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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Related quotes
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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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Mystic Sorrow
Mystic Sorrow listens for laughter
To know when it stops
So she may come after
And leave a scar in laughter's place
And listens for tears
And makes no haste
To smile and party
With the laughter she stole
And pray her days
With her problematic soul
Will forever be gone
And do her no wrong
And she may live on
Happy and whole
poem by Plague Rose

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Thing Language
This ocean, humiliating in its disguises
Tougher than anything.
No one listens to poetry. The ocean
Does not mean to be listened to. A drop
Or crash of water. It means
Nothing.
It
Is bread and butter
Pepper and salt. The death
That young men hope for. Aimlessly
It pounds the shore. White and aimless signals. No
One listens to poetry.
poem by Jack Spicer

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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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Rape Of The Young
Hey mister exxon
Wont you have pity
Wont you have pity on the guiltless ones
Hey mister chrysler
Wont you think about it
Wont you think about it? judgment day has begun
What will become of tomorrows children
Who gives a damn for tomorrows children
Pay no mind, you just keep on takin
Keep on takin til theres nothing at all
Sit on your hands and dont say nothin
Cover your eyes, you wont see nothin
Cry for the innocent sent to war
(dont tell a soul)
Shed a tear for the ones waiting at the door
(theyll never know)
Its the last generation of a world gone blind
(you better watch your tongue)
Its the violation of the unborn child
Its the rape of the young
Hey mister general
Cant you find something
Cant you find something else to do for a buck
Hey mister president
Nobody listens
Nobody listens til weve run out of luck
Nobody cares for unborn troubles
Why should you care, its too much trouble
You got yours so it just dont bug ya
It just dont bug ya cause you wont be around
song performed by by Utopia

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shade
In the woods…
The shade
comes to listen
In the shade…
Veined leaves
and silver firs glisten
In the veins…
There courses
voices of the trees
In the trees…
The shade listens
then grieves
The shade comes…
The shade listens…
Then leaves…
poem by David Whalen

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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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Poetry.... (Bare Open Hand)
poetry does not pay the rent...
does not buy cars or houses,
does not sell stocks.
does not wear suits and ties,
does not barter, is not profitable,
cannot be bought or sold.
but poetry opens forbidden doors,
builds bridges in the darkness...
embraces the soul left alone.
pours balm on open wounds,
brings a mirror and the cost.
poetry asks questions that the soul whispers,
knows well the language of trees and rivers.
dances naked in the moonlight.
prays prayers we're afraid of...
poetry disarms the violent.
kisses, touches, makes love.
burns, burns, and burns....
feeds the hungry and heals the sick.
poetry sees beneath the skin,
takes off the cloak of religion,
and unleashes the spiritual.
breaks the glass, and unlocks chains.
poetry plows new ground,
and names each sacred moment.
listens, listens, and listens,
and extends a bare open hand!
poem by Eric Cockrell

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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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Words
I've been thinking
a lot about me
and the art of good conversation
everyone talks and nobody listens
and the wind blows my words away.
I've been thinking a lot
about me
and the art of communication
if nobody listens
there's no need to talk
and the wind blows my words away.
You see I've been thinking
a lot
about me
and my final destination
Death has a strange fascination for me
and words are my only salvation.
poem by Gillian Commerford

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