En.Citatepedia^®.ro

042010g Which Group You Ought To Be

i listen to office stories; no politics
tiger didn't make hundred; forgotten
toyota never heard for two weeks
graduation is creeping to the top ten
stranded pets at airports; most knows
tea party, not part of gossip menu

whiners gather around like bees
they console each other to please
smokers stayed at their own pit
bumming smoke; blowing clouds
silent group line against the wall
listening; pretending they know it all

poem by Manonton Dalan
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Your Racist Friend

This is where the party ends
I cant stand here listening to you
And your racist friend
I know politics bore you
But I feel like a hypocrite talking to you
And your racist friend
It was the loveliest party that Ive ever attended
If anything was broken Im sure it could be mended
My head cant tolerate this bobbing and pretending
Listen to some bullet-head and the madness that hes saying
This is where the party ends
Ill just sit here wondering how you
Can stand by your racist friend
I know politics bore you
But I feel like a hypocrite talking to you
You and your racist friend
This is where the party ends
I cant stand here listening to you
And your racist friend
I know politics bore you
But I feel like a hypocrite talking to you
And your racist friend
Out from the kitchen to the bedroom to the hallway
Your friend apologizes, he could see it my way
He let the contents of the bottle do the thinking
Cant shake the devils hand and say youre only kidding
This is where the party ends
I cant stand here listening to you
And your racist friend
I know politics bore you
But I feel like a hypocrite talking to you
And your racist friend
Notes
Most alternate versions are very similar. the farthest removed is the extended mix dial-a-song version:
This is where the party ends
I cant stand here wondering how you
Can stand by your racist friend
This is where the party ends
I cant stand here wondering how you
Can stand by your racist friend
It was the loveliest party
That Ive ever attended
If anything got broken
Im sure it could be mended
But my head cant stand this bobbin and pretendin
Tolerate some bullethead and the bullshit that hes sayin
This is where the party ends
I cant stand here listening to your
Your racist friend
This is where the party ends
Ill just sit here wondering how you
Can stand by your racist friend
It was the loveliest party
That Ive ever attended
If anything got broken
Im sure it could be mended
My head cant stand this bobbin, sittin and pretendin
Tolerate some bullethead and the bullshit that hes sayin
This is where the party ends
I cant stand here listening to your
Your racist friend
This is where the party ends
Ill just sit here wondering how you
Can stand by your racist friend
This is where the party ends
I cant stand here listening to your
Your racist friend
This is where the party ends
Ill just sit here wondering how you
Can stand by your racist friend
This is where the party ends
This is where the party ends
This is

song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Listen? I Don't Think You Could Bear.

There’s a town
Deserted and broken down
Abandoned, not one person stayed around,
But it’s said if you listen, there’s a sound
Of painful stories and tears hitting the ground
Though there’s not a person to be found
Crashing on to the one fertile soil, all forgotten bound
Are stories that will never reach your ears
If they would have, would you have cared?
About the tragic, these unheard voices shared
A descriptive epic of your fears
Closer then you think but further then near
Listen? I don’t think you could bear
Souls stripped of love
It’s no wonder they gave up
And packed up all their stuff
The odor will fill your nose,
A stench of death, lost hopes
Honestly, you’ll never be the same
There’s well enough pain to make go insane
So much angst in one day
You couldn’t have stayed
In this town of facades
Everyone pretending it’s okay
Until the guns rung out
With a shout
Killing this broken town

poem by Tiffani Williams
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Early Works - No Smoking Zone

Shucks cannot have a puff
of the dreaded weed
the non-smokers have been at it again
sticking posters on the walls.
What a waste!
You cannot smoke
but they can litter the walls.
Now imagine the poor graffiti writer
who is punished for his joy,
but the non-coughers
can deface any wall
without a protest to be heard.
That was until now.
Smokers of the world unite
and stop these stickers
from ruining our walls.

22 April 1985

poem by David Harris
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Most politicians - those people who live, eat and breathe politics - like to sit around and talk about politics and tell political war stories. Reagan didn't do that. His war stories were movie war stories and Hollywood war stories. He loved that.

quote by Lyn Nofziger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forgotten Time

bumming around
the country...
sleeping under bridges,
or just under...

the night sky...
working when i
could find it.

selling blood
when i couldnt!

gather a little change,
stop in a diner
for a cup of
black coffee...

writing poems
on napkins
with pencils...

leaving them for
my tip...

unsigned, forgotten
prayers, a forgotten
man, a forgotten
time!

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Devils Radio

Devils radio
Gossip, gossip
Gossip, gossip
I heard it in the night
Words that thoughtless speak
Like vultures swooping down below
On the devils radio
I hear it through the day
Airwaves gettin filled
With gossip broadcast to and fro
On the devils radio
Oh yeah, gossip
Gossip, oh yeah
Hes in the clubs and bars
And never turns it down
Talking about what he dont know
On the devils radio
Hes in your tv set
Wont give it a rest
That soul betraying so and so
The devils radio
Gossip, gossip
Gossip, gossip
(oh yeah) gossip, (gossip) oh yeah
(gossip) oh yeah, (oh yeah) gossip
Its white and black like industrial waste
Pollution of the highest degree
You wonder why I dont hang out much
I wonder how you cant see
Hes in the films and songs
And on all your magazines
Its everywhere that you may go
The devils radio
Oh yeah, gossip
Gossip, oh yeah
Runs thick and fast, no one really sees
Quite what bad it can do
As it shapes you into something cold
Like an eskimo igloo
Its all across our lives
Like a weed its spread
till nothing else has space to grow
The devils radio
Can creep up in the dark
Make us hide behind shades
And buzzing like a dynamo
The devils radio
(gossip) oh yeah, (gossip) oh yeah
(gossip) gossip, (gossip) gossip
Oh yeah, gossip I heard you on satans wireless
Gossip, oh yeah you know the devils radio, child
Gossip, gossip
Gossip, gossip

song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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8 Weeks

8 weeks to live
8 weeks to die
8 weeks is all they had
8 weeks to do the things they never did
8 weeks of fighting
8 weeks of trying to fit everything in
8 weeks of pain, suffering, and confusion
8 weeks of faking a smile
8 weeks of repetition
8 weeks of knowing they were nearing the end
8 weeks of love from friends and family
8 weeks…the shortest/longest, most hurtful/helpful weeks of their lives
8 weeks later…knowing they’ll never be able to do the things they’ve always wanted to
8 weeks later…now realizing he’ll never see her walk, at graduation nor down the aisle
8 weeks later…close friends and family now in shambles
8 weeks later…close friends and family never closer
8 weeks later…here we are

poem by Anthony Martello
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I'm Going To Stop Pretending That I Didn't Break Y

I'm gonna tell you what you need to hear
And I'm a little too late, by three or four years
And it may not make much sense now that we are apart
But I'm going to stop pretending that I didn't break your heart
You see, I never thought enough of myself to realize
That losing me could mean something like the tears in your eyes
And I wanna tell you I'm sorry, but it's too late to start
But I'm going to stop pretending that I didn't break your heart
And it's Christmas Eve, years down the line
Sittin' wishing I treated you better when you were mine
And I have no way of knowing where you are
But I'm going to stop pretending that I didn't break your heart
I didn't mean to hurt you
I didn't know what I was doing
But I know what I have done

song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She Is Forgotten Pt.1 (Story)

Her parents don't notice her birthday
is just two months away.
nor do they care.
she asks a simple question.
'since my party is two months away
do i get a party? '
before she finishes a quick 'no' is heard.
'theres a party for you? ' her dad says
always trying to make her feel better.
but she knows that there is nothing for her
she hasn't had anything more than a sleep
over since she turned nine.
not only that, next year while she graduates
from the eighth grade to high school her
sister graduates from high school and so
does a friend
her sister gets a graduation party but
she isn't included in it.
she asks why she can't be included in it
and her mom replies
'you're sister didn't get an eighth grade
graduation so neither will you! '
she snaps at her mom
'well ill invite my own friends and
include myself in it no matter what you say! '
but deep inside she knows she won't be included
and no one will come up to her at the party
and say 'congradulations on graduating
to high school' and if someone does they
must really love her but knowing she
can't do anything about it and never could
do anything about anything that happened,
she goes to her room and cries.
she turns her radio up loud and screams
to the song 'welcome to my life'

'do you lock yourself in your room! ? !
with the radio turned up so loud! ? !
that no one hears you screaming! ? !
no you don't know what its like! ? !
when nothing feels right! ? !
you don't know what its like! ? !
to be like meeeeeee! ? !
to be hurt! ? !
to feel lost! ? !
to be left out in the dark! ? !
to be kicked! ? !
when you're down! ? !
to feel like you've been pushed around! ? !
to be on the edge of breaking down! ? !
when no ones there to save you! ? !
no you don't know what its like! ? !
welcome to my life! '

that was her song
and no one could say it wasn't without lying
but that was only PART of one day!

(to be continued)

poem by Selena Star
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Jim Corbett

Jim Corbett great stories of maneaters told
For some tigers become maneaters when they grow old
For a frail or injured tiger a Human Being is easier prey
But for killing a Human a tiger with his or her life has to pay.

To a tiger a Human Being is something it can eat
As a tiger is a meat eater so it needs meat
A Human Being or a buffalo to him the same
It kills because it has to without remorse or shame.

Jim Corbett who killed many a maneater has a park in India named in his name
And his stories of hunting maneaters they brought him great fame
But tigers only kill because they have a need to
And the tiger to it's nature is only being true.

Jim Corbett wrote of man eating tigers and of how he tracked them down
And his stories have earned him a place in renown
But for the most part a tiger has to be either very old or ill
Before a Human Being it will bother to kill.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Still Smoking a Rant

A cigarette will soothe away
the stress and troubles of the day.
That’s what the doctors used to say.
When I was young

When feel down and skies are grey
a smoke will drive the blues away.
That’s what the doctors used to say.
When I was young.

A smoke will help you work and play
and do no harm in any way
That’s what the doctors used to say.
When I was young.

New fads and fancies come along.
Without admitting they were wrong.
The doctors sing a different song.
Now I am old.

If they were wrong why should we
believe their latest theory.
The doctors sing a different song.
Now I am old.

Smokers die younger so they say
younger than who I ask today.
The doctors sing a different song.
Now I am old.

I have smoked since I was ten,
part of my daily regimen.
The doctors sing a different song.
Now I am old.

Presumably I should be dead.
If I believed the lies we’re fed
The doctors sing a different song.
Now I am old.

The choice is yours to quit or smoke.
Myself I treat it as a joke.
The song the doctors sing today.
I am quite old

Both smokers and non smokers die
which I accept I don’t ask why
Despite the song the doctors sing.
I’m still smoking.

(7-Aug-07)

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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0016 Orpheus - or his lute?

It was his listening; he listened
to himself; he listened to himself
listening to his lute; his lute perforce
listened to itself; listened to itself
listening to him..listened to
the measures of all things, even
the measures of mankind..

space, air, listened to his listening;
listened as the eagle made a silent,
perfect circle around a centre in its mind
high above Delphi that clear morning;
listened to the silent cliffs across the gorge,
silently ominous in their listening;
the stream which trickles down past the carved theatre,
cool and clear enough to wash your face;
look up the mountain and hope it sacred, holy; it
plashes like curiosity pursued, down towards the river
which is a mere pencil line at the bottom of the gorge
in this so unexpected place;
the sea barely visible in the distance,
misty with its myths unspoken;

space listened and loved his music, allowed this scene;
a cool air, this morning elsewhere hot, descends gently
down the mountain to the gorge, curves past these rocks
where a dark shadow here or there
could be where the Sibyl listened too.

we thought, boarding the hot bus,
that we were tourists; then we looked,
became pilgrims; then something more,
more like worshippers of the unknown god
whose altar we left behind in Athens,
silent beyond questions,
listening to the space
as if the space itself
listened to some instrument well tuned,
a voice perhaps, silent, powerful.

the sun, the sunlight, moved from rock to rock
this cool, clear morning, waking
clumps of sparse bright flowers, woken
again by morning bees
who may be unaware – or born to know—
they forage at a world heritage site as do we visitors,
at Delphi, where still truth speaks in silence;
bees who listen to each other,
dance their satnav trails,
listen inwardly to flowers,
to honey, and what else

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Listen To Me

The Hollies
Listen To Me (Tony Hazzard)
Listen to me, I'll sing a song to change your mind.
Have you ever wondered why
when everything goes wrong
nobody stops to lend a hand,
nobody seems to care?
Then she looks you in the eye
and suddenly you're strong,
and very soon you realize that you didn't care about love.
Listen to me, I'll sing a song to change your mind.
Your ears are deaf, your mouth is dumb, your eyes are blind.
Listen to me and very soon I think you'll find,
somebody wants to help you,
somebody seems to care.
And very soon you've forgotten
that you didn't care about love.
Does it hurt to realize
you've been acting very strange,
refusing to take the love she gives,
pretending you don't care?
Did it take you by surprise
to discover how you'd changed -
how you forgot to remember
that you didn't care about love?
Listen to me, I'll sing a song to change your mind. (listen to me)
Your ears are deaf, your mouth is dumb, your eyes are blind.
Listen to me and very soon I think you'll find, (listen to me)
somebody wants to help you,
somebody seems to care.
And very soon you've forgotten
that you didn't care about love.
Listen to me, I'll sing a song to change your mind. (listen to me)
Your ears are deaf, your mouth is dumb, your eyes are blind.
Listen to me and very soon I think you'll find, (listen to me)
somebody wants to help you,
somebody seems to care.
And very soon you've forgotten
that you didn't care about love.
You care 'bout love.
you care 'bout
you care 'bout
you care 'bout love.

song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I’m Pretending

I’m pretending nothing happened,
that we are still together.
I’m pretending you never
went away with someone new.
I’m pretending we are still a couple,
that you are still nearby.
I’m pretending,
pretending
I am still with you.

I’m pretending that our love
still shines brightly.
I’m pretending that you still care
and lying to myself each day.
I’m pretending that you just stepped out
and that you are not far away.
I’m pretending,
pretending
I am still with you.

I’m pretending it always summer
and that winter never comes.
I’m pretending life is as it was
and I’m forever with you.
I’m pretending you are with me
and not in the arms of someone new.
I’m pretending that I am smiling
and that I’m not feeling blue.
I’m pretending,
pretending
I am still with you.

20 April 2009

poem by David Harris
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Some of the best news stories start in gossip. Monica Lewinsky certainly was gossip in the beginning. I had heard it months before I printed it.

quote by Matt Drudge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brain Constipation

Somebody hear me, somebody listen to me
Am I alone in this world
Is there anyone listening?
Appease me, cant find a reason to be
Alienation, is taking over me
Im going away, cant go on any longer
I really dont know why I just gotta die
I never thought this was how it would end
The body swinging,
I see it over and over again
Vanian singing, can I ever listen to it again?
A cry for attention was a cry never heard
With no one listening,
There was nothing to be heard
Nothing to be heard

song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Owners Of The Little Box

Line the inside of the little box
With your precious skin
And make yourself cozy
Just as you would in your own home

Make space voyages inside her
Gather stars make time squirt its milk
And sleep in the clouds

Just don't go around pretending
You're more important than her length
And wiser than her width

If you do we'll sell her for a song
Your box and everything inside her
To the first fleecer to the wind

We don't care about profit
And we don't keep spoiled goods

So don't keep saying
It's we who told you this
From inside the little box

poem by Vasko Popa
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We learn best to listen to our own voices if we are listening at the same time to other women - whose stories, for all our differences, turn out, if we listen well, to be our stories also.

quote by Barbara Deming
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Hundred Punks

They customised their gear and synchronised
(They)flame out in the streets with flame in their eyes
Guerilla operator ain't heard of cool
Check out any wall - one hundred punks rule
One hundred punks rule
A hundred punks run with London town
Down Wardour Street to the Soho Sound
Don't sleep all week only when they fall down
A hundred Rumble boys and Tumble girls
Protected by steel in a private world
Tomorrow's famous faces advertise today
And the studs on their back say
One hundred punks rule
A hundred punks run the loaded gun
They look so sharp they look like one
If you ain't got the look you'll never be one
A hundred punks run with total suss
A hundred good mates you know you can trust
There's never no bother and there's no fuss
Check out any wall - one hundred punks rule
One hundred punks rule
And Jimmy's no.101 knows one day he'll be One
Watch him - watch him Go!
A hundred punks run the leather army
I know whose by my side not at home with TV
Even when I'm down I hear them sing for me
Check out any wall - One hundred punks rule
One hundred punks rule
Check out any wall - One hundred punks rule
One hundred punks rule
Check out - One hundred punks rule O.K.

song performed by by Offspring
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When The Running Stops

When the Running Stops

In the enclose, outside the slaughterhouse, sheep were running in rings,
first to the left, and then to the right; in the end there was only one left
and it was too tired to run. I have lost two more friends, feel as I’m
the only sheep left in the enclosure and too tired to run. Heartache and
fun, we had it all in our adolescence. Then our way parted, but you never
forget a childhood friend.
Two years ago I was going to see them, a reunion of school friends going
back fifty years. In the end I didn’t go, knew we would talk a lot first then
fall silent. What we remembered was our friendship then and the past is
another country, as the poet says.
I knew the chasm of years could not be bridged, over meal and too much
wine. One of my friends sent me a photo of the party, a group of old men
I would have walked past in the street and not recognized any of them.
I put the photo up on the wall in my office, but soon took it down again.
Time is a cruel enemy I cry for them and me.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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