En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Gina (Limerick)

There once was a sheila named Gina
she would chase from this site a hyena.
So she grabs their small balls
hurls them over the falls
then comes back as a ballerina.

She is good, also fair as a critic
and she hates matters hippocritic
since she likes what I write
and gives others a fright
I would call her brain analytic.

Long ago when I lived in Badena
I was married to Wilhelmina.
But the marriage went bust
no, it didn't lack lust
it is just that I was a Berliner.

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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CAN'T TRUST THE BUST...by talile ali

CAN'T TRUST THE BUST

CAN'T TRUST THE BUST
CAN'T TRUST THE BUST
SUCCUMB TO LUST
CAN'T TRUST THE BUST

EVERY TIME I WALK AROUND
THEN SUDDENLY SEE A WELL SCULPTED PAIR
ALL OF A SUDDEN I FEEL A RUSH,
TOTALLY DAZZLED, JUST HAD TO BE THERE
SO FRAZZLED, BOUNCING WITHOUT A CARE

CAN'T TRUST THE BUST
CAN'T TRUST THE BUST
SUCCUMB TO LUST
CAN'T TRUST THE BUST

DON'T MATTER IF THEY MATCH OR NOT
REAL SATISFACTION, AND THAT'S SAYING A LOT
MY HANDS AND LIPS ARE IN CONTROL
I LOVE THEM BREAST, THEY ARE MY GOAL

CAN'T TRUST THE BUST
CAN'T TRUST THE BUST
SUCCUMB TO LUST
CAN'T TRUST THE BUST

poem by Talile Ali
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Nothing Even Matters

Now the skies could fall
Not even if my boss should call
The world it seems so very small
'Cause nothing even matters at all

Nothing even matters
Nothing even matters at all
Nothing even matters
Nothing even matters at all

See I don't need no alcohol
Your love makes me feel ten feet tall
Without it I'd go through withdrawal
'Cause nothing even matters at all

Nothing even matters
Nothing even matters at all
Nothing even matters
Nothing even matters at all

These buildings could drift out to sea
Some natural catastrophe
Still there's no place I'd rather be
'Cause nothing even matters to me

Nothing even matters
Nothing even matters to me
Nothing even matters
Nothing even matters to me

You're part of my identity
I sometimes have the tendency
To look at you religiously
'Cause nothing even matters to me

Nothing even matters
Nothing even matters to me
Nothing even matters
Nothing even matters to me

Now you won't find me at no store
I have no time for manicures
With you it's never either or
'Cause nothing even matters no more

Nothing even matters
Nothing even matters no more
Nothing even matters
Nothing even matters no more

Now my team could score
And make it to the Final Four
Just repossess my 4x4
'Cause nothing even matters no more

Nothing even matters
Nothing even matters no more
Nothing even matters
Nothing even matters no more

song performed by by Lauryn Hill from The Miseducation Of Lauryn Hill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Got You By The Balls

Hey mister businessman
Head of the company
Are you looking for a lady
One who likes to please?
Hey mister businessman
This one likes to tease
With a special service
In french quantities
But she wont sacrifice
What you want tonight
She wont come across
Unless theres money in her hand
And shes calling all the shots
She got you by the balls
She got you by the balls
She got you by the balls
She got you by the balls
She got you by the balls
Hey mister businessman
High society
She can play the school girl
And spank you all you please
But she wont sacrifice
What you want tonight
She wont come across
Unless theres money in her hand
She dont go overtime
She got you by the balls
She got you by the balls
She got you by the balls
She got you by the balls
She got you by the balls
(kiss your balls goodbye)
Hang it left, hang it right,
Got you by the balls
Got your shorts, got your curlies
Got you - by the balls
She got you by the balls
She got you by the balls
She got you by the balls
Yeah, yeah
She got you by the balls
She got you by the balls
She got you by the balls
She got you by the balls
She got you by the balls

song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wicket Cricket Critic

If the cricket critics' nagging
Merits stern official gagging
Which I doubt
How would critical ascetics,
With their prosy homiletics,
Shut it out?
And the question then arises:
If more cricketing surprises,
Such as bodyline, begin to threaten cricket,
And another stunt, when sprung,
Call for clicking of the tongue,
Should a cricket critic critically click it?

When the barrackers grow lyric
In a manner most satiric
And profane,
How, one ventures still to wonder,
May the clamor be kept under?
How restrain?
For one barbaric larrik-
In can do a lot of barrack-
In', and cause a lot of worry at the wicket.
But would sportsmen be abusing
Cricket canons in refusing
To supply that cricket critic with a ticket?

As a critic analytic
Of the cricket critics' critic
I would say,
When we criticise their cricket,
Then the players have to stick it,
Come what may.
No specific soporific
May be used; for it is diffic-
Ult to strike a critic partly paralytic.
So there's nothing gained in seeking,
As I know; and I am speaking
As a critic of the cricket critic's critic.

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Call It a Good Marriage

Call it a good marriage -
For no one ever questioned
Her warmth, his masculinity,
Their interlocking views;
Except one stray graphologist
Who frowned in speculation
At her h's and her s's,
His p's and w's.

Though few would still subscribe
To the monogamic axiom
That strife below the hip-bones
Need not estrange the heart,
Call it a good marriage:
More drew those two together,
Despite a lack of children,
Than pulled them apart.

Call it a good marriage:
They never fought in public,
They acted circumspectly
And faced the world with pride;
Thus the hazards of their love-bed
Were none of our damned business -
Till as jurymen we sat on
Two deaths by suicide.

poem by Robert Graves
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Dynamite Satchel Of Pain

Lets write a song, baby
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
Now sit your ass in the chair and I'll tell you my name,
My daddy always told me that he didn't wanna hear me complain,
That's why my balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
I hope this song will explain,
Just why my balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
Well I was born in the back of a truck on the fourth of july,
I was raised by a Portuguese ninja who taught me to fly,
A business man pulled over and he asked if I needed a ride,
I had to eat that business man for lunch cos I wanted his tie,
Damn I look good in that tie,
Air born Portuguese ninja eats man for his tie,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My daddy always told me that he didn't wanna hear me complain,
That's why my balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain.

song performed by by Wheatus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dynomite Satchel Of Pain

Lets write a song, baby
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
Now sit your ass in the chair and I'll tell you my name,
My daddy always told me that he didn't wanna hear me complain,
That's why my balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
I hope this song will explain,
Just why my balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
Well I was born in the back of a truck on the fourth of july,
I was raised by a Portuguese ninja who taught me to fly,
A business man pulled over and he asked if I needed a ride,
I had to eat that business man for lunch cos I wanted his tie,
Damn I look good in that tie,
Air born Portuguese ninja eats man for his tie,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My daddy always told me that he didn't wanna hear me complain,
That's why my balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain,
My balls are bigger than a dynamite satchel of pain.

song performed by by Wheatus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Twirl

(kinky friedman)
Just a small-town girl
Till you learned to twirl
Then you set the world on fire
Like a drive-in cinderella
In a chevy named desire
So leave your teddy-bear
At the county fair,
Honey, hollywoods on the phone,
For a small-town girl
From a small-town world
Youre a long, long way from home.
They say that dreams come true in indiana
That momma loves you up in abilene,
And if you wish upon a star in texarkana
Some day you may be a twirling queen.
Just a small-town girl
Till you learned to twirl
Then you set the world on fire
Like a drive-in cinderella
In a chevy named desire
So leave your teddy-bear
At the county fair,
Honey, hollywoods on the phone,
For a small-town girl
From a small-town world
Youre a long, long way from home.
Then you turned around and yesterday was over,
Childhoods like some long lost lullabye
Way back when all the pearls were in the ocean,
Way back when all the stars were in the sky.
Just a small-town girl
Till you learned to twirl
Then you set the world on fire
Like a drive-in cinderella
In a chevy named desire
So leave your teddy-bear
At the county fair,
Honey, hollywoods on the phone,
For a small-town girl
From a small-town world
Youre a long, long way from home.
Just a small-town girl
Till you learned to twirl
Then you set the world on fire
Like a drive-in cinderella
In a chevy named desire
So leave your teddy-bear
At the county fair,
Honey, hollywoods on the phone,
For a small-town girl
From a small-town world
Youre a long, long way from home.
For a small-town girl
From a small-town world
Youre a long, long way from home.

song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh! The Marriage

Oh! the marriage, the marriage,
With love and mo bhuachaill for me,
The ladies that ride in a carriage
Might envy my marriage to me;
For Eoghan[84] is straight as a tower,
And tender, and loving, and true;
He told me more love in an hour
Than the Squires of the county could do.
Then, Oh! the marriage, etc.

His hair is a shower of soft gold,
His eye is as clear as the day,
His conscience and vote were unsold
When others were carried away;
His word is as good as an oath,
And freely 'twas given to me;
Oh! sure, 'twill be happy for both
The day of our marriage to see.
Then, Oh! the marriage, etc.

His kinsmen are honest and kind,
The neighbours think much of his skill,
And Eoghan's the lad to my mind,
Though he owns neither castle nor mill.
But he has a tilloch of land,
A horse, and a stocking of coin,
A foot for a dance, and a hand
In the cause of his country to join.
Then, Oh! the marriage, etc.

We meet in the market and fair
We meet in the morning and night
He sits on the half of my chair,
And my people are wild with delight;
Yet I long through the winter to skim,
Though Eoghan longs more I can see,
When I will be married to him,
And he will be married to me.
Then, Oh! the marriage, the marriage,
With love and mo bhuachaill for me,
The ladies that ride in a carriage,
Might envy my marriage to me.

poem by Thomas Davis
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Oh! The Marriage

AIR--_The Swaggering Jig._

I.

Oh! the marriage, the marriage,
With love and _mo bhuachaill_ for me,
The ladies that ride in a carriage
Might envy my marriage to me;
For Eoghan is straight as a tower,
And tender, and loving, and true;
He told me more love in an hour
Than the Squires of the county could do.
Then, Oh! the marriage, etc.

II.

His hair is a shower of soft gold,
His eye is as clear as the day,
His conscience and vote were unsold
When others were carried away;
His word is as good as an oath,
And freely 'twas given to me;
Oh! sure, 'twill be happy for both
The day of our marriage to see.
Then, Oh! the marriage, etc.

III.

His kinsmen are honest and kind,
The neighbours think much of his skill,
And Eoghan's the lad to my mind,
Though he owns neither castle nor mill.
But he has a tilloch of land,
A horse, and a stocking of coin,
A foot for a dance, and a hand
In the cause of his country to join.
Then, Oh! the marriage, etc.

IV.

We meet in the market and fair--
We meet in the morning and night--
He sits on the half of my chair,
And my people are wild with delight;
Yet I long through the winter to skim,
Though Eoghan longs more I can see,
When I will be married to him,
And he will be married to me.
Then, Oh! the marriage, the marriage,
With love and _mo bhuachaill_ for me,
The ladies that ride in a carriage,
Might envy my marriage to me.

poem by Thomas Osborne Davis
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I have lived

I have lived through being
Neruda's mermaid, feeling
Every cigarette burn.

I have lived through being
The African Princess,
Where the Prince turned
Back into a Lion.

I have lived through being
A ballerina, dancing gracefully
Upon the stage.

I have lived through trying
To be a poet, but frosted
Out not knowing rules.

I have travelled places
So beautiful, I still go
Back for more, no fool.

But best of all, I can say
I have lived,
Because of you.

poem by Harriet James
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Man and woman in shape

Shoulders wider than the hip
A man grabs women’s eye balls.
The hip wider than shoulders,
A woman grabs men’s eye balls.

He is to hold her and she’s to bear him
22.03.2010

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Nina Pretty Ballerina

Every day in the morning on her way to the office
You can see as she catches a train
Just a face among a million faces
Just another woman with no name
Not the girl youd remember but shes still something special
If you knew her I am sure youd agree
cause I know shes got a little secret
Friday evening she turns out to be...
Nina, pretty ballerina, now she is the queen of the dancing floor
This is the moment shes waited for
Just like cinderella, just like cinderella
Nina, pretty ballerina, who would ever think she could be this way
This is the part that she likes to play
But she knows the fun would go away
If she would play it every day
So shes back every morning to her work at the office
And another week to live in a dream
And another row of early mornings
In an almost never-ending stream
Doesnt talk very often, kind of shy and uncertain
Everybody seems to think shes a bore
But they wouldnt know her little secret
What her friday night would have in store...
Nina, pretty ballerina, now she is the queen of the dancing floor
This is the moment shes waited for
Just like cinderella, just like cinderella
Nina, pretty ballerina, who would ever think she could be this way
This is the part that she likes to play
She would like to play it every day
Nina, pretty ballerina, now she is the queen of the dancing floor
This is the moment shes waited for
Just like cinderella, just like cinderella
Nina, pretty ballerina, who would ever think she could be this way
This is the part that she likes to play
(fade)

song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hyena

Night time fell at the opening,
In the final act of the beginning of time.
Hyena take your role, the stage is set.
The town is safe again tonight
Hyena (I see the day ahead)
Hyena (and all that Ive cried through)
Hyena (God knows youre doin that, dont you? )
Hyena, sister look to your hand
Man you serve communal interest,
Shell tell you when and where and how and why youd hurt
A beautiful young lady
Hyena (I see the day ahead)
Hyena (and all that Ive cried through)
Hyena (God knows youre doin that, dont you? )
The only thing to fear is fearlessness
The bigger the weapon the greater the fear
Hyena is ambassador to here
Night time fell like the closing
Meager pay, but recognition
Hyena crawls on his belly out
The town is safe again tonight
Hyena (I see the changes, man)
Hyena (goin on cross the way)
Hyena (I see my road ahead)
Hyena (dont know if I should stay)
Hyena (I see you holding him,)
Hyena (and all that Ive cried through)
Hyena (God knows youre doin that, dont you? )

song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To his Friends of Christ-Church upon the mislike of the Marriage of the Arts acted at Woodstock

But is it true, the Court mislik't the Play,
That Christ-Church and the Arts have lost the day;
That Ignoramus should so far excell,
Their Hobby-horse from ours hath born the Bell?
Troth you are justly serv'd, that would present
Ought unto them, but shallow merriment;
Or to your Marriage-table did admit
Guests that are stronger far in smell then wit.
Had some quaint Bawdry larded ev'ry Scene,
Some fawning Sycophant, or courted queane;
Had there appear'd some sharp cross-garter'd man
Whom their loud laugh might nick-name Puritan,
Cas'd up in factious breeches and small ruffe,
That hates the surplis, and defies the cuffe: Then sure they would have given applause to crown
That which their ignorance did now cry down.
Let me advise, when next you do bestow
Your pains on men that do but little know,
You do no Chorus nor a Comment lack,
Which may expound and construe ev'ry Act:
That it be short and slight; for if 't be good
Tis long, and neither lik't nor understood.
Know tis Court fashion still to discommend
All that which they want brain to comprehend.

poem by Henry King
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My Friend

MY Friend wears a cheerful smile of his own,
And a musical tongue has he;
We sit and look in each other's face,
And are very good company.
A heart he has, full warm and red
As ever a heart I see;
And as long as I keep true to him,
Why, he'll keep true to me.

When the wind blows high and the snow falls fast
And we hear the wassailers' roar--
My Friend and I, with a right good-will
We bolt the chamber door:
I smile at him and he smiles at me
In a dreamy calm profound,
Till his heart leaps up in the midst of him
With a comfortable sound.

His warm breath kisses my thin gray hair
And reddens my ashen cheeks;
He knows me better than you all know,
Though never a word he speaks:--
Knows me as well as some had known
Were things--not as things be.
But hey, what matters? my Friend and I
Are capital company.

At dead of night, when the house is still,
He opens his pictures fair;
Faces that are, that used to be,
And faces that never were:
My wife sits sewing beside my hearth,
My little ones frolic wild,
Though--Lilian's married these twenty years,
And I never had a child.

But hey, what matters? When those who laugh
May weep to-morrow, and they
Who weep be as those that wept not--all
Their tears long wiped away.
I shall burn out, like you, my Friend,
With a bright warm heart and bold,
That flickers up to the last--then drops
Into quiet ashes cold.

And when you flicker on me, old Friend,
In the old man's elbow-chair,
Or--something easier still, where we
Lie down, to arise up fair
And young, and happy--why then, my Friend,
Should other friends ask of me,
Tell them I lived and loved and died
In the best of all company.

poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Fantasy IV

Pounce of nipple
Snatches,
Catches me off guard

Flounce and ripple
Thro' the breasts
Arrests

Landing hard,
I'm flung upon my back
To analyse the ceiling -
No appealing under stress

Now under dress -
Panties gone
And she upon
My countenance -
I rouse to bait
Her feminine way

Lead astray by
Aromatic warming
Of her womanhood,
I tune her body's
Resonance
Thro' eloquence of tongue -

Her shrieking
Highly strung

We up the play

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2012

lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust
lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust lust

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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They Lust

They Lust!
Don't let them fool you.
Under that self righteous,
'Holier-than-thou' veneered exterior...
They lust.
That's the only thing they do,
That can be trusted.
They lust.
Whether it's sex, violence
Or drugs from others they sell to bust!
They lust.
The weapons they legalize to hunt and kill,
Just for thrills to satisfy their mental ills.
They lust!
And stealing and lieing with covered up shrills!
They lust.
Don't let them fool you.
If they didn't...
They wouldn't be asking God,
To forgive them for what they do!
They lust and pray.
And take they do from others that way!
They lust.
Deluded...
By their own self deception.
And this is not admitted.
Nor will they quit it.
They lust.
It's in the fabric they wear.
And dare those who oppose,
This exposure!
Seeking excuses and remedies,
To mask their misdeeds...
Feed and breathe.
They lust!
To protect and gratify their whims!
They lust in view.
And deny that's what they do.
They lust.
Self destructing...
With a willful absence of shame.
They lust...
And it is done,
As they imprison others to blame...
For doing the same.
They lust.
While watching those who suffer.
They lust.
And this excites them!
Even when betraying one another.
They lust.
That's the only thing they do,
That can be trusted.
They lust.
It's in the fabric of their allegiances,
They pledge to keep obeyed.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Oh Pretty Ballerina

Oh pretty ballerina with a bow in your hair
How i envy your movements so graceful and beautiful
How i long for your lean figure and fragile frame
Oh pretty ballerina with a bow in your hair
How i envy the way the world spins around you
Yet you don't fall like the rest
How i long for your balance
That keeps you so poised
Oh pretty ballerina with a bow in your hair
How i envy your slippers
That gleam in the lights
How i long for the dresses
That shimmer with every glide you do
Oh pretty ballerina with a bow in your hair
How i envy your perfection
How i long for your adoration

poem by Korey Buffo
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Pour Me Another Tequila Sheila

(Chorus)
Pour me another tequila, Sheila.
Take off that red satin dress.
'Cause I crossed the border,
And I beat the dealer for all of that gold in Juarez.
I feel like ol' Pancho Villa, Sheila,
And I've got the pesos to spend,
So pour me another tequila, Sheila.
And lay down and love me again.

No I can't tell you about it.
Don't mind the gun by my bed,
But I feel kind'a naked without it,
And it eases the fears in my head.
I never trusted in woman,
But Sheila I trust you tonight.
So pass me the salt and a lemon,
Bend down and blow out the light.

(Chorus)

Sheila I'm hearin' your heartbeat,
But I'm hearing footsteps outside.
The courtyard is crawlin' with them Federales
And Sheila, there's no place to hide,
but I don't know who could have tipped 'em,
nobody knew it but you,
but I never have trusted in woman,
Sheila, here's what I'm going to do.

(Chorus)

Yeah! Pour me another tequila,
I'm gonna put on your red satin Dress.
You put on my clothes, and you go face the dealer.
Sheila I wish you the best.
I never trusted in woman,
Sheila I trusted you tonight.
So pour me another tequila Sheila,
And I'll run for the border again.
Yeah! Pour me another tequila,
Sheila, as I ride for the border again.

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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