to visit,
while the others I might see someday.
Even when the sad day comes
when I can’t come anymore.
I will leave with many photographs
in my memory store.
A few more steps I take
and the town comes into view
along with friendly faces
on the boardwalks there.
There are a few whose names I forget,
but the faces I know so well
in this little town
I call my home away from home.
15 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Halsted Street Car
Come you, cartoonists,
Hang on a strap with me here
At seven o’clock in the morning
On a Halsted street car.
Take your pencils
And draw these faces.
Try with your pencils for these crooked faces,
That pig-sticker in one corner—his mouth—
That overall factory girl—her loose cheeks.
Find for your pencils
A way to mark your memory
Of tired empty faces.
After their night’s sleep,
In the moist dawn
And cool daybreak,
Faces
Tired of wishes,
Empty of dreams.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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PENTHOUSE didn't seem to concentrate as much on the girls' faces, and I really wanted to see the girls' faces. It seems like through the 1980's, they almost went out of their way to obscure the girls' faces.
quote by Chester Brown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Haunted By Their Memory
Why with all the faces that we knew,
does a few seem to fill our thoughts
and haunt us sometimes for days.
The problem with these faces
they are of friends who faded away
and will not be seen again.
Is this our memory telling us
we should have been closer then
and not let their friendship drift away?
That we should have kept in touch more.
Spoke more on the telephone,
and wrote a letter or two,
maybe even visited from time to time.
Now we are haunted by their faces
for things we should have done, but never did.
Is this our punishment for not making the time
to keep in touch with them
that their faces haunt us.
Punishing us on a daily basis
knowing its too late now,
as they are no longer with us.
Could it be they are there as a lesson to learn?
That when something rare comes into our lives
we should embrace it strongly and not turn it away
for it will never come back.
Once it has gone from us
all we will be left with is faces
and haunted by their memory.
23 February 2009
poem by David Harris
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