Americans are very friendly and very suspicious, that is what Americans are and that is what always upsets the foreigner, who deals with them, they are so friendly how can they be so suspicious they are so suspicious how can they be so friendly but they just are.
quote by Gertrude Stein
Added by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
O foreigner
You have stolen my soul O foreigner
I have lost self-control O foreigner
You have given me dream O foreigner
My passion turns extreme O foreigner
You are so beautiful O foreigner
You are so warm and cool O foreigner
I am impressed so much O foreigner
I long for your sweet touch O foreigner
I want your yummy kiss O foreigner
You are the one I miss O foreigner
I am waiting for you O foreigner
Come on let me love you O foreigner
poem by Asif Andalib
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Suspicion Is Contageous
Scene 1.
When I feel warm in the middle of the night,
I suspect that electricity is cut off as usual
When I bite a pebble while eating rice,
I suspect that it is adulterated as usual.
When I am denied a seat to the university,
I suspect that I am less eligible than others, as usual.
When I am left to fend on my own with family and friend's support,
I suspect that my country is as useless as I, as usual.
Scene 2.
When I come out with my sling bag and laptop,
I am suspicious of everyone who looks at me.
When I walk to the tube and sit there comfortably,
I close my eyes tightly to avoid the suspicious eyes.
When I enter the workplace and talk to my colleagues,
who are as suspicious as I, exchange the suspicious greetings.
Wherever I go, I see the people who are suspicious of others,
cameras to catch the suspicious looking characters,
unattended bags are removed within half an hour,
for the fear of suspicious people planting bombs,
in some other places literally no rubbish bins,
and I am allowed to throw wherever I like,
and people are watching me always as a suspect,
and that makes me to be suspicious of them too.
When I come out with my sling bag,
I am suspicious of everyone who looka at me.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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(Bitter Poem) If My Poem Upset You, I'm Just So Sorry
If my poem upsets,
I'm just so sorry
No need to worry
Your not speaking anyways
And that's okay
If my poem upsets,
I'm just so sorry
Anger begets anger my friend
Deny it till the end
But were like snakes each with our own venom
If my poem upsets
I'm just so sorry
Here please hand me a tissue
So I can wipe the floor with you
You have no clue
If my poems upset
I'm just so sorry
I won't impersonate
I will speak my version of the truth
Let loose
If my poems upset
I'm just so sorry
But you don't have read, or concede
Just breath
Count to ten and it will be fine again
If my poems upset
I'm just sorry
But don't insult me with your self gratification
Your better then everyone else
To hell with you
If my poems upset
I'm just so sorry
But what is done, is done
You don't even know me
Yet you hand your opinions like candy.
If my poem upsets you
I'm just so sorry
But I didn't mention your name
You weren't dethroned or defamed
Point the finger and blame
By all means please do
If my poem upset you
[...] Read more
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Goody for Our Side and Your Side Too
Foreigners are people somewhere else,
Natives are people at home;
If the place you’re at
Is your habitat,
You’re a foreigner, say in Rome.
But the scales of Justice balance true,
And tit leads into tat,
So the man who’s at home
When he stays in Rome
Is abroad when he’s where you’re at.
When we leave the limits of the land in which
Our birth certificates sat us,
It does not mean
Just a change of scene,
But also a change of status.
The Frenchman with his fetching beard,
The Scot with his kilt and sporran,
One moment he
May a native be,
And the next may find him foreign.
There’s many a difference quickly found
Between the different races,
But the only essential
Differential
Is living different places.
Yet such is the pride of prideful man,
From Austrians to Australians,
That wherever he is,
He regards as his,
And the natives there, as aliens.
Oh, I’ll be friends if you’ll be friends,
The foreigner tells the native,
And we’ll work together for our common ends
Like a preposition and a dative.
If our common ends seem mostly mine,
Why not, you ignorant foreigner?
And the native replies
Contrariwise;
And hence, my dears, the coroner.
So mind your manners when a native, please,
And doubly when you visit
And between us all
A rapport may fall
Ecstatically exquisite.
One simple thought, if you have it pat,
Will eliminate the coroner:
[...] Read more
poem by Ogden Nash
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Suspicious Look In Your Eyes
(clarke / hicks / nash)
Youve got that suspicious look in your eyes
Youve got that suspicious look in your eyes
Somehow at times I read your mind
You just float in a cloud above me
Youve no control of what you say
And no faith in the things that I do
If I question you
Its not because Im prying
I give you my best
So why dont you start trying
We used to act and think alike
No regrets after things that wed done
Youre changing all your thoughts of me
Youve no right to put me down this way
I believe in you
So it seems worth trying
You sound so sincere
But when I look at you
Youve got that suspicious look in your eyes
Youve got that suspicious look in your eyes
Break
At times I think it seems so clear
But your eyes plague my mind, its no use
They pierce, they glare, they seem to stare
If they spoke what a story theyd tell
I believe in you
So it seems worth trying
You sound so sincere
But when I look at you
Youve got that suspicious look in your eyes
Youve got that suspicious look in your eyes
Youve got that suspicious look in your eyes
Youve got that suspicious look in your eyes
song performed by Hollies
Added by Lucian Velea
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In Suspicious Pieces
You've got my heart locked up.
And I'm not in a conscious focus...
Not sure if I want to clear.
This whoosie blues too.
That's trapped in a fantasy cage.
I've gotten use to being accused.
You've got my heart locked up,
In suspicious pieces.
And not sure what it is I feel.
My head keeps right on,
Knocking.
With a heart feeling like it's hit by rocks.
And the hitting of the rocks wont seem to stop.
My head keeps right on,
Knocking.
With a heart feeling like it's hit by rocks.
And the hitting of the rocks wont seem to stop.
You've got my heart locked up,
In suspicious pieces.
And not sure what it is I feel.
And what I feel is the real deal.
You've got my heart locked up,
In suspicious pieces.
And not sure what it is I feel.
And what I feel is the real deal.
My head keeps right on,
Knocking.
With a heart feeling like it's hit by rocks.
You've got my heart locked up,
In suspicious pieces.
And not sure what it is I feel.
And what I feel is the real deal.
You've got my heart locked up,
In suspicious pieces.
And I don't know what it is that I feel.
You've got my heart locked up,
In suspicious pieces.
And I don't know what it is that I feel.
You've got my heart locked up,
In suspicious pieces.
And I don't know what it is that I feel.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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This Is Precious
This is precious.
And, the freshest yet.
The surface is golden,
With more of it...
In it's depth!
Yeah.
This is precious.
And, the freshest yet.
The surface is golden,
With more of it...
In it's depth!
Yeah.
People should be more expressive,
With more of that shown...
From a depth.
Yeah.
People should stop their feeding,
On more nonsense that will upset.
Yeah!
People should spend time finding,
More happiness for them to get.
And forget about a past to sack and pack,
Yeah!
People should be more expressive.
With more of that and from a depth,
Yeah.
People should expand their minds...
But they want to find that which upsets.
Confessing unhappiness and their regrets,
Yeah.
This is precious.
And, the freshest yet.
The surface is golden,
With more of it...
In it's depth!
Yeah.
People should be more expressive.
With more of that and from a depth,
Yeah.
People should expand their minds...
But they want to find that which upsets.
Confessing unhappiness and their regrets,
Yeah.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What Today I Must Do
Again I am given,
Another day to age and witness.
Another day to know I am blessed and protected,
With a faith that God accepts.
Expressed is appreciation,
For everyone that I've ever met.
Although I am still a work-in-progress,
I can and will forgive and forget.
And what today I must do,
With a giving of my next breath...
Is to do my very best to benefit,
Regardless of a test that upsets.
And what today I must do,
Regardless of a test that upsets.
Is to do my very best to forgive and forget.
And what today I must do,
Regardless of a test that upsets.
Is to do my very best to forgive and forget.
Again I am given,
Another day to age and witness.
Another day to know I am blessed and protected,
With a faith that God accepts.
God knows I'm a work-in-progress.
Today what I must do,
Is forgive and forget.
With a knowing I'm a work-in-progess.
And today what I must do,
Is forgive and forget.
With a knowing I'm a work-in-progess.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Suspicious Signs
Say whats that thing
On your back
Well I guess its a hair
And the hair is black
I got you on the phone
You said youre all alone
I heard these boots on the floor
And I beg you baby please no more
Suspicious signs
What do I see
Suspicious signs
Suspicious signs
Now everythings so strange
Not how it used to be
I call you up at three
And you say you cant talk to me
Say whats it all about
Why do you talk that loud
I hear your fingertips
Playing with italian hips
Suspicious signs
What do I see
Suspicious signs
Suspicious signs
song performed by Fury In The Slaughterhouse
Added by Lucian Velea
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This Friendly World
R.E.M., Andy, Tony---This Friendly World
ANDY: Hi, Michael.
MICHAEL: Hi, Andy. Thanks for joining us. Do you
wanna ... you wanna sing a song together?
ANDY: Sure! Is it a sweet song?
MICHAEL: Yeah, it's real sweet.
ANDY: O.K.!
[They laugh.]
MICHAEL:
In this friendly, friendly world
With each day so full of joy
Why should any heart be lonely?
ANDY: My turn!
In this friendly, friendly world
With each night so full of dreams
Why should any heart be afraid?
The world is ...
MICHAEL ANDY:
... such a wonderful place
To wander through
When you've got someone you love
MICHAEL:
To wander along with you
ANDY: O.K., now take every second word! With ...
MICHAEL: ... the ...
ANDY: ... sky ...
MICHAEL: ... so ...
ANDY: ... full ...
MICHAEL: ... of ...
ANDY: ... stars
MICHAEL: And ...
ANDY: ... the ...
MICHAEL: ... river ...
ANDY: ... so ...
MICHAEL: ... full ...
ANDY: ... of ...
MICHAEL: ... song, Every ...
ANDY: ... heart ...
MICHAEL: ... should ...
ANDY: ... be ...
MICHAEL: ... so ...
ANDY: ... thankful
It's a friendly world! Don't you think so, Michael?
MICHAEL: Yup!
TONY: Oh yeah?! What's so friendly about it?!!
This is Tony Clifton, and, and I demand a part in
this song! I'm just as big a part of the movie as
these guys are! And, and I will not sit back while
some sought-after Colonel Kurtz wanna-be, uh, uh
has his day in the sun! I think he's enough
[...] Read more
song performed by REM
Added by Lucian Velea
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Philadelphia Revised
The sad images of Philadelphia popped out of my eyes today
And I could see the streets of Philadelphia where the homeless sleeps
And freeze to death
While Politicians, doctors, Dentists, lawyers, teachers, and nurses get rich
Day by day
But the homeless freeze to death in the streets of Philadelphia and even die
But I have to ask all of you fellow americans where is your heart?
And doesn't charity starts at home first?
Don't you have anything at home that you could give away to the Homeless so they could have something either to wear or to eat?
Why can't we feed the homeless?
I can't understand you fellow Americans?
Please put yourself in their shoes for a day and try to picture what do they Have to go throw everyday
Is it right for the homeless to sleep in the streets and freeze and eventualy Die in the streets of Philadelphia?
Would you fellow Americans go few days without eating?
I don't think so
Why should the homeless that lives in the streets of Philadelphia starve?
Fellow Americans it is time to think about others and not just yourself Because others live In America just like you
Fellow Americans do you have a heart?
Fellow Americans did you ever learned to share what you have with Others?
Fellow Americans America is a sad world because we waste 98% of our Food at home, restaurants, and supermarkets
And all that wasted food ends up in the dump
It is so ashame and so sad at the same time
But the truth is that we are running out of food
And there is not enough food to feed anyone in America
But the cost of food keeps going up
Because we have to pay the American farmers who plants the food and Transport the food to the supermarkets
poem by Aldo Kraas
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March Horse Fair Day
The morning has a heavy winter chill
And dark rain clouds move over Clara hill
And the old man says that the rain will bucket down
As he stands holding his horse in the Square at Millstreet Town.
In Ireland on March the first the sun doesn't often shine
In fact the day is seldom ever fine
Old February till latter March remain
You take your hat and coat expecting rain.
Near 10 A.M. it makes a heavy shower
And it keeps on raining maybe for an hour
And horses and their owners soaked right to the skin
But rain doesn't worry tough horse loving men.
The deals were clinched with hand slap and hand shake
Your bond your word and your word you would not break
The Town Square packed with people young and old
And deals were done and many horses sold.
And people there from many walks of life
The travelling man with his children and wife,
And the man who owns forty acres of moor
By any standards he's considered poor.
And wealthy farmer down south for the day
To buy good horse and make the journey pay
And horses changed hands when the deals were made
And Uptown pubs were doing a roaring trade.
My thoughts return to happier days gone by
When I was younger and a school going boy
And March horse fair was always school free day
The better memories with us tend to stay.
And I too went to Millstreet old Town Square
For to watch the dealings and the barterings there,
The slap of hands, the handshakes deals were done
And old friendships renewed and new friendships were won.
A nip of winter in the morning air
As people made their way to the horse fair
A shame about the weather some did say
But rain or sleet did not keep them away.
A time of year between winter and spring
Too cold and early yet for birds to sing
Old February till latter March remain
[...] Read more
poem by Francis Duggan
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New Angels Of Promise
New angels of promise (do do do do)
We despair
We are the dead dreams (oh ho ho ho)
We take the blame
Take us to the edge of time
Take us to the edge of time
We are the fabulous lovers
Im a blind man and shes my eyes
Suspicious minds
You didnt feel us coming
In this lonely crowd, its always time
Suspicious minds
You didnt feel us coming
In this lonely crowd, its always time
New angels of promise (do do do do) we despise
(do do do do) dont fall apart now
(ah ho ho ho) we are the silent ones
Take us to the edge of time
Take us to the edge of time
We are the tabular lovers
We listen to the storm
Suspicious nights
You didnt feel us coming in this lonely crowd, its always time
Suspicious minds
You didnt feel us coming
In this lonely crowd, its always time
New angels of promise, we despair
We are the dead dreams (ah ho ho ho)
We take the blame
Take us to the egde of time
Take us to the edge of time
We are the fabulous lovers
I am a blind man and she is my eyes
Suspicious mind
You didnt feel us coming in this lonely crowd, its always time
Supicious minds
You didnt feel us coming in this lonely crowd, its always time
Supicious minds
You didnt feel us coming in this lonely crowd, its always time
Its always time
Its always time
Its always time
song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Rosciad
Unknowing and unknown, the hardy Muse
Boldly defies all mean and partial views;
With honest freedom plays the critic's part,
And praises, as she censures, from the heart.
Roscius deceased, each high aspiring player
Push'd all his interest for the vacant chair.
The buskin'd heroes of the mimic stage
No longer whine in love, and rant in rage;
The monarch quits his throne, and condescends
Humbly to court the favour of his friends;
For pity's sake tells undeserved mishaps,
And, their applause to gain, recounts his claps.
Thus the victorious chiefs of ancient Rome,
To win the mob, a suppliant's form assume;
In pompous strain fight o'er the extinguish'd war,
And show where honour bled in every scar.
But though bare merit might in Rome appear
The strongest plea for favour, 'tis not here;
We form our judgment in another way;
And they will best succeed, who best can pay:
Those who would gain the votes of British tribes,
Must add to force of merit, force of bribes.
What can an actor give? In every age
Cash hath been rudely banish'd from the stage;
Monarchs themselves, to grief of every player,
Appear as often as their image there:
They can't, like candidate for other seat,
Pour seas of wine, and mountains raise of meat.
Wine! they could bribe you with the world as soon,
And of 'Roast Beef,' they only know the tune:
But what they have they give; could Clive do more,
Though for each million he had brought home four?
Shuter keeps open house at Southwark fair,
And hopes the friends of humour will be there;
In Smithfield, Yates prepares the rival treat
For those who laughter love, instead of meat;
Foote, at Old House,--for even Foote will be,
In self-conceit, an actor,--bribes with tea;
Which Wilkinson at second-hand receives,
And at the New, pours water on the leaves.
The town divided, each runs several ways,
As passion, humour, interest, party sways.
Things of no moment, colour of the hair,
Shape of a leg, complexion brown or fair,
A dress well chosen, or a patch misplaced,
Conciliate favour, or create distaste.
From galleries loud peals of laughter roll,
And thunder Shuter's praises; he's so droll.
Embox'd, the ladies must have something smart,
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Churchill
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Gertrude Stein is interviewed on American poetry
and there was the knocking on the door
that we were expecting
and it was the man
that we were expecting
with the questions we were expecting
to which answers were expected
by those who expect answers
as if life were like that
which for writers it is not
yes, tea was drunk
and after tea the tape recorder set up
so that what I said
I would continue to say
somewhere else
even when I changed my mind
here and nowhere else
and he said Ms Stein
what do you think of American poetry
and we said well it's American
and it's poetry
that's as it should be
and really that's all there is to say
and the man looked disappointed
so we asked him did he read poetry
and he said poetry no I dont read poetry
but my editor does
so I said it's really about Americans
living their lives
that's what American poetry is really about
because Americans move around
and so their words move around and
words in English have lost their intensity
but American words are always on the move
and they are more intense
yes, Americans living among Americans
and talking to their neighbours
if it's not about that
it's not really American poetry at all is it
if it's not about that
then why bother writing poetry
and the man was asking about a rose
being a rose being a rose and we said
for a hundred years the rose
has not been red in poetry
but now for the first time in a hundred years
the rose is red again
[...] Read more
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Two Birds Wished To Be Friendly
1 Two birds wished to be friendly
I was the messenger winged
Hither thither cuckoo and magpie
Two birds wished to be friendly
'Come here, o' dear, come here'
coo~~coo~~coo~~~in rising notes
Two birds wished to be friendly
I was the messenger winged
2 Hither thither cuckoo and magpie
Two birds wished to be friendly
I was the messenger winged
Hither thither cuckoo and magpie
Warbling, whistling, fluty trilling
Magpie just couldn't let me read
Hither thither cuckoo and magpie
Two birds wished to be friendly
3 Two birds wished to be friendly
I was the messenger plucked punished
Gloomed cuckoo, confused magpie
Two birds wished to be friendly
Reading failing, messaging failing
Loamy homey cuckoo angry with me
Two birds wished to be friendly
I was the messenger plucked punished
poem by Indira Renganathan
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I would describe myself as emotional and highly strung. If something upsets me, it really upsets me. If something makes me angry, I get really angry. But it's all very upfront. I can't hide it. I'm also loyal and I hope I'm fun.
quote by Nicole Kidman
Added by Lucian Velea
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Conflicted In Mind
You come in a huff expecting confrontation.
And when you notice none appears,
This clearly upsets your wishes.
And when I tell you,
What you expect is not here...
This angers your mission to see it.
You come in a huff expecting confrontation.
And when you notice none appears,
This clearly upsets your wishes.
And when I tell you,
What you expect is not here...
This angers your mission to see it.
And you say I am the one conflicted in mind.
But that attitude you carry around,
Stays with you all the time in view!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Trouble Gets Double Treatment
When,
A stretching ends.
A yawn begins.
When that stretching ends.
When,
A thought process...
Accepts mediocrity achieved,
To be one's best.
And this,
Unconsciously...
Stirs the acceptance,
Of a restless nonsense.
Trouble gets...
Double treatment,
That...
Upsets.
Those,
Who protest...
Growth.
And,
Regrets...
A foolishness,
One...
Protects!
YES!
Trouble gets,
Double treatment...
That,
Upsets.
Those,
Who protest...
Growth.
And,
Regrets...
A foolishness,
One...
Protects!
When,
A stretching ends.
A yawn begins.
When that stretching ends.
With taxes applied,
At the max!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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