Home From Work At Dark Detroit: Original 10 12 2009
Home from work at dark Detroit
City night invisible front doors
Shut below roof hung welcome light
A burglars forewarning of porches
Raised three steps above entry
Galleries there where beds once kept
They passed away generations
Who gave mulatto sons to raise
And still they slept
Soldiering from monument to monument
Home from work at dark Detroit
They spun the bail impinged upon the
Forest swell sacked the fields and sung
To the pitch of the gospel themes
The sacred geometry of old lines
Of old masters of slaves
Home from work at dark Detroit
The lot is legal and sweetly placed
For the old master still draws
A time phased consciousness frozen
And still set to the pace
Its home from work from factories
Building the mold for the DNA
The enzyme left of the racist face.
poem by Lee B. Mack
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Detroit City
Last night I went to sleep in detroit city,
And I dreamed about those cotton fields at home.
I dreamed about my mother,
Dear old papa, sister and brother,
I dreamed about that girl
Whos been waiting for so long.
I wanna go home, I wanna go home,
Oh, how I wanna go home!
Home, folks think Im big in detroit city.
From the letters that I write, they think Im fine.
But by day, I make the cars,
And by night I make the bars,
If only they could read between the lines!
[spoken]
You know,
I rode a freight train north to detroit city.
After all these years,
I find that Ive just been wastin my time.
So I just think Ill take my foolish pride,
Put on a south bound freight and ride,
Goin back to the love ones,
The ones I left waitin so far behind.
I wanna go home, I wanna go home,
Oh, how I want to go home
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Detroit City
You know last night I went to sleep in detroit city
And I dreamed about those cotton fields and home
I dreamed about my mother, dear old papa, sisters and brothers
And I dreamed about a love whos been waiting there so long
I want to go home
I want to go home
Oh how I want to go home
My kinfolks think Im big in detraoit city
From all the letters that I write, they think Im fine
By day I make the cars
But, by night I make all the bars
Oh if only theys just read between the lines
Theyd know I want to go home
I want to go home
Oh how I want to go home
You know I rode a freight train north to detroit city
And after all these years I find Ive been wasting my time
Think Ill put my foolish pride on a southbound train and ride
Heading back to the loved ones I left there waiting behind
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Panic In Detroit
Ah oooh
He looked a lot like che guevara, drove a diesel van
Kept his gun in quiet seclusion, such a humble man
The only survivor of the national peoples gang
Panic in detroit, I asked for an autograph
He wanted to stay home, I wish someone would phone
Panic in detroit (oh oh oh aahh, oh oh oh aahh)
He laughed at accidental sirens that broke the evening gloom
The police had warned of repercussions
They followed none too soon
A trickle of strangers were all that were left alive
Panic in detroit, I asked for an autograph
He wanted to stay home, I wish someone would phone
Panic in detroit (oh oh oh aahh, ah ah ah aahh)
Putting on some clothes I made my way to school
(oh oh oh)
And I found my teacher crouching in his overalls
I screamed and ran to smash my favourite slot machine (oh oh oh)
And jumped the silent cars that slept at traffic lights
Having scored a trillion dollars, made a run back home
Found him slumped across the table. a gun and me alone
I ran to the window. looked for a plane or two
Panic in detroit. hed left me an autograph
Let me collect dust. I wish someone would phone
Panic in detroit
Panic in detroit
Panic in detroit
Aoo
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Detroit
(ian hunter)
(transcribed by nicole apostola)
He used to ride through the streets, crying through the alleyway
Freezing cold in the early morning light
Out to get a salary
Detroit, detroit
Tv image ain't gonna pay the bills
Big big cars
Detroit, detroit
The fan
Detroit, detroit
Big big shots
Got their heads in the sand
The usual
(buzzing cars noises from ian)
You're late
Detroit, detroit
He's a working man
Ghost town
Ghost town
(indistinguishable sounds, laughs)
The loneliest man in the world
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Detroit (Out Take 5 - Vocal)
(ian hunter)
(transcribed by nicole apostola)
He used to ride through the streets, crying through the alleyway
Freezing cold in the early morning light
Out to get a salary
Detroit, detroit
Tv image aint gonna pay the bills
Big big cars
Detroit, detroit
The fan
Detroit, detroit
Big big shots
Got their heads in the sand
The usual
(buzzing cars noises from ian)
Youre late
Detroit, detroit
Hes a working man
Ghost town
Ghost town
(indistinguishable sounds, laughs)
The loneliest man in the world
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On A Seven-Day Diary
Oh I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
and ate and talked and went to sleep.
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
from work and ate and slept.
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
and ate and watched a show and slept.
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
and ate steak and went to sleep.
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
and ate and fucked and went to sleep.
Then it was Saturday, Saturday, Saturday!
Love must be the reason for the week!
We went shopping! I saw clouds!
The children explained everything!
I could talk about the main thing!
What did I drink on Saturday night
that lost the first, best half of Sunday?
The last half wasn't worth this 'word.'
Then I got up and went to work
and worked and came back home
from work and ate and went to sleep,
refreshed but tired by the weekend.
poem by Alan Dugan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Work - the cycle
Wake, work, home, eat sleep
This cycle keeps on and on
As the time it takes is so long
Wake, work, home, eat sleep
Wake work home eat sleep
This cycle don’t seem at all to end
All your life in work you seem to spend
Wake work home eat sleep
Wake work home eat sleep
You start to see your life is slipping away
As people no longer around you stay
Wake work home eat sleep
Wake work home eat sleep
I’m surprised now I’m even getting time to eat
It would be bliss to stop rest my feet
Wake work home eat sleep
Wake work home eat sleep
You doing so many hours you feel ill
And you keep doing the cycle still
Wake work home eat sleep
Wake work home eat sleep
People bosses customers just keep adding more
You start to long for sleep and to snore
Wake work home eat sleep
Wake work home eat sleep
Something drastic happens the cycle breaks
And that all that it really takes
Wake work home eat sleep no more., ….
Work To Do
I cant wait to get home to you
I got so much work to do, work
Im taking care of business baby cant you see
I goota make it for you, and I gotta make it for me
Sometimes it may seem boy Im neglecting you
But Id love to spend more time
But I got so much to do
Ooh, I got work to do, I got work baby
I got work to do, I got a job yeah
I got work to do, said I got work to do
Oh Im out here trying to make it baby cant you see
It takes a lot of money to make it lets talk truthfully
So keep your love light burning
Oh you gotta have a little faith
You might as well get used to me coming home a little late, oh
Ooh, I got work to do, I got work baby
I got work to do, I got a job yeah
I got work to do, said I got work to do
I cant wait to get home to you
I got so much work to do
Written by isley/isley/isley
song performed by by Vanessa Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loving The Light Nights
The light summer nights are here at last;
The spirit of winter has finally passed.
Now, when I leave work, the sky is blue;
Until recently, it had a much darker hue.
On many a morning, there is a misty haze,
Then, during the day, the sun will blaze.
Now that the days are getting a little longer,
My soul, within, feels so much stronger.
When I walked home: when it was dark,
I never dared to walk through the park.
Now, there is nowhere for shadows to lurk,
As, in the daylight, I walk home from work.
Now, when a day's work has taken its toll,
Through the park, I feel happy to stroll.
In the light, the park is a pleasant place to be;
Enjoyed by everyone, up to a hundred and three.
Now, I often see other people in the park too,
And, no intimidating teens are within my view.
In winter, when it was dark, by late afternoon,
Teenagers got drunk, and litter was strewn.
I hated walking home, when the light had gone;
For it to be dark at 5pm, just seems so wrong.
It's lovely to be able to walk home in the light,
When, sometimes, the sun is still burning bright.
I love it when summertime officially starts;
I feel much happier: there's hope in my heart.
I would love long evenings for all of the year;
For the long summer nights, let's give a cheer!
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heaven
[Kracker]
If Heaven ain't alot like Detroit
I don't wanna go
If Heaven ain't alot like Detroit
I just a soon stay home
If they ain't got no Eight Mile
Like they do up in the D
Just send me to Hell or Salt Lake City
It would be about the same to me
It would be about the same to me
[Paradime]
Detroit city
From Aretha to Aaliyah
To Bob Segar to
Joe Louis n' his arena and now me
Paradime the mic of overachievers
Smokin sewer caps bottom feeders and parking meters
A bunch of bad dudes in the mad brew and tattoos
So think twice before you pass through
Or get clapped through whack crews get hurt
We can take you for a ride (ride)
Or take you for your shirt (shirt)
I did it in the Bronx
song performed by by Uncle Kracker from Double Wide
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dark Southern Skies
faded sign falling down
from an abandoned mill
mailboxes full of
unopened bills
houses with no curtains
old cars up on blocks
all the stores are empty
all the doors are locked
dark southern skies
no one's home anymore
no one hears the cry
no one sweeps the floor
man without work
his woman turns away
dark southern skies
and there's no one left to pray...
empty crib gathers dust
a Bible by the bed
workboots in the corner
with this ring i thee wed
pictures on the wall
dont answer in the night
and empty still looks empty
in the morning light
dark southern skies
no one's home anymore
no one hears the cry
no one sweeps the floor
man without work
his woman turns away
dark southern skies
there's no one left to pray....
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forty Hour Week
forty hour week (for a livin')
There are people in this country who work hard every day.
Not for fame or fortune do they strive.
But the fruits of their labor are worth more than their pay.
And it's time a few of them were recognized.
Hello detroit auto workers, let me thank you for your time.
You work a forty hour week for a livin', just to send it on down the line.
Hello pittsburgh steel mill workers, let me thank you for your time.
You work a forty hour week for a livin', just to send it on down the line.
This is for the one who swings the hammer, driving home the nail.
Or the one behind the counter, ringing up the sale.
Or the one who fights the fires, the one who brings the mail.
For everyone who works behind the scenes.
You can see them every morning in the factories and the fields.
In the city streets and the quiet country towns.
Working together like spokes inside a wheel.
They keep this country turning around.
Hello kansas wheat field farmer, let me thank you for your time.
You work a forty hour week for a livin', just to send it on down the line.
Hello west virginia coal miner, let me thank you for your time.
You work a forty hour week for a livin', just to send it on down the line.
This one is for the one who drives the big rig, up and down the road.
Or the one out in the warehouse, bringing in the load.
Or the waitress, the mechanic, the policeman on patrol.
For everyone who works behind the scenes.
With a spirit you can't replace with no machine.
Hello, america,
Let me thank you for your time.
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Home work
sometimesa my home work is small
sometimes my home work is long
but when ever i do my home work
it is always wrong
sometimes i do my home work at a low pace
sometimes i do my homework at a lfast lane
but how ever i do my homework
my homework is still a pain
sometimes my homework is eazy
sometimes homework is hard
but whenever i can't do my homework
i feel like a retard
by
mehwish shakeel
poem by Mehwish Shakeel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Day In Day Out
in the morning you work
the work is dull till you see her
with hair as golden as the sun
a face that only compairs to the gods
the day gose quickly and you go home
though you only think of her
the worker known as the boss
you see her in the dark and
in the light but you are sleeping
next to your wife
the next day you go to work
though you find know one
that has a face that more
gorgeous as a god
or hair as golden as the sun
insted you find that the goddess
with the hair as golden as the sun
the face that makes even the god jelouse
never egsisted but in your mind
though when you get home
your eye go as wide as tho sun
when you see the face that make god jelouse
is the one that you married shes your wife
so you see her every night with flower in hand
for the ladie with the golden hair
poem by Daniel Thompson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Day In Day Out
in the morning you work
the work is dull till you see her
with hair as golden as the sun
a face that only compares to the gods
the day goes quickly and you go home
though you only think her
the worker known as the boss
you see her in the dark and
in the light but you are sleeping
next to your wife
the next day you go to work
though you find know one
that has a face that more
gorgeous as a god
or hair as golden as the sun
poem by Aaron Dacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Payment
A tortuous path of neurons arced a call: ‘Awake! ’
I did; in rising, peering, stretching, bearing,
Pained anticipation saw it all:
Foretold, another filthy day.
I drew the drape: diluvian lay the ground
Beneath a lazy leaden cloud – apissing out
The puddles; irksome on the roof –
The drumming drops of bitter glee
Were hounding out a hapless me –
Reinforcing doubt that I am sound.
I left the house
to go to work
to earn a crust
without a perk
then on to bust
another straining vessel.
Trudging on thro’ mud and clay, I pondered:
‘Why a drought of happy times?
Auspicious climes were
Old and fusty books
Atop a dusty shelf
Inside a morgue-of-a-room,
Somewhere in a long-forgotten library
Down a lane without a way.’
I thought again: ‘And still I pay.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
O how I
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
work work work work work work work work
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fly Away Home
The bells toll for you today
To fly to your new home in
Yonder sky..
Spread your wings and fly
From down here below,
So, fly away home
Oh, fly away home
To your new home in
Yonder sky..
Our hearts are broken and
We fill so blue,
Many tears has been shred
For miss you so
We know you have pass through
Heavens gates
Your journey was hard but the
Bell toll
For you to come home in yonder
Sky..
So, fly away home
Oh, fly away home
Your great work you accomplished
Down here below
Have been awarded
Your memory will never fade
So, fly away home
Oh, fly away home
To your new home in yonder
Sky..
If I had not died I would have
Been a gospel singer..
But since I’d died I will sing
In the heavenly choir..
So, fly away home
Oh, fly away home...
poem by Carolyn Sears
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Home:
Home…
Home is where you were born.
Home is where you were raised,
Home is were you grew up,
Home was what had shaped you,
Home is what gave you your foundation
And what help you grow into something amazing,
Home is what you left behind to become something bigger,
Home is what you remember many years after leaving,
Home is what you become missing for,
Home is where you crave to be when you're done with you adventures,
Even thought you left home, for another place,
Home has never left,
It's still there,
On the same old street,
With the same old lawn,
With the same old people,
Just waiting there,
For you and only you,
It is there for you and only you,
Because with out it,
Without a home,
You wouldn't have a place to go back to,
A place was you can call your own..well, home...
poem by Sherry Painter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Something To Get Done For Somebody
Many people have done one thing,
Most of their lives.
Get up-go to work-and go home!
Get up-go to work-and go home!
Get up-go to work-and go home!
Until they are awarded a gift...
To show an appreciation,
For their dedicated madness.
Those who make it.
Those who are downsized with jobs outsourced...
Their loyalty gets them a pink slip.
Or a promise to fit them in anywhere.
If there is space left.
And if they don't mind sitting behind a brick wall,
To put in their time for a lower pay.
And to keep in mind...
They still have jobs that accomplishes 'something'.
Something to get done for somebody!
Until the time comes to retire from it.
Or get fired.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Detroit City
Me and Iggy were giggin' with Ziggy and kickin' with the MC5
Ted and Seger were burnin' with fever
And let the Silver Bullets fly
The Kid was in his crib, Shady wore a bib
And the Posse wasn't even alive
Shock rock choppin' block, songs to make your heart stop
Shovin' it in to overdrive
Playing loud and fast
Make that guitar blast
Playing like today will be your last...
Well I was born there
Gonna die there
With all my long hair
Detroit City
You feel your heart beat
You hit the concrete
Dance the mean street
Detroit City
There's a riot raging downtown
Tryin' to burn the place down
Skies glowin' red and gray
But the Riff kept a rockin'
The Creem kept a talkin'
And the streets still smokin' today
Playing loud and fast
Make that guitar blast
Playing like today will be your last...
Well I was born there
Probably die there
With all my long hair
Detroit City
You feel your heart beat
You hit the concrete
Dance the mean streets
Detroit City
Six mile seven mile eight mile nine mile ten mile eleven mile
Detroit City
Louder
Faster
Louder
Detroit City
Well, I was born there
Gonna die there
We don't belong here
Detroit City
You feel your heart beat
Hit the concrete
Dance the mean street
Detroit City
Well, I was born there
Probably die there
With all my long hair
Detroit City
You feel your heart beat
You hit the concrete
Dance the mean street
Detroit City
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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