En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Workout Plan

Some girls are all about
wishing things would've worked out
or wondering why
things didn't work out
don't work out
won't work out
or if only this
or that
then things would've worked out.
It's as if instead of working things out
and things working out
all they really wanted was a good workout
I guess just let them
work themselves out
cause I just want things to work out
if that's cool

poem by Brandon Adamson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Work To Do!

i came from a generation
that worked.... was born to
work, daylight to dawn,
for everything we had.
we grew our own food, we
cut firewood, we worked
with our hands.
we were taught to work...
we built houses, bridges,
paved roads... worked on
farms, worked in sawmills,
worked in factories...
whatever it took for food
and shelter...
and if a neighbor got hurt,
or sick, and couldnt work...
we helped him and his family
till he could.

those of us left who can work
are still working, a lot of us are
out of work, and cant find work!

and so the world has changed...
it seems like a lot of people
spend more time avoiding work
than working... a lot of people
look for the easy way out...are
dependent on society...
still a lot of good and willing people
just need help.

they call this progress...based
on technology, and looking out for
number one. seperated, almost islands...
greed has taken the place of the bent back!

so when it all falls apart, and that will
be soon, what happens? who knows how
to survive? who has the backbone?

things to think about, and yes...
work to do!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Everything She Wants

Somebody told me
Boy everything she wants is everything she sees
I guess i must have loved you
Because i said you were the perfect girl for me, baby
And now we're six months older
And everything you want and everything you see
Is out of reach not good enough
I don't know what the hell you want from me
Somebody tell me
(won't you tell me)
Why i work so hard for you
(to give you money, work to give you money)
Some people work for a living
Some people work for fun
Girl i just work for you
They told me marriage was give and take
Well you've shown me you can take
You've got some giving to do
And now you tell me that your having my baby
I'll tell you that i'm happy if you want me to
But one step further and my back will break
If my best isn't good enough
Then how can it be good enough for two
I can't work any harder than i do
Somebody tell me
(won't you tell me)
Why i work so hard for you
(to give you money, work to give you money)
Oh why do i do the things i do
I'd tell you if i knew
My god, i don't even think that i love you
(won't you tell me)
(to give you money, work to give you money)
How could you settle
For a boy like me
When all i could see
Was the end of the week
All the things we sign
And the things we buy
Ain't gonna keep us together
It's just a matter of time
My situation
Never changes
Walking in and out of that door
Like a stranger
For the wages
I give you all
You say you want more
And all i could see
Was the end of the week
All the things we sign
And the things we buy
Ain't gonna keep us together
Girl it's just a matter of time

song performed by by George Michael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All Day

Well Im hiding my eyes from the morning sun
And I keep on working till the work is all done
But a voice in my head keeps ticking away
As the sweats hosed down from yet another day
Well he works hard
And he lives hard
And he breaks his back without nothing to gain
While the boss man sits around and drinks champagne
All day (you work and you work and you work and)
In life, theres just one transition
All day (you work and you work and you work and)
In life, theres just one decision
Well Im peeling the blisters off my working hand
Is that what it takes to make you understand?
That its something you read, not something you meant
To be slaving away without a shred of integrity
He worked hard
And he lived hard
And he broke his back without nothing to say
While the man in control was just laughing away
All day (you work and you work and you work and)
In life, theres just one transition
All day (you work and you work and you work and)
In life, theres just one decision
Was it something you read?
Was it something you meant?
Was it something you said?
Or was it heaven sent?
All day (you work and you work and you work and)
In life, theres just one transition
All day (you work and you work and you work and)
In life, theres just one decision

song performed by by Ministry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good and Bad

Good are the things
That are proved to be helpful
Bad are the things
That are proved to be harmful
God knows best
What is good for us
And what is bad for us!
That’s why
We should listen to God.

In the eyes of God:
Good work is ten times better
Than bad work
Good work is like gold
And bad work is like cotton

Bad is an inseparable part of God
Just like good is!
God’s body is the Best
And Satan is the worst.

The closer we are to the Best
The luckier we are
The stronger we are
The better we are to the rest.

poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Four Letter 'Work' Song

Work me up, work me out, work me flip side down.
Work me here, work me there, work me with renown.
Work me hot, work me greedy,
work me through and through.
Work me to the very marrow,
work me just like I'd work you.
Work me proud, work me late,
work me do not hesitate.
Won't you let me work for you?
Work me til I'm black and blue.
Work me steady, work me needy, work me to a lather.
Work me til my backbone breaks, and the buzzards gather.
Work me in, work me under, work me til I bleed,
Work me over red hot coals, work me like a boss in need.
Work me nasty, work me silly, work me through the clover.
Up down, 'n' in between, into a slipknot sweet Jehovah.
Work me, work me, go ahead.
Work me, work me, til I'm dead.

Buddy Bee Anthony

poem by Buddy Bee Anthony
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Work

WHEN I am busying about,
Sewing on buttons, tapes, and strings,
Hanging the week's wet washing out
Or ironing the children's things,
Sweeping and dusting, cleaning grates,
Scrubbing the dresser or the floors,
Washing the greasy dinner plates,
Scouring the brasses on the doors--

I wonder what it's all about,
And when did people first begin
To keep the dirt and wornness out
And keep the wholesome comfort in:
How long it is since women bore
This round of wash and make and mend,
And what God makes us do it for
And whether it will ever end!

When God began to do His work
He made a new thing every day--
Even now He is not one to shirk,
But makes things, always some new way
He made the earth, and sky, and sun,
The creatures of the sea and wood,
And when his first week's work was done
He saw that it was very good.

But He--for all He worked so fast
To finish air, and wave, and shore,
Knew that this work of His would last
For ever and for evermore.
On Saturday night He was content,
He knew that Monday would not bring
Need for another firmament,
Another set of everything.

But though my work is easier far
Than making sky and sea and sun,
It's harder than God's labours are,
Because my work is never done.
I sweep and churn, save and contrive,
I bake and brew, I don't complain,
But every Monday morning I've
Last Monday's work to do again.

I'm good at work--I work away;
Always the same my work must go;
The flowers grow different every day,
That's why I like to see them grow.
If, up in Heaven, God understood
He'd let me for my Paradise
Make all things new and very good
And never make the same thing twice!

poem by Edith Nesbit
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Things Are Getting Better

Well I worked for a week and I got no pay.
(things getting better.)
Well my babys coming back home to stay
(things getting better.)
Well shes coming back home, but I havent got a dime
(things getting better.)
But Ive got my love to keep me fine[? ].
(things getting better.)
Oh-oh
Things getting better.
Things getting better.
Well since my babys been away,
(things getting better.)
Well things got worse from day to day.
(things getting better.)
Well now my babys come back to me.
(things getting better.)
Yeah, itll get better, wait and see.
(things getting better.)
Oh-oh
Things getting better.
Things getting better.
Oh-oh
Things getting better.
Things getting better.
Well I pawned my watch and I sold my car.
(things getting better.)
The money Ive got wouldnt get me far.
(things getting better.)
But I dont mind now that youve packed.
(things getting better.)
Its a fact, that
Things getting better.
Things getting better.
Oh-oh
Things getting better.
Things getting better.

song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Things Work Out

Because it rains when we wish it wouldn't,
Because men do what they often shouldn't,
Because crops fail, and plans go wrong-
Some of us grumble all day long.
But somehow, in spite of the care and doubt,
It seems at last that things work out.

Because we lose where we hoped to gain,
Because we suffer a little pain,
Because we must work when we'd like to play-
Some of us whimper along life's way.
But somehow, as day always follows the night,
Most of our troubles work out all right.

Because we cannot forever smile,
Because we must trudge in the dust awhile,
Because we think that the way is long-
Some of us whimper that life's all wrong.
But somehow we live and our sky grows bright,
And everything seems to work out all right.

So bend to your trouble and meet your care,
For the clouds must break, and the sky grow fair.
Let the rain come down, as it must and will,
But keep on working and hoping still.
For in spite of the grumblers who stand about,
Somehow, it seems, all things work out.

poem by Edgar Albert Guest
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Work

Andy was a catholic
The ethic ran through his bones
He lived alone with his mother
Collecting gossip and toys
Every sunday when he went to church
Hed kneel in his pew and say
Its work
All that matters is work
He was a lot of things
What I remember most hed say
Ive got to bring home the bacon
Someones got to bring home the roast
Hed get to the factory early
If youd ask him hed tell you straight out
Its work
No matter what I did it never seemed enough
He said I was lazy, I said I was young
He said, how many songs did you write
Id written zero, Id lied and said, ten
You wont be young forever
You should have written fifteen
Its work
You ought to make things big
People like it that way
And the songs with the dirty words
Make sure your record them that way
Andy liked to stir up trouble
He was funny that way
He said, its just work
Andy sat down to talk one day
He said decide what you want
Do you want to expand your parameters
Or play museums like some dilettante
I fired him on the spot
He got red and called me a rat
It was the worst word that he could think of
And Ive never seen him like that
Its work
I thought he said its just work
Andy said a lot of things
I stored them all away in my head
Sometimes when I cant decide what I should do
I think what would andy have said
Hed probably say you think too much
Thats cause theres work that you dont want to do
Its work
The most important thing is work
Its work
The most important thing is work

song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Color Drains From My Face;

and I lose my place
and everything that made me,
the person I used to be
bleeds out of me,
into a puddle on the floor
to be looked at
and watched for
to make sure,
I don’t fall back into
old habits
die hard,
but I’ve given up
everything
for this
because with everything
I was
this wouldn’t work
this couldn’t work
and I swore
if it didn’t work
I’d make it work
and this is what it took.
and I’ll do all it takes
to fix who I was
and repair my mistakes
and if along the way,
I lose the worst of me;
I swear, I’ll be okay.
because sometimes change is all it takes,
when I’ve got such a wretched taste in my mouth
that I can only describe
as regret,
for all the things I know you’ll never forgive
and all the things I know you’ll never forget.

poem by Tiffani Williams
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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Work, Sleep, Work, Sleep, Work

Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work:

Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work.

Oh free me please with gentle ease
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work!
This odium, pounding tedium
Of my work, sleep, work, sleep, work.

Just whisk me off to lands afar
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
That grinding train of rhythmic pain
Called ‘Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.’

Poor neural circuits fizzle and pop
In work, sleep, work, sleep, work,
In trying to make some sense of all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.

But Hark! I see a golden gleam -
A saving spirit of hope:
‘You’re fired! ’ He screams. What news to bear,
This wondrous hangman’s rope!

So now I’m free, released from all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
Eternal peace and rest for me, no
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.

poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Complaint

Work never seems to end
day in-n-out working goes.
Please may I get a break some time
in the break, work seems to grow.

It is like the weeds I see
in the soil, they seem to grow.
How ever I may pluck them out;
they find there way again and sow.

Work-a-haloes is what my friend call me.
to them work is easy cake
But work in-n-out like me
and you’ll be a hockey stick.

Work-n-work-n-work I see
even work in everyday chores.
Oh! This work never seems to end
with me it also grows.

'17th June,2007'

poem by Gaurav Bhaduri
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Must Be An Easier Way

To earn one's living there must be an easier way
Than working in a menial job for menial pay
You age so fast your hair prematurely gray
And you must work hard till your retirement day.

When you ask the boss for a raise his answer no
For a raise in pay you must have more to show
The unemployed are many and the jobs are few
And there's plenty more to do the job you do.

At 5.30 a m each work day from bed I rise
Before daylight has lit the morning skies
Then long drive to work in smoky old work van
Such is the lot of the common working man.

The chap next door seems better off than I
He does not work yet life he does enjoy
Whilst I'm at work he rest at home in bed
And he doesn't look deprived or underfed

With six year old son and a non working wife
He live an easy and a stress free life
And I've heard it said that he's never worked a day
But good luck to him is all that I can say.

I do not receive or seek sympathy
For there are many far worse off than me
But living life would be a lot more fun
If I did not have to rise before the sun

poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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We & Dem

We no know how we and dem a-go work this out, oy!
We no know how we and dem a-go work it out.
But someone will ave to pay
For the innocent blood
That they shed every day,
Oh, children, mark my word;
Its what the Bible say, yeah! yeah!
Oh, we no know how we and dem a-go work this out;
We no know how we and dem a-go work it out.
But in the beginning jah created everythin (oo-oo-oo-oo-ooh),
Givin man dominion over all things.
But now its too late,
You see, men has lost their faith (oo-oo-oo-oo-ooh), hey-ey-hey!
Eating up all the flesh from off the earth, eh!
We no know how we and dem a-go work this out (we no know);
We no know how we and dem a-go work this out (no, we dont know);
Dub-da-dub-da-dub!
Dub-a-dippidi-doop-de-doo!
Nim-a-nummany num-na-noo!
Num-a-nummana-num-da-nay!
Dippy-dippy-dippy: dip-de-dub-de-day!
Dip-a-dubbada-dub-da-day!
But I say: we no know how we and dem a-go work it out:
Them a flesh and bone!
We no know how we and dem a-go work it out.
But we now have no friends
In-a high society, yea-a-eah!
We no have no friends;
Oh, mark my identity;
We no have no friends. oh-oh! yeah!
We no know how we and dem a-go work this out (no, we no know);
We no know how we and dem a-go work this out (we no know);
We no know how we and dem a-go work it out (no, we dont know);
(we no know how we and dem a-go work this out.) rasta!
(we no know how we and dem a-go work this out.) ilyabom! /fadeout/

song performed by by Bob Marley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Misplaced Souls

Momma can you still love me my life has gone so bad
With everything you taught me all the things I had
I guess that I forgot the parts the ones you said I'd need
The words you used for me to hear I guess I didn't heed

And now I am a beggar the beggar on the street
I guess I really screwed up this time no place to rest my feet
I'm the beggar on the street the one that you pass by
Disheveled clothes and matted hair so filthy to your eye

Sometimes I wonder how I got here it all came on so fast
One day I was just like you the next I needed gas
My car is where I live sometimes and others its a shack
I know to you I'm filthy and to me you'll turn your back

The sign I carry sometimes reads that I am 'Out of work'
Or maybe it will say to you 'A vet and I will work'
They mean the same I have no cash no assets do I have
A sign that reads 'Will work for food' is all I own or have

It wasn't supposed to be this way my plans and dreams they mattered
But somehow things did not work out the clothes I wear are tattered
The thing I want for others to know is that I'm still their brother
And all I want when said and done is to be home with my mother

poem by Daniel Lloyd Kennedy
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Those Days Are Over

I would rather work with you,
Than not.
I prefer it that way,
Without delay.
I'd like to keep the purpose fresh.
To minimize our togetherness...
Is an invitation for regret!

To be open to communicate,
I believe our efforts would achieve their best.
It eliminates the guess work.
And removes those steps created by pests.

To get things done...
Is the agenda I will keep!
And not a part of this activity,
Will I for anyone delete!
Do not mistake my patience,
For a sign of someone weak.
These are not the times...
To introduce mind games,
You might wish to find.

I would rather work with you,
Than not.
But I am not going to stop to discuss,
The 'ifs' of what should happen...
Or who 'is' or 'is not' pleased.
Those days are over!
To do,
And get things done!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Living Large In Poverty

All things being equal I'd rather be rich,
However, thing don't always work out,
So I'm resigned to spend my time in poverty,
Working in the dirt and grime.

Why, or why me Lord, I may ask,
Gently proding the almighty for just one task,
I wondered if it would be possible,
Just bless me temporarily the ability to pay my bills,
Then I will be a changed fellow.

I then figured then that money was my problem.

What I didn't realize then,
But I do now,
It isn't a matter of money,
It is a matter of know how.

Now matter how you work,
You may never get ahead,
And then there are people who just work themselves dead.

I looked in the mirror and then decided,
Give me the poverty,
And all I need is the serenity,
To be able to live comfortably,
Now, I live with my means,
Not wanting for things,
And I'm very happy.

You may ask, what did I learn?
I will say, ' Living in poverty is not so bad,
Especially if you have a rich dad! '

poem by Nadalia Bagratuni
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Work To Work

Happy too
Work...
Un happy too
work...

Love too
Woork...
With out love too
Work...

Silentely work...
Tenson to work...
Peace too work...
Diperession to work...

Work with work...
Any time do any
Work...
Work is give for

Human...
Relax and releave...
Sad too work...
Woory too work...

Work too work...
Work is wondrfully
Changed your and your's life
Each every day

Don't take un wanted rest
With your's lazey...
Lazy making
Sad... dipression...
Tenson...

Useless thinking...
So...
Work is wonder fully
Chnage to change for your's...
Mind and thinking and your's life...

Woo
Work to work with you
And other's...

poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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