I'm superstitious... but not like wear the same underwear for two weeks superstitious.
quote by Kate Hudson
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Underwear
I didn’t get much sleep last night
thinking about underwear
Have you ever stopped to consider
underwear in the abstract
When you really dig into it
some shocking problems are raised
Underwear is something we all have to deal with
Everyone wears
some kind of underwear
Even Indians wear underwear
Even Cubans
wear underwear
The Pope wears underwear I hope
The Governor of Louisiana wears underwear
I saw him on TV
He must have had tight underwear
He squirmed a lot
Underwear can really get you in a bind
You have seen the underwear ads for men and women
so alike but so different
Women’s underwear holds things up
Men’s underwear holds things down
Underwear is one thing
men and women do have in common
Underwear is all we have between us
You have seen the three-color pictures
with crotches encircled
to show the areas of extra strength
with three-way stretch
promising full freedom of action
Don’t be deceived
It’s all based on the two-party system
which doesn’t allow much freedom of choice
the way things are set up
America in its Underwear
struggles thru the night
Underwear controls everything in the end
Take foundation garments for instance
They are really fascist forms
of underground government
making people believe
something but the truth
telling you what you can of can’t do
Did you ever try to get around a girdle
Perhaps Non-Violent Action
is the only answer
Did Gandhi wear a girdle?
Did Lady Macbeth wear a girdle?
Was that why Macbeth murdered sleep?
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
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8 Weeks
8 weeks to live
8 weeks to die
8 weeks is all they had
8 weeks to do the things they never did
8 weeks of fighting
8 weeks of trying to fit everything in
8 weeks of pain, suffering, and confusion
8 weeks of faking a smile
8 weeks of repetition
8 weeks of knowing they were nearing the end
8 weeks of love from friends and family
8 weeks…the shortest/longest, most hurtful/helpful weeks of their lives
8 weeks later…knowing they’ll never be able to do the things they’ve always wanted to
8 weeks later…now realizing he’ll never see her walk, at graduation nor down the aisle
8 weeks later…close friends and family now in shambles
8 weeks later…close friends and family never closer
8 weeks later…here we are
poem by Anthony Martello
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You Wear It So Well
All of those things
Yeah, that you got to give
Yeah, you wear it so well
Hey, you wear it so well
All of those stories
Honey, that i know you could tell
Yeah, you wear it so well
And your face hides it so we can't tell
That you knew we would wear it so well
You wear it so well
Yeah darling, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
Yeah baby, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
Yeah now baby, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
Hey now darling now, yeah, you wear it so well
(you wear it so well)
All of those things
That make poets sing
You wear it so well
Yeah, you hide it so well
And all of those pain
That you used to tell
You hide it so well
Can't tell from your face that you knew it so well
Hey, now that you have such a story to tell
Yeah, you got style and grace and you wear it so well
You wear it so well
And you got, you got such a story to tell
Yeah, yeah, yeah, you wear it so well
Grace and style equals you so well
Yeah, yeah, yeah, you wear it so well, well, yeah, so well
Yeah, you wear it, wear it, wear it now, wear it now, baby
Yeah, now you wear it so well
And you got such a story to tell
(ooohhh, ooohhh, ooohhh)
(ooohhh, you wear it so well)
(you wear it so well)
(you wear it so well)
song performed by Lou Reed
Added by Lucian Velea
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VII. Pompilia
I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.
All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.
Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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How Come
How come when I got the ace of hearts
Ya always draw the ace of spades
Hows it when your best friend
Brings you lillies on your birthday
Hey how come, hey how come
Well I aint superstitious, but well these things I see
How come, how come
I aint a superstitious fella, but it worries me
How come when your local clergy calls
He tells me that you shouldnt wear black
What kind of bread are you gonna bake
With that hemlock in your spice rack
Hey how come, hey how come
Well I aint superstitious, but well these things I see
How come, how come
I aint a superstitious fella, but it worries me
The spiders run, the cobwebs gone
Did you eat it when the moon was new
I drowned your cat, what do you say about that
Ive even broken up your broom
How come, how come
Well I aint superstitious, but well these things I see
How come, how come
I aint a superstitious fella, but it worries me
Well how come, how come
Well I aint superstitious, but well these things I see
How come, how come
I aint a superstitious fella, but it worries me
song performed by Pogues
Added by Lucian Velea
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Slade It In
You keep on pushing, babe,
Like i've never known before
You know you drive me crazy, child,
An' i just wanna see you on the floor
I wanna superstitious woman
An' she got a superstitious mind
I can't see you, baby,
I can't see you anymore, no more
You keep on loving me
Like i've never known before
I wanna superstitious woman
With a superstitious, a superstitious mind, an' i don't mind, baby
My heart is beating faster, babe,
It's beating like a big bass drum
You know you got me speeding, child,
Faster than a bullet from a gun
You're a superstitious woman
An' i got a superstitious mind, an' i don't care
So take me down slow an' easy,
Make love to me slow an' easy
I know that hard luck an' trouble
Is coming my way,
So rock me 'til i'm burned to the bone,
Rock me 'til i'm burned to the bone
I don't care about, oh,
I don't care about love, no more
The way you keep abusing me
Oh, i can't take no more
I wanna woman
She got a superstitious mind
So take me down slow an' easy,
Make love to me slow an' easy
I know that hard luck an' trouble
Is coming my way,
So rock me 'til i'm burned to the bone,
Rock me 'til i'm burned to the bone,
Rock me 'til i'm burned
So take me down slow an' easy,
Make love to me slow an' easy
Take me down slow an' easy,
Rock me 'til i'm burned to the bone
Take me down slow an' easy,
Make love to me slow an' easy
I know that hard luck an' trouble
Is coming my way,
So rock me 'til i'm burned to the bone...
song performed by Whitesnake
Added by Lucian Velea
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Slow An Easy
(coverdale/moody)
You keep on pushing, babe,
Like Ive never known before
You know you drive me crazy, child,
An I just wanna see you on the floor
I wanna superstitious woman
An she got a superstitious mind
I cant see you, baby,
I cant see you anymore, no more
You keep on loving me
Like Ive never known before
I wanna superstitious woman
With a superstitious, a superstitious mind, an I dont mind, baby
My heart is beating faster, babe,
Its beating like a big bass drum
You know you got me speeding, child,
Faster than a bullet from a gun
Youre a superstitious woman
An I got a superstitious mind, an I dont care
So take me down slow an easy,
Make love to me slow an easy
I know that hard luck an trouble
Is coming my way,
So rock me til Im burned to the bone,
Rock me til Im burned to the bone
I dont care about, oh,
I dont care about love, no more
The way you keep abusing me
Oh, I cant take no more
I wanna woman
She got a superstitious mind
So take me down slow an easy,
Make love to me slow an easy
I know that hard luck an trouble
Is coming my way,
So rock me til Im burned to the bone,
Rock me til Im burned to the bone,
Rock me til Im burned
So take me down slow an easy,
Make love to me slow an easy
Take me down slow an easy,
Rock me til Im burned to the bone
Take me down slow an easy,
Make love to me slow an easy
I know that hard luck an trouble
Is coming my way,
So rock me til Im burned to the bone...
song performed by Whitesnake
Added by Lucian Velea
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Favorite
Don't look sexy but it just feels right
Not too dirty and it's not too tight
Why I never threw it out, I'll never know exactly why
Keep it in the drawer beside my bed
It's faded pink now, but it used to be red
Starting to fray at the seams, but I know that you'll still love me
Like you did, like you did
Like before, like before
Like we will, like we will
Be doin' it once more
Oh baby know what your like?
You're like my favorite underwear
It just feels right, you know it
Oh baby know how you feel?
You feel like my favorite underwear
And I'm slipping you on again tonight
Leave you lyin' on the bedroom floor
I leave you hangin' on the bathroom door
Take you for granted, but I'll always know exactly where you are
Lost you once you were hard to find
Got you back you didn't live like mine
Thought we were falling apart but you make me feel so pretty
Like you did, like you did
Like before, like before
Like we will, like we will
Be doin' it once more
Oh baby know what your like?
You're like my favorite underwear
It just feels right, you know it
Oh baby know how you feel?
You feel like my favorite underwear
And I'm slipping you on again tonight
Slipping you on again tonight
Wrap me and roll me, hold me tight
Tear me apart and make me new
Like you always do
Oh baby know what your like?
You're like my favorite underwear
It just feels right, you know it
You feel you're like this is what I want
You feel, you feel
Oh baby know what your like?
You're like my favorite underwear
It just feels right, you know it
You feel you're like this is what I want
You feel, you feel
Slipping you on again tonight
song performed by Liz Phair
Added by Lucian Velea
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Chevy-Chase
The Perse owt off Northombarlonde,
And a vowe to God mayd he
That he wold hunte in the mowntayns
Off Chyviat within days thre,
In the magger of doughte Dogles,
And all that ever with him be.
The fattiste hartes in all Cheviat
He sayd he wold kyll, and cary them away:
'Be my feth,' sayd the doughteti Doglas agayn,
'I wyll let that hontyng yf that I may.
Then the Perse owt off Banborowe cam,
With him a myghtee meany,
With fifteen hondrith archares bold off blood and bone;
The wear chosen owt of shyars thre.
This begane on a Monday at morn,
In Cheviat the hyllys so he;
They chylde may rue that ys un-born,
It wos the mor pitte.
The dryvars thorowe the woodes went,
For to reas the dear;
Bomen byckarte uppone the bent
With ther browd aros cleare.
Then the wyld thorowe the woodes went,
On every syde shear;
Greahondes thorowe the grevis glent,
For to kyll thear dear.
This began in Chyviat the hyls abone,
yerly on a Monnyn-day;
Be that it drewe to the oware off none,
A hondrith fat hartes ded ther lay.
The blewe a mort uppone the bent,
The semblyde on sydis shear;
To the quyrry then the Perse went,
To se the bryttlynge off the deare.
He sayd, 'It was the Doglas promys
This day to met me hear;
But I wyste he wolde faylle, verament;'
A great oth the Perse swear.
At the laste a squyar off Northomberlonde
Lokyde at his hand full ny;
He was war a the doughetie Doglas commynge,
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Superstition
Written by: stevie wonder
Very superstitious
Writing's on the wall
Very superstitious
Ladder's about to fall
Thirteen-month-old baby
Broke the looking glass
Seven years of bad luck
Good things in your past
If you believe in things that you don't understand
Then you suffer
Superstition ain't the way
Very superstitious
Wash your face and hands
Rid me of the problems
Do all that you can
Keep me in a daydream
Keep me going strong
You don't want to save me
Sad is my song
If you believe in things that you don't understand
Then you suffer
Superstition ain't the way
Very superstitious
Nothing more to say
Very superstitious
Devil's on his way
Thirteen-month-old baby
Broke the looking glass
Seven years of bad luck
Good things in your past
If you believe in things that you don't understand
Then you suffer
Superstition ain't the way
Superstition ain't the way...
Superstition ain't the way...
song performed by Lenny Kravitz
Added by Lucian Velea
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Superstition
(stevie wonder)
Very superstitious, writings on the wall,
Very superstitious, ladders bout to fall,
Thirteen month old baby, broke the lookin glass
Seven years of bad luck, the good things in your past
When you believe in things that you dont understand,
Then you suffer,
Superstition aint the way
Very superstitious, wash your face and hands,
Rid me of the problem, do all that you can,
Keep me in a daydream, keep me goin strong,
You dont wanna save me, sad is my song
When you believe in things that you dont understand,
Then you suffer,
Superstition aint the way, yeh, yeh.
Very superstitious, nothin more to say,
Very superstitious, the devils on his way,
Thirteen month old baby, broke the lookin glass,
Seven years of bad luck, good things in your past
When you believe in things that you dont understand,
Then you suffer,
Superstition aint the way, no, no, no
song performed by Rick Springfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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Superstition
Very superstitious, writings on the wall,
Very superstitious, ladders bout to fall,
Thirteen month old baby, broke the lookin glass
Seven years of bad luck, the good things in your past.
When you believe in things that you dont understand,
Then you suffer,
Superstition aint the way
Very superstitious, wash your face and hands,
Rid me of the problem, do all that you can,
Keep me in a daydream, keep me goin strong,
You dont wanna save me, sad is my song.
When you believe in things that you dont understand,
Then you suffer,
Superstition aint the way, yeh, yeh.
Very superstitious, nothin more to say,
Very superstitious, the devils on his way,
Thirteen month old baby, broke the lookin glass,
Seven years of bad luck, good things in your past
When you believe in things that you dont understand,
Then you suffer,
Superstition aint the way, no, no, no
song performed by Stevie Wonder
Added by Lucian Velea
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Superstition
Very superstitious, writings on the wall
Very superstitious, ladders bout to fall
Thirteen month old baby. broke the lookin glass
Seven years of bad luck, the good things in your past
When you believe in things that you dont understand
Then you suffer
Superstition aint the way
Very superstitious, wash your face and hands
Rid me of the problems, do all that you can
Keep me in a daydream, keep me goin strong
You dont wanna save me, sad is my song
When you believe in things that you dont understand
Then you suffer
Superstition aint the way, yeh, yeh, yeh.
Very superstitious, nothin more to say
Very superstitious, the devils on his way
Thirteen month old baby, broke the lookin glass
Seven years of bad luck, good things in your past.
When you believe in things that you dont understand
Then you suffer
Superstition aint the way, no, no, no
song performed by Ub40
Added by Lucian Velea
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As Ireland Wore the Green
BY RIGHT of birth in southern land I send my warning forth.
I see my country ruined by the wrongs that damned the North.
And shall I stand with fireless eyes and still and silent mouth
While Mammon builds his Londons on the fair fields of the South?
CHORUS:
O must we hide our colour
In fear of Mammon’s spleen?
Or shall we wear the bonnie blue
As Ireland wore the green?
As Ireland wore the green, my friends!
As Ireland wore the green!
Aye, we will wear our colour still,
As Ireland wore the green!
I see the shade of poverty fall on each sunny scene.
And slums and alley-ways extend where fields were evergreen.
There is a law that stamps the flower of freedom as it springs;
And this upon a soil that’s trod by prouder feet than kings’.
And must I hide my colour
In fear of Mammon’s spleen?
Or shall I wear the bonnie blue
As Ireland wore the green?
As Ireland wore the green, my friends!
As Ireland swore the green!
Aye, I will wear my colour yet,
As Ireland wore the green!
Out there beyond the lonely range our fathers toiled for years
’Neath all the hardships that beset true-hearted pioneers;
And our brave mothers journeyed there to do the work of men
On those great awful plains that were unfit for women then.
Then must we hide our colour
In fear of Mammon’s spleen?
Or shall we wear the bonnie blue
As Ireland swore the green?
As Ireland wore the green, my friends!
As Ireland wore the green!
Aye, we shall wear our colour still,
As Ireland wore the green!
O shall the fields our fathers won be yielded to the few
Who never touched the axe or spade, and hardships never knew?
Shall lordly robbers rule the land and build their mansions high,
And ladies flaunt their jewelled plumes where our brave mothers lie?
O must we hide our colour
In fear of Mammnon’s spleen?
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Lawson
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Who’ll Wear the Beaten Colours?
Who’ll wear the beaten colours—and cheer the beaten men?
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, till our time comes again?
Where sullen crowds are densest, and fickle as the sea,
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, and wear them home with me?
We closed the bars and gambling dens and voted straight and clean,
Our women walked while motor cars were whirling round the scene,
The Potts Point Vote was one for Greed and Ease and Luxury
With all to hold, and coward gold, and beaten folk are we.
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, with hands and pockets clean?
(I wore the beaten colours since I was seventeen)
I wore them up, and wore them down, Outback and across the sea—
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, and wear them home with me?
We wore them back from Ladysmith to where the peace was signed,
And wore them through the London streets where Jingoes howled behind.
We wore them to the Queen’s Hall, while England yelled “Pro-Boers!”
And sat them over victory while London banged the doors.1
We wore them from Port Arthur round till all sunk in the sea—
(Who’ll wear the white man’s colours, and wear them home with me?)
I’ve worn them through with gentlemen, with work-slaves and alone—
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, boys, and wear them on his own?
There’s one would look with startled eyes and shrink while I caressed,
Came I not with the colours of the conquered on my breast.
And twenty thousand Bushmen would stand with hands behind
And scorn in all their faces for the coward of his kind.
Who’ll wear the beaten colours and raise the voice they drowned—
It may be when we march again, they’ll bear some other sound—
Who’ll pin the beaten colours on and drive the beaten pen—
It may be other steel and ink when we march out again.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Can I Wait For My Boxer's to Dry?
I was often told...
Be careful how you go up the ladder,
Because one day you may have to come down.
And to always wear clean underwear.
Since you never know...
Who just might be around.
'That still doesn't explain,
Why you are butt naked...
Standing on a ladder,
And hanging your underwear
On tree limbs! '
Well officer...
It's like this.
If my neighbors saw my underwear clean,
And I put them on publicly.
They would not worry about how they looked...
When I came down the ladder.
It would be obvious...
My underwear is clean!
'I still have to take you in for psychiatric observation.
I understand the logic behind it!
However...
I do think you have been a bit stressed.
And taking things out of context.'
Can I wait for my boxer's to dry?
I just put those on my next door neighbor's satellite dish!
Did they call you?
I bet they did!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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As Soon as Fred Gets Out of Bed
As soon as Fred gets out of bed,
his underwear goes on his head.
His mother laughs, "Don't put it there,
a head's no place for underwear!"
But near his ears, above his brains,
is where Fred's underwear remains.
At night when Fred goes back to bed,
he deftly plucks it off his head.
His mother switches off the light
and softly croons, "Good night! Good night!"
And then, for reasons no one knows,
Fred's underwear goes on his toes.
poem by Jack Prelutsky
Added by Poetry Lover
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I Aint Superstitious
(willie dixon)
Aint superstitious,
Black cat crossed my trail.
I aint superstitious,
But a black cat crossed my trail.
Bad luck aint got me so far,
And I wont let it stop me now.
The dogs begin to bark,
All over my neighborhood.
And that aint all.
Dogs begin to bark,
All over my neighborhood.
Mmm-mmm
This is a mean old world to live in,
And I cant face it all by myself, at all.
And, dogs begin to bark,
All over my neighborhood.
The dogs begin to bark,
All over my neighborhood.
I got a feelin about the future,
And it aint too good, I know that.
I know, I know, I know.
Aint superstitious,
But black cat crossed my trail,
(I said it so many times before)
Aint superstitious,
A black cat crossed my trail.
Bad luck aint got me so far,
And you know I aint gonna let it stop me now.
Come on.
song performed by Rod Stewart
Added by Lucian Velea
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Wear My Hat
She came looking for me with her arms open wide,
Like some long lost friend of mine.
She said excuse me, but do you remember me ?
I said no, I dont believe I do
So she looked me up and down
And undressed me with her eyes,
Then she said youve got everything I need, youve got everything I want
So I said ok,
You can wear my hat,
You can have my coat,
You can take my shirt
cos I dont need it.
You can wear my shoes,
You can take my socks,
Come on take my bag its yours
If you love it,
You can have it if you love it,
Aint no problem if you love it,
Come on take it if you love it.
So her friend came up to me
With a pen and paper in her hand,
Expressing some interest in the number of my room,
She said excuse me, but do you remember me?
I said no, she said can I appeal to you?
So I looked her up and down
And realising her insinuations I blushed
She said listen babe you dont know me,
No you dont know me but you owe me,
And I love you,
Yes I love you,
Put your arms around me cos I love you,
I got all your records and I love you
So I suggested
You can wear my hat,
You can have my coat,
You can take my shirt
cos I dont need it.
You can wear my shoes,
You can take my socks,
Come on take my bag its yours
If you love it,
You can have it if you love it,
Aint no problem if you love it,
Come on take it if you love it.
Well later on that day this guy came to me
With a scrap of paper in his hand
He said hey buddy can you sign your name for me?
I said why, do I owe you money? he said no
I said listen pal do I know you? have we ever met?
Why do you want my name on this little piece of paper?
[...] Read more
song performed by Phil Collins
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Man in Green
Well, you wonder why
I always wear the green,
The colours of the world’s
Finest football team,
You will never see me wear the colours
Of royal or navy blue,
As I’m a Celtic supporter,
Faithful through and through.
I wear the green for my ancestors,
Who came from Ireland, long ago,
Who left Erin’s shores and settled
In the town of Glasgow,
I wear it for the Irish Diaspora,
Who fled the famine and the crown,
I wear from Brother Walfrid
Who sheltered the poor in the east end of town.
I wear the emerald green
In memory of my father,
Garngad born,
A faithful Celtic supporter,
He walked the path to heaven,
Over ten years ago,
As he stands with Our Lord
Wearing his green, white and gold.
I wear the green for the Celtic legends,
Who have left our lives,
Knowing that they entered heaven
With Our Lord on their side,
I wear it for Willie Maley, Jock Stein
And young John Thomson,
I wear it for Bobby Murdoch, Johnny Doyle
And wee Jimmy Johnstone.
I wear the colours of Celtic,
Each and every day,
I pray for the bhoys of Parkhead each night,
And to God, I do say,
Why do all the Orangemen,
All hate the sight of green?
For green’s the finest colour
That the world has ever seen.
[...] Read more
poem by Daniel McDonagh
Added by Poetry Lover
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