Citatepedia^®.com

Do multiple tasks at one go.

Indonesian proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Biggest Bigamist

To dream the impossible dream,
Keep your distance, if you know what I mean,
To have multiple Queens wearing multiple crowns,
Your multiple wives need multiple towns.

I love my wives, they love me too,
But they don't know some things that I do,
I have a sweet tooth, I think women are wine,
So to get my sugar, I'm the marrying kind.

I got a wife in Alabama, her father's a baker,
I got one in Ohio, she don't know I'm a faker,
I got one in Hawaii, we have a family of three,
She has no clue what's going on with me.

I got one in Minnesota, we live on a lake,
I got one in Nevada, who don't know I'm a fake,
I got one in Utah, we both love to ski,
She reminds me of my wife in Mississippi.

It gets a little dicey on major holidays,
I have to lie a lot and make a few plays,
I tell 'em, 'I got business that takes me out of town,
But when I get back, I'll make it up somehow.'

I have wives of every race, every color and creed,
In their totality, they give me what I need,
I got a wife in Oklahoma, she loves to ride the range,
I'm having so much fun, I don't think I'll ever change.

poem by Richard Jarboe
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

My Tasks Are Deeper Than That

It is not from a core,
Heated with an ego...
I wish adored.

My tasks are deeper than that.
My approach to life,
Keeps my ancestors intact.

It is not for adulation,
I crave to taste.
Or applause to acknowledge,
I have talents gifted...
From an unseen higher place.

My tasks are deeper than that.
My approach to life,
Keeps my ancestors intact.

It's a fact I respect my ancestors tracks.
I feel their spirits around and in me.
As if from one tree...
I am a limb with them attached.

I am here to succeed.
Not to accept defeat.
Or feed frustrations,
That stagnate my reach.

My tasks are deeper than that.
My approach to life,
Keeps my ancestors intact.

Impatient with waste.
And with those who procrastinate.
No excuses do I make...
With those who fake life.
And seek ways to escape.

I am here to succeed.
Not to accept defeat.
Or feed frustrations,
That stagnate my reach.

And no emotional limitations,
Will interfere with my deeds...
In a preventive escalation.
That within me,
Gets no empathy.

I'm not here to sob and weep,

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Finding The Right One(Revised In Line Form)

One more day, till this comes to an end.
Another gamble, but this time it has changed things.
A lovely paradise is mine. In those scarlet eyes, try to fight it try to deny it.
I say regardless of the ill forgotten memories this is the life for me.
No more traveling the distance.
No need, right here is where I should be.
The animal is alive in me.
It claws at me to be free.
Sinking your teeth into every inch of my skin.
This was what I really wanted.
Its no where near as complicated.
Simple matters, desire, lust, love, romance.
Work it until we have nothing left.
Multiple chances, multiple summer dances, multiple dirty glances.
Now I know.
Good is in the heart, that's not so easy, sometimes that can be so slutty when its the first night even if its under candle light.
Those kind of relationships make me sick.
You need to earn it, work to it, you would know this, if you weren't with the nobodies.
So don't ever tell me your serious if your so god damn easy.
You were broken, my soul has been re-awoken.
I'm on fire tonight.
Dreams so silent, cant circumvent what a word meant. consciences are plenty, but not tonight or tomorrow.
Everything has been put on the table.
It's not another fable.
Another fake label.
Not more deceit behind a voice and a photograph.
Let us laugh, let us smile, let us swim down the entire Nile.
Hold on to this moment for just a little longer.
Overwhelmingly happy. In the middle of hardships.
Insects in a cruel world.
They always trying to bring us down.
But I found you lifted me higher off the ground.
Then the last two weeks I've been around.
Dead is that sound.
As is everything else about it.
And there you have it.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Salman Rushdie

Intrepid gadfly;
the voice of dissent.
Multiple times stricken,
multiple times resolved.
Though he bleeds,
still the pen that chides never bleeds,
nor is it obliterated.
For three decades and four,
death he evaded,
still, multiple times stricken,
evasive he remains.

poem by Joseph C Ogbonna (19 August 2022)
Added by Joseph C Ogbonna
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Only Black Sheep

The black sheep sits among us.
His eyes' glisten as he waits undivided.
His ghost knows he's already here.
It whispers, 'of despair, with a chill in the air.'
Anger, begets this fear monger.
Control, and dominance.
Nothing less then absolute dictatorship, for this tyrant.
A rule with a iron fist.
The money's is his.
Multiple women with polygamous desires.
A united military is his wanted transgression.
Put down all, who threat this rule.
Destroy,
Hurt,
Rob,
Enslave,
Hate.
Humiliate,
Devastate
Those under the empires flag.
Burn It.
It's evil.

It means nothing no more.
Who are we but mere pawns?
And a new dawn is coming.
It will sit to waste human life at the face of greed and gluttony.
Those who want to buy something and don't need.
And the people who want make money off everything.
Including the air you breath.
Yeah paying for the air you breath.
Those rich companies get taxes off green house gases.
Who created them and got us hooked in the first place.
Which doesn't make any sense.
Why can't we just do something good for doing it?
Why does their have to be that catch?

The black sheep sits among us.
His eyes' glisten as he waits undivided.
His ghost knows he's already here.
It whispers, 'of despair, with a chill in the air.'
Anger, begets this fear monger.
Control, and dominance.
Nothing less then absolute dictatorship, for this tyrant.
A rule with a iron fist.
The money's is his.
Multiple women with polygamous desires.
A united military is his wanted transgression.
Put down all, who threat this rule.
Destroy,

[...] Read more

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Only Black Sheep (Ancient Times)

The black sheep sits among us.
His eyes' glisten as he waits undivided.
His ghost knows he's already here.
It whispers, 'of despair, with a chill in the air.'
Anger, begets this fear monger.
Control, and dominance.
Nothing less then absolute dictatorship, for this tyrant.
A rule with a iron fist.
The money's is his.
Multiple women with polygamous desires.
A united military is his wanted transgression.
Put down all, who threat this rule.
Destroy,
Hurt,
Rob,
Enslave,
Hate.
Humiliate,
Devastate
Those under the empires flag.
Burn It.
It's evil.

It means nothing no more.
Who are we but mere pawns?
And a new dawn is coming.
It will sit to waste human life at the face of greed and gluttony.
Those who want to buy something and don't need.
And the people who want make money off everything.
Including the your cattle and sheep.
Taxation without representation.
Those rich horde and sell too those who don't need.
Only one shall stand above all others.
Which doesn't make any sense.
We can't live without paying a price.
Cause life is precious.
It's not just given without consequences.

The black sheep sits among us.
His eyes' glisten as he waits undivided.
His ghost knows he's already here.
It whispers, 'of despair, with a chill in the air.'
Anger, begets this fear monger.
Control, and dominance.
Nothing less then absolute dictatorship, for this tyrant.
A rule with a iron fist.
The money's is his.
Multiple women with polygamous desires.
A united military is his wanted transgression.
Put down all, who threat this rule.

[...] Read more

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Multiple

Marriage and divorce,
Remaariage and divorce;
Our sexual sins,
Our multiple lovers,
If your right eye causes you to sin gorge it out.

Whosoever looks on a woman with lust for her has,
Already committed adultery with her in his heart;
But he who departs from evil and upholds the law is accounted as mad.
Of men with multiple sex partners,
Of women with multiple sex partners,
Spiritual blindness has come upon mankind!
But most poeple never think to ask,
'Why' and 'How' did i get this disease in my body;
Yes, we are carried away with the cares of this world.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

A Poem also About Duplicity

It would be unfortunate if the idea of multiple selves
obscured the fact the self is still
responsible for the terror it makes in the mind.

It would be a mistake if the multiple meanings
of words like torture disguised the fact
we are torturers, with lessened concern about it.

It would be tragic if the loss of multiple relationships
to the unconscious
obviated the possibility
of minding a more responsible life.
I say this as someone who minds
what insanity means, not what we are coming to think.

Imagination means so much;
so much depends on what's under.

poem by Forrest Hamer
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Binary Star Brown Dwarf

“wisdom dictates
classified files
ultra death seals

are not played
out in public arena”

trump disclosure

is brown dwarf
Marduk course
is magnetic pole

migration
poles shift
symptoms

associated
brown dwarf
sun binary star

nearing
center of
our solar

system...
for once
in 3600-year

orbit
around
our sun

binary stars
are often
detected optically

visual binaries
many visual binaries
have long orbital

periods
of several
centuries

or millennia
therefore
have orbits

which are

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Freedom Carries Multiple Meanings

fighting oppression in multiple meanings
censorship through televised manipulations
talking about premeditated virtual conspiracy
against peace loving citizen communications
freedom saga rescue is a nice way to fight
through claimed sight multiple meanings
freedom carries hope seeds in individualistic
experience sanctuary self-phrasing matters

freedom carries multiple meanings
self-praising soul liberation's maturity
like love freedom speech perceptions
like it as if somebody else wrote it
as your own harmonic soul liberations
into your soul rescued from captivity
separate freedom from mind into hearts
claiming God imbued freedom birth rights

poem by Terence George Craddock
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Know the 20 biggest time wasters

Know the 20 biggest time wasters

We are good in spending time, but inept in really utilizing it. The
following are the time wasters in both personal and professional lives. It
is presumed that you are wise enough to cure them.

Attempting too much triggered by over ambition, over response and over desire

Unclear role and responsibility without adequate authority

Intruders in the name of visitors, guests and others

Inability to say “no” for whatever reason, may be fear or love

Inadequate control over things happening around

Inadequate planning, probably not knowledgeable as to how to go about

Running short of resources

Not adequately informed of the progress

Inability to get certain tasks done by others

Lack of self discipline not keeping up to schedules, not adhering to
punctuality

Unfinished tasks in chain of events leading to designed goals

Reacting only when deviations observed, not bothering about preventive steps

Wasteful discussions and purposeless meetings

Unnecessarily detailing, loose ends searching

Self disorganization

Poor or ineffective communication

Procrastination – assuming self to the best, waiting for crisis to crop up, postponing tougher tasks

Over socializing, diluting the purpose of interpersonal interaction

Time consuming telephone or mobile calls, both in and out

Travel without purpose

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Careless Mathilda

'AGAIN, Matilda, is your work undone!
Your scissors, where are they? your thimble, gone?
Your needles, pins, and thread and tapes all lost;
Your housewife here, and there your workbag toss'd.

'Fie, fie, my child! indeed this will not do,
Your hair uncomb'd, your frock in tatters, too;
I'm now resolved no more delays to grant,
To learn of her, I'll send you to your aunt. '
In vain Matilda wept, entreated, pray'd,
In vain a promise of amendment made.

Arrived at Austere Hall, Matilda sigh'd,
By Lady Rigid when severely eyed:
'You read and write, and work well, as I'm told,
Are gentle, kind, good-natured, and not bold;
But very careless, negligent, and wild–
You'll leave me, as I hope, a different child. '

The little girl next morn a favour asks;
'I wish to take a walk.'–'Go, learn your tasks,'
Replies her aunt, 'nor fruitlessly repine:
Your room you'll leave not till you're call'd to dine. '
As there Matilda sat, o'erwhelm'd with shame,
A dame appear'd, Disorder was her name:
Her hair and dress neglected–soil'd her face,
Her mien unseemly, and devoid of grace.

'Here, child, ' said she, 'my mistress sends you this,
A bag of silks–a flower, not work'd amiss–
A polyanthus bright, and wondrous gay,
You'll copy it by noon, she bade me say. '
Disorder grinn'd, and shuffling walk'd away.

Entangled were the silks of every hue,
Confused and mix'd were shades of pink, green, blue;
She took a thread, compared it with the flower:
'To finish this is not within my power.
Well-sorted silks had Lady Rigid sent,
I might have work'd, if such was her intent. '
She sigh'd, and melted into sobs and tears:
She hears a step, and at the door appears
A pretty maiden, clean, well-dress'd, and neat,
Her voice was soft, her looks sedate, yet sweet.
'My name is Order: do not cry, my love;
Attend to me, and thus you may improve. '
She took the silks, and drew out shade by shade,
In separate skeins, and each with care she laid;
Then smiling kindly, left the little maid.
Matilda now resumes her sweet employ,

[...] Read more

poem by Ann Taylor
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Tale XIII

JESSE AND COLIN.

A Vicar died and left his Daughter poor -
It hurt her not, she was not rich before:
Her humble share of worldly goods she sold,
Paid every debt, and then her fortune told;
And found, with youth and beauty, hope and health,
Two hundred guineas was her worldly wealth;
It then remain'd to choose her path in life,
And first, said Jesse, 'Shall I be a wife? -
Colin is mild and civil, kind and just,
I know his love, his temper I can trust;
But small his farm, it asks perpetual care,
And we must toil as well as trouble share:
True, he was taught in all the gentle arts
That raise the soul and soften human hearts;
And boasts a parent, who deserves to shine
In higher class, and I could wish her mine;
Nor wants he will his station to improve,
A just ambition waked by faithful love;
Still is he poor--and here my Father's Friend
Deigns for his Daughter, as her own, to send:
A worthy lady, who it seems has known
A world of griefs and troubles of her own:
I was an infant when she came a guest
Beneath my father's humble roof to rest;
Her kindred all unfeeling, vast her woes,
Such her complaint, and there she found repose;
Enrich'd by fortune, now she nobly lives,
And nobly, from the bless'd abundance, gives;
The grief, the want, of human life she knows,
And comfort there and here relief bestows:
But are they not dependants?--Foolish pride!
Am I not honour'd by such friend and guide?
Have I a home' (here Jesse dropp'd a tear),
'Or friend beside?'--A faithful friend was near.
Now Colin came, at length resolved to lay
His heart before her, and to urge her stay:
True, his own plough the gentle Colin drove,
An humble farmer with aspiring love;
Who, urged by passion, never dared till now,
Thus urged by fears, his trembling hopes avow:
Her father's glebe he managed; every year
The grateful Vicar held the youth more dear;
He saw indeed the prize in Colin's view,
And wish'd his Jesse with a man so true:
Timid as true, he urged with anxious air
His tender hope, and made the trembling prayer,
When Jesse saw, nor could with coldness see,
Such fond respect, such tried sincerity;

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Borough. Letter XXIV: Schools

To every class we have a School assign'd,
Rules for all ranks and food for every mind:
Yet one there is, that small regard to rule
Or study pays, and still is deem'd a School:
That, where a deaf, poor, patient widow sits,
And awes some thirty infants as she knits;
Infants of humble, busy wives, who pay
Some trifling price for freedom through the day:
At this good matron's hut the children meet,
Who thus becomes the mother of the street:
Her room is small they cannot widely stray, -
Her threshold high they cannot run away:
Though deaf, she sees the rebel-heroes shout, -
Though lame, her white rod nimbly walks about;
With band of yarn she keeps offenders in,
And to her gown the sturdiest rogue can pin:
Aided by these, and spells, and tell-tale birds,
Her power they dread and reverence her words.
To Learning's second seats we now proceed,
Where humming students gilded primers read;
Or books with letters large and pictures gay,
To make their reading but a kind of play -
'Reading made easy,' so the titles tell;
But they who read must first begin to spell:
There may be profit in these arts, but still
Learning is labour, call it what you will;
Upon the youthful mind a heavy load,
Nor must we hope to find the royal road.
Some will their easy steps to science show,
And some to heav'n itself their by-way know;
Ah! trust them not,--who fame or bliss would share,
Must learn by labour, and must live by care.
Another matron, of superior kind,
For higher schools prepares the rising mind;
Preparatory she her Learning calls,
The step first made to colleges and halls.
She early sees to what the mind will grow,
Nor abler judge of infant-powers I know:
She sees what soon the lively will impede,
And how the steadier will in turn succeed;
Observes the dawn of wisdom, fancy, taste,
And knows what parts will wear, and what will

waste:
She marks the mind too lively, and at once
Sees the gay coxcomb and the rattling dunce.
Long has she lived, and much she loves to trace
Her former pupils, now a lordly race;
Whom when she sees rich robes and furs bedeck,
She marks the pride which once she strove to check.

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Under Patient Conditions

If you want to win you've got to stack the pack.
Sitting and wishing wont bring the cash.
Those with dreams work hard at tasks.
Ambition with a mission is the right ammunition.

Under patient conditions anyone can fix what's missing.
Under patient conditions anyone can fix what's missing.
Under patient conditions anyone can fix what's missing.
Ambition with a mission is the right ammunition.

If you want to win you've got to stack the pack.
Sitting and wishing wont bring the cash.
Those with dreams work hard at tasks.
Ambition with a mission is the right ammunition.

Under patient conditions anyone can fix what's missing.
Under patient conditions anyone can fix what's missing.
If you want to win you've got to stack the pack.
Sitting and wishing wont bring the cash.
Those with dreams work hard at tasks.
Ambition with a mission is the right ammunition.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Wake! Asia! Wake! (Part One)

Part One

It is night yet in the West
and the planes land between listlessly burning tarmac lamps
stealthy fingers scurrying through diadems of neons halogens and amber
Wake! O! Asia! Wake!

The cowherds' bare blistered feet already trample yesterday's dust into mud
and cartwheels strain in crusted fissures where rains only once or twice fell
while dreams fester in cosy centrally-heated silken beds in luxury flats
Wake! O! Asia! Wake!

Tomorrow is yesteryear's planned strikes
buses trains taxis office machines lie soundlessly asleep
and will not wake until the battle over psychic comfort comes to an end
Wake! O! Asia! Wake!

For You there is no respite no pause
no tea-breaks with cheese biscuits or croissants
there's only the last container to crane over the dock in unpaid overtime
Wake! O! Asia! Wake!

Your eyes will hurt in the twilight's hazy glimmer
no time to brush your teeth nor shave in hot and cold running water
nor the right to flush a toilet nor heedlessly course through in cosy tubes to work
Wake! O! Asia! Wake!

The sirens rave through boulevards in broad night-light
rushing hypertensic cardiac cases from their delight-full beds
cholestrol and diabetic cane sugar within reach of every child in supermarkets
Wake! O! Asia! Wake!

Let those who succeeded their former masters
sip their sweet sweatless porto before the hors-d'oeuvres
and flap their tabliers hiding their secret shame under cabalistic arms
Wake! O! Asia! Wake!

Wake! there's little time left for your own bickering differences to fester
the dawn signals the tasks that lie ahead unfinished
and the carrion hunters trained in their old master's image club together
Wake! O! Asia! Wake!

Wake! and see the extent to which you're still enslaved
enslaved by your own kind who hanker after conditioning platitudes
the clubby comfort of secretly oath-taking power cliques
Wake! O! Asia! Wake!

Remember! Remember Haidar Ali his son Tipu and Akbar
remember Sivaji and Chandra Bose and Kattapomman and Asoka
remember O! remember the one and only Mahatma

[...] Read more

poem by T. Wignesan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Buzz has reduced my range. Running safely with him means using fewer and shorter routes, with multiple laps per day or multiple returns there per week. Neither of us minds repeating ourselves. This is what runners do.

quote by Joe Henderson
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Dead Guy Stickers

In the USA,
They want to put dead guy pictures on cigarette packs.
With that brilliant logic in mind, I say put dead guy stickers on:
car windshields(dead guys in wrecks)
pistol and rifle handles (dead guys shot)
marriage licenses (dead spouses)
hamburger and hot dog wrappers (dead fat guys)
pies, cakes (more dead fat guys)
bathroom doors (thousands of dead guys in bathrooms every year)
bicycles (road kill dead guys)
fire places (burnt dead guys)
swimming pools (drown dead guys)
every electrical outlet (fried dead guys)
air plane tickets (dead passenger guys)
the beach (shark bit dead guys)
cities (shot dead guys)
air (blue dead guys)
fish (poisoned dead guys)
motorcycles (more road kill dead guys)
scarfs (strangled dead guys)
football helmets (brain dead guys)
hot tubs (more drowned dead guys)
and so on.
Just about everything can kill you, such as:
Mothers (dead baby guys plus dead fathers)
Fathers (dead baby guys plus dead mothers)
Police(multiple dead guys and chicks)
Drugs (multiple dead guys and chicks)
and so on.
Once everything has a dead guy sticker on it,
You've been warned and the world will be safer, right?
It shows we care, right?

poem by Richard Jarboe
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

You are my ‘Perfect Mismatch’

Yesterday I was arriving in your heart to stay
But today I am driving far, far away
Once again I can breathe clean fresh air
At ease, I dance, let loose my hair without despair
I thought I show you love with awesome care
But to myself I was never playing fair and square
I've spent my life looking for the perfect match
But it’s been seven years of patch, patch and patch

Now! I don’t care if I have to start from scratch
O! Dear, you dear are my perfect mismatch!
How could I choose you from multiple batches?
O! Dear, you dear are my perfect mismatch!

Yesterday I let my down my guide
But today, I will not drown, I will not hide
Once I thought you loved me for being me
There were times, I cried, hoping again to be free
I hope you can relate and understand
I only refer to a brand of boring husbands
Then I was full of vanity, I let go of my identity
Money and fame without love sung my song of destiny

I had years of stuff and conversation that was shallow
Yesterday I stooped low, my personal pleasures I let go
I was on the famous girl and boy dream march
Expensive clothes, champagne and a luxury yacht
I thought marriage can last with the right catch
Yes! With the perfect man, my plan is hatched!
Please my dear! Don’t blame me for those affairs
There is something about you I simply could not bear

Now! I don’t care if I have to start from scratch
O! Dear, you dear are my perfect mismatch!
How could I choose you from multiple batches?
O! Dear, you dear are my perfect mismatch!

Copyright 2008 - Sylvia Chidi

poem by Sylvia Chidi
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Artistic Consummations Unending

Man when it comes to romance
commitment to long term courtship
speak not of rocking artistic me;
and my constant consistent courtship
with my dated loose laying poetry.

In more than twenty
predominantly neglected years
I’ve never been through them all;
caught up with my neglected years
my dated draft diary entries.

I’ve got so many
loose lines lines lines
hanging heavy in my restless head;
I can never get them lines
all laid down right.

There’s too many
to save, for, a rainy day.
Multiple droplets; in their hundreds trillions;
adorn, all objects; visible on rainy days.
Hang from, transformed, rain dewed trees.

But even when the sun is still shining.
I’m still two timing, multiple poetic pieces.
I’m still too time starved; for catch up poetic binding.
I’m afraid I’m never, going to get written pieces,
through; to that last eternally unwritten line.

Hanging out waiting around for me
in expectation, of artistically, desired pick up.
When will such a courtship; finally end?
When the muse may, no longer, dances up,
her dazzling; or simplistic lines entwining me.

When I’m too tired to write my nights
my days, my artistic life, poetically away.
Then poetry will find; another poet to daze;
for days, for nights; to artistic life write away.
Then poetry will find, another poet, to courtship bard.

Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Written in July 1999 on the 17.7.99.

poem by Terence George Craddock
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!