En.Citatepedia^®.ro

And The Walls Fell Down

When morning time breaks
My lonely heart aches, yeah
But no one I touch
Can tell me how much
A lonely heart takes
Cause the walls fell down
And the seas will drown
But nobody listens to my song
And the storm just broke
And the rain came down
But nobody listens to a clown
I look for your light
By day and by night
Im wasting my time
Just trying to find
Your face in my life
Cause the walls fell down
And the seas will drown
But nobody listens to my song
And the storm just broke
And the rain came down
But nobody listens to a clown
Cause the walls fell down
And the seas will drown
But nobody listens to my song
And the storm just broke
And the rain came down
But nobody listens to a clown (fade out)

song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lifeboy

Swinging on the lifeline
Fraying bits of twine
Entangled in the remnants of the
Knot I left behind
And asking you to help me make it
Finally unwind
But God never listens to what I say
God never listens to what I say
And you dont get a refund
If you overpray
And when the line is breaking
And when Im near the end
When all the time spent leading
Ive been following instead
When all my thoughts and memories are
Left hanging by a thread
God never listens...
Stranded on this slender string
The minutes seem to last a lifetime
Dangling here between the light above
And blue below that drags me down
But God never listens to what I say
God never listens to what I say
And you dont get a refund
If you overpray

song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She Talks About Love

Once in a lifetime....
Down at the end, the end of the line
There's a girl who waits for love
She is the one he's hoping for
But there's another one she's thinking of
She doesn't know his name, doesn't know his face
She'll recognize the feeling in any case
She'll be swept away by the flies inside
Make her beautiful, make her come alive
She talks about love, nobody listens
She talks about love, nobody cares
She talks about love, nobody listens
She talks about love, she believes in love
She falls and she falls but never laughs
In the arms of the one she wants
Fights for a dream she's never seen
In a world of rocks and stones
Ands she knows it's there, knows it does exist
A feeling oh so real, almost divine bliss
Takes her breath away, a gem beyond compare
Makes her weak in the knees, she knows that love is rare
She talks about love, nobody listens
She talks about love, nobody cares
She talks about love, nobody listens
She talks about love, she believes in love
The measure of time
Will prevent what's mine
She believes in once upon a time
Once in a lifetime
She talks about love, nobody listens
She talks about love, nobody cares
She talks about love, nobody listens
She talks about love, she believes in love
She talks about love, nobody listens
She talks about love, nobody cares
She talks about love, nobody listens
She talks about love, she believes in love

song performed by by Vitamin C
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As One Listens To The Rain

Listen to me as one listens to the rain,
not attentive, not distracted,
light footsteps, thin drizzle,
water that is air, air that is time,
the day is still leaving,
the night has yet to arrive,
figurations of mist
at the turn of the corner,
figurations of time
at the bend in this pause,
listen to me as one listens to the rain,
without listening, hear what I say
with eyes open inward, asleep
with all five senses awake,
it's raining, light footsteps, a murmur of syllables,
air and water, words with no weight:
what we are and are,
the days and years, this moment,
weightless time and heavy sorrow,
listen to me as one listens to the rain,
wet asphalt is shining,
steam rises and walks away,
night unfolds and looks at me,
you are you and your body of steam,
you and your face of night,
you and your hair, unhurried lightning,
you cross the street and enter my forehead,
footsteps of water across my eyes,
listen to me as one listens to the rain,
the asphalt's shining, you cross the street,
it is the mist, wandering in the night,
it is the night, asleep in your bed,
it is the surge of waves in your breath,
your fingers of water dampen my forehead,
your fingers of flame burn my eyes,
your fingers of air open eyelids of time,
a spring of visions and resurrections,
listen to me as one listens to the rain,
the years go by, the moments return,
do you hear the footsteps in the next room?
not here, not there: you hear them
in another time that is now,
listen to the footsteps of time,
inventor of places with no weight, nowhere,
listen to the rain running over the terrace,
the night is now more night in the grove,
lightning has nestled among the leaves,
a restless garden adrift-go in,
your shadow covers this page.

poem by Octavio Paz
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Unicorn 9

For most of those who are graced to see it, the vision’s enough –
they bring humility, are still, drink in
this creature, which for a space of time
is in this world, and yet not of this world,
who shows them who they are, and always were –
so what is known, is known; they leave its presence
as themselves.

but some find it’s quite natural to speak,
as one might bear a sacrifice in outstretched arms
of all that is and is not of themselves.
That glorious creature does not speak; but listens:
listens with, as if, the one point of its horn which brings
its ears to its eyes; gazes as it listens; a gentle, mild, sweet gaze;
listens, gazes, with its whole wise, understanding presence;

and having spoken, or not spoken, all leave
as themselves; knowing themselves to have
the whole universe as their measure.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Untitled: With rosy stages

With rosy stages the stone sinks in the moor

Song of gliding and black laughter

Figures go in and out of rooms

And death grins bony in black boat.

Pirate on the canal in the red wine

Whose mast and sail often broke in the storm.

Drowned ones bump purple against the rock

Of the bridges. Steely the call of the guards clangs.

But sometimes, the glance listens in the candlelight

And follows the shadows on decayed walls

And dancers are with sleep-devoured hands.

The night, that breaks blackly on your head

And dead people who turn over in beds

Grasp the marble with broken hands.

poem by Georg Trakl
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Her Best Friend

He left a message on her voicemail
She saved it and she listens
She listens and burns.
She is a fool
Such a fool!

An innocent knee
Pressed against hers
Sets her alight where they touch
She is a fool
Such a fool

She listens to his beautiful words,
And lets them flow to the middle of her heart,
As she stares at the base of his throat.
She is a fool,
Such a fool

As soon as he leaves her
She feels a universe of hidden sentiments
Descend upon her tongue
She is a fool,
Because...because....

She shares him with so many just like her,
And she's the easy target amongst them all.
Alas...he'll have her gentle heart forever,
Because she is a fool
Only a fool.

© 2012

poem by Ruby Honeytip
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My Visitors This Morning

she comes early this morning
blue all over
and i give her tea and let her speak what is in her mind.

like she is a storm today,
she has given me turbulence, speaking about how abuse
can be inflicted, verbal physical emotional, against her
a woman of virtue
and intellect, she sips the tea and breaks some cookies
her breakfast today, and she continues about
what he did to her

i am listening then the door bell rings
it is him, and he gets another tea
for sympathy and he listens to her outpouring too,
these kinds of abuse
inflicted by one to another
getting to be
so normal an occurrence, that everyone seems to accept
without question,

she is his wife
the man has white hair, and balding, and his shirt
is not well ironed, his face still unwashed,
wrinkles on his face,

she is complaining about his abuses on her person
and he merely listens
and he wants to explain how these matters started
and how they may not be true
how violent can she become
when provoked by her
mood swings

her face changes from calm to something
you will not like
and she does what you may now believe
because she kicks him
she slaps him

and he merely listens
i guess, that explains the mess, that this couple
now intruding my privacy, has found themselves into,

i tell them i have other things to do today,
and since their tea is consumed, then they must now take
their leave

my morning is not that great, actually, i do not like it
and them too.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sea and oceans

I trust in the sea.
I trust in the deep blue seas and oceans.
I trust in these becuase they can help me.
They can take me out of this world.

The seas are my friend.
When I go there I feel at peace.
If I die in the sea it'll be quick.
I can not swim.
But I am a bit dim.

The seas I'm now in.
Ready to drown.
You may think I am a clown.

But I am serious.
At sea I shall drown.

poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Well I am grooming him, he has a boxing trainer that knows what he is talking about, and once he has that he is able to put everything together and he listens, and when somebody listens they are able to accomplish anything.

quote by Michael Moorer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blister

Lately I cant breathe
Waiting theyre chasing me
No one listens but Im ok with it
Only I wonder why
If only my hands werent tied
The worlds a blister
But Im ok with it
What if I was there
What if I was scared
Im waiting for...
Theyre at my door
But Ill be back again
Lonely, Im wandering
Patrolling for enemies
No one listens but Im ok with it

song performed by by Our Lady Peace
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Nightingale Near The House

Here is the soundless cypress on the lawn:
It listens, listens. Taller trees beyond
Listen. The moon at the unruffled pond
Stares. And you sing, you sing.

That star-enchanted song falls through the air
From lawn to lawn down terraces of sound,
Darts in white arrows on the shadowed ground;
And all the night you sing.

My dreams are flowers to which you are a bee
As all night long I listen, and my brain
Receives your song, then loses it again
In moonlight on the lawn.

Now is your voice a marble high and white,
Then like a mist on fields of paradise,
Now is a raging fire, then is like ice,
Then breaks, and it is dawn.

poem by Harold Monro
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It's Not So Funny

Walking 'round the town with nothing to do
Rock-n-roll ringin' in my ears
Why ajust my mind, just singin' the blues
Got to find a way out of here
It's not so funny
Just a kid, nobody listens to me
Ain't got no money to do what I want
Somethin's got to set me free
You say when you grow up you'll have what you want
And everything that you need
What is the use of having it all
If you listen and never be seen
It's not so funny
Just a kid, nobody listens to me
Ain't got the money to do what I want
Somethin's got to set me free
If I could suddenly be older
I'd show them all and bring them down to my size
My parents tell me you're not the only one
There's a lot of kids around like you
If all of us kids got together for fun
We'd show you a thing or two
No no no
It's not so funny
Just a kid, nobody listens to me
Ain't got no money to do what I want
Somethin's got to set me free
It's not so funny
Just a kid, nobody listens to me
Ain't got no money to do what I want
Somethin's got to set me free
It's not so funny
I ain't got no money
It's not so funny
I ain't got no money
It's not so funny

song performed by by Quiet Riot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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427

All of her days have gone soft and cloudy
All of her dreams have gone dry
All of her nights have gone sad and shady
She’s getting ready to fly

Fly away, fly away, fly away

Life in the city can make you crazy
For sounds of the sand and the sea
Life in a high-rise can make you hungry
For things that you can’t even see

Fly away, fly away, fly away

In this whole world there’s nobody as lonely as she
There’s nowhere to go and there’s nowhere that she’d rather be

She’s looking for lovers and children playing
She’s looking for signs of the spring
She listens for laughter and sounds of dancing
She listens for any old thing

Fly away, fly away, fly away

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Jerome

Each day brings its toad, each night its dragon.
Der heilige Hieronymus--his lion is at the zoo--
Listens, listens. All the long, soft, summer day
Dreams affright his couch, the deep boils like a pot.
As the sun sets, the last patient rises,
Says to him, Father, trembles, turns away.

Often, to the lion, the saint said, Son.
To the man the saint says--but the man is gone.
Under a plaque of Gradiva, at gloaming.
The old man boils an egg. When he has eaten
He listens a while. The patients have not stopped.
At midnight, he lies down where his patients lay.

All night the old man whispers to the night.
It listens evenly. The great armored paws
Of its forelegs put together in reflection.
It thinks: Where Ego was, there Id shall be.
The world wrestles with it and is changed into it
And after a long time changes it. The dragon

Listens as the old man says, at dawn: I see
--There is an old man, naked in a desert, by a cliff.
He has set out his books, his hat, his ink, his shears
Among scorpions, toads, the wild beasts of the desert.
I lie beside him--I am a lion.
He kneels listening. He holds in his left hand

The stone with which he beats his breat, and holds
In his right hand, the pen with which he puts
Into his book, the words of the angel:
The angel up into whose face he looks.
But the angel does not speak. He looks into the face
Of the night, and the night says--but the night is gone.

He has slept. . . . At morning, when man's flesh is young
And man's soul thankful for it knows not what,
The air is washed, and smells of boiling coffee,
And the sun lights it. The old man walks placidly
To the grocer's; walks on, under leaves, in light,
To a lynx, a leopard--he has come;

The man holds out a lump of liver to the lion,
And the lion licks the man's hand with his tongue.

poem by Randall Jarrell
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I Tell You Now I'm Not The One Who You Think I Am

Being of the top I never wanted
Take it, and be gone satans son
For I am not who you want.
Of great intellects I'm not
I see my self as a hack
Because someone says your good
This is not what I do
Only as a hobby I keep telling you
But know one listens.
No one ever listens.
In time it is something I shall not be missing
Let them be the poe's
Let them be the blake's
Let them be the shakespear's and frost's
For I am not them and care nothing for the fame
I hate it, as Bob Dylan hates his fans
I tell you now I'm not the one who you think I am
I most of all hate the censorship that comes with it.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Lonely Talk

By chuck sabatino and michael mcdonald
From a promise to a lie
From lies to regret
Turn your back on truth baby
And thats always what you get
A man could drown in a love so deep baby
Im not beggin you to stay
Its just lonely talk
You dont hear a word I say
You just turn and walk away baby
If Im on my knees and prayin
To the lord above
When he listens to my prayer
He knows that its just lonely talk
Well, I call your name
And I cry all night
Well, its of no concern to you baby
Now that Im out of your sight
A man could drown in a love so deep baby

song performed by by Michael Mcdonald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fly Away

(john denver)
All of her days have gone soft and cloudy
All of her dreams have gone dry
All of her nights have gone sad and shady
Shes getting ready to fly
Fly away, fly away, fly away
Life in the city can make you crazy
For sounds of the sand and the sea
Life in a high-rise can make you hungry
For things that you cant even see
Fly away, fly away, fly away
In this whole world theres nobody as lonely as she
Theres nowhere to go and theres nowhere that shed rather be
Shes looking for lovers and children playing
Shes looking for signs of the spring
She listens for laughter and sounds of dancing
She listens for any old thing
Fly away, fly away, fly away

song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mind has no logic

I am averse to my son-in-law.
He never listens to my daughter.
I am averse to my daughter-in- law.
My son listens more to her.

Mind is idiotic, no use of logic.
30.11.2001, Pakd

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Solitary One

You know it gets too much and sometimes she cries like a baby
But shes almost certain itll pass when she becomes a lady
But while shes still a young girl love is avoiding her
And thank God for the radio and the color tv, oh, oh, oh, oh
Heroes are hard to find in the cold world but not in her mind
And shes talking to jesus during the radio station breaks
And shes on her knees, pourin on her knees
Asking how the world can be so cold to her
And she listens to the records, playing on the radio
And shes falling in love with a singer
Now shes feelin better and shes feelin good
But shes coming down by the time the song is over
And she starts feelin lonely
Feelin shes the only ordinary solitary one
All alone the solitary one
And hurrying home oh God its been one of those bad days
But with a flick of a switch and a twist of the dial
She gets love on the airwaves
And they send her favorite lovers to keep her satisfied
And shes talkin to jesus during the radio station breaks
And shes on her knees falling on her knees
Asking how the world can be so cold to her
And she listens to the records playing on the radio and shes fallin
In love with a singer
Now shes feelin better cause shes feelin good
But shes comin down by the time the song is over
And she starts feelin lonely
Feelin shes the only ordinary the solitary one all alone solitary one
And shes on her knees pouring on her knees
Asking how the world can be so cold to her
And she starts feelin lonely
Feelin shes the only ordinary solitary one
All alone the solitary one
All alone the solitary one
All alone the solitary one
All alone the solitary one

song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hoping For Footsteps (Stream XV)

Her door ajar, I try to slide past
Know from the past
That she listens.
Lonely she listens,
Listens in hope,
Hoping for footsteps
Stepping her way.
She catches me on the stairs
Me stacked with laundry.
She expectant,
Stands with folded arms,
A shelf for her ample bosom,
Blocking my way.
'Done your washing then? '
'Um' I say noncommittally
But now she has her opening
And opening her mouth
Tells tales of progeny
And their progeny.
She lives her life vicariously
For they live far off
Only seen on high-days and holidays.
I Listen,
Watch her wattles
Shake and quiver
As she delivers, what to her, is vital news,
Which is no news.
This sad cackling hen.
I feel stuck between the stairs and the stars
No where to bolt.
No bolt hole,
I half listen
Nodding.
Nodding off
Smiling I shake her off.
'Sorry very busy, must go' I say.
A lie.
Later I think-
How sad.
To be the single highlight of her day.

poem by Paul Brookes
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