Citatepedia^®.com

There's a lot of Doyle in me. I don't know where I begin and Doyle ends or where Doyle begins and I end.

quote by Glenn Quinn
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Double Helix Abecedarian - Xylophonic Resonance He Licks Enigmatic

XYLOPHONIC RESONANCE HE LICKS ENIGMATIC
Kindly refer to notes. and see Temptations and Poetic Pizza Extravaganza below :)

Xylophonic Resonance
double helix abecedarian

The first line begins with A and ends with Z
the next line begins with Z and ends with A
The next line begins with B and ends with Y
The next line begins with Y and ends with B
The next line begins with C and ends with X
The next line begins with X and ends with C

A to Z top down A to Z bottom up

All fizzle, finish frazzled, launched with fizZ.
Zero dreams teem when spirit seems at seA
Because most adepts of philosophY
Yearn for zenith seldom dwell on ebB,
Carpe diem value, seeking sea, sun, seX.
Xylem tree of life’s cannibalistiC
Desires corrupt deeds most men seW,
With survival’s urge soon lost indeeD.
Events churn causal patterns, AsimoV
Viewed clearly, took as starship journey cuE
Finding worlds which may appeal to yoU,
Unknown reader from beyond Time’s gulF -
Great divide between those past, those lefT -
Time travellers peruse these lines to sinG
High praise of poets who’ll know no more springS.
Spontaneousl prose poem picks pensive patH
In patter pattern, feet dance to empoweR.
Rhythm harmonious, need no alibI,
Joins sense, style versatile, from mind's H.Q.,
Questions seeks, finds answers. Soujourn’s hadJ
Knowledge acquires to share more than to keeP,
Pipes clear to others drifting through the darK.
Lark sings dawn’s welcome song, and each man’s taO
Opens connections, on life’s sea a-saiL
Ma d, sad, glad, bad, for threescore years and teN
Never certain of his mortal aiM,
Nor sure to gain posthumous fame, acclaiM,
Making ends meet in hope to rise agaiN
On judgement day should trust and faith prevaiL.
Life-spans increase but trite hullabaloO
Prepares too few for winding sheet, corpse starK,

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Where The Sidewalk Ends

Where the sidewalk ends
And the road begins
We said good bye
On a cold dark night
Im not afraid to go
You bet Im not
Where the sidewalk ends
You left a lot
Some people leave
And never come back
Some stay in touch
Some loose track
Your mind kept sayin
Come on lets go
You started learnin
What you dont need to know
Where the sidewalk ends
And the road begins
Ill wait for you
In the cold dark night
You might come back
You had to go
Where the sidewalk ends
Ill never know
Hide from the future
Run from the past
I guess Ill stay here
As long as I can last
Whistle still blowin
But the train is gone
Aint no wheels
Gonna take me from my home
Where the sidewalk ends
And the road begins
We said good bye
On a cold dark night
Im not afraid to go
You bet Im not
Where the sidewalk ends
You left a lot
Im not afraid to go
You bet Im not
Where the sidewalk ends
You left a lot
Where the sidewalk ends
And the road begins
We said good bye
On a cold dark night
Im not afraid to go
You bet Im not

[...] Read more

song performed by George Strait
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Virginia's Story

Elizabeth Gates-Wooten is my Grand mom.

She was born in Canada with her father and brothers.
They owned a Barber Shoppe.
I don't remember exactly where in Canada.
I believe it was right over the border like Windsor or Toronto.
I never knew exactly where it was.

When she was old enough she got married.

First, she married a man by the name of Frank Gates.
He was from Madagascar.
He fathered my mom and her brother and sister.
The boy's name was Frank Gates, Jr.
Two girls name were Anna and Agnes.

Agnes was my mother.

Frank Gates went crazy after the war
He drank a lot and died
Then grandma Elizabeth married a man by the name of Mr. Wooten.
He had a German name, but I don't think he was German.
She took his last name after they got married.

Then they moved to West Virginia in the United States.

Their son, Frank Gates Jr. Became a delegate in the democratic party.
He use to get into a lot of trouble because he liked to fight.
He was a delegate from the 1940's to 1970's.
He died of gout in the 1970's.

Anna was a maid and cook.

She baked cakes and stuff for people as a side line.
She had a hump on her back (scoliosis) .
She had to walk with a cane.
She could cook good though.
She did this kind of work all of her life, just like her mom, Elizabeth

They were both good cooks

They had a lot of money because they had these skills
Especially when people had parties.
Because they would make all of this food and then they would have left-overs.
We got to eat a lot of stuff we normally wouldn't get because of that.
When they cooked, they didn't use no measuring stuff, they would just use there hand.

My moms name was Agnes Barrie Gates.

She married James Wright and moved to Cleveland.

[...] Read more

poem by Talile Ali
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

When the Bush Begins to Speak

They know us not in England yet, their pens are overbold;
We're seen in fancy pictures that are fifty years too old.
They think we are a careless race - a childish race, and weak;
They'll know us yet in England, when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.

'The leaders that will be', the men of southern destiny,
Are not all found in cities that are builded by the sea;
They learn to love Australia by many a western creek,
They'll know them yet in England, when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.

All ready for the struggle, and waiting for the change,
The army of our future lies encamped beyond the range;
Australia, for her patriots, will not have far to seek;
They'll know her yet in England when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.

We'll find the peace and comfort that our fathers could not find,
Or some shall strike the good old blow that leaves a mark behind.
We'll find the Truth and Liberty our fathers came to seek,
Or let them know in England when the bush begins to speak;
When the bush begins to speak,
When the bush begins to speak,
When the west by Greed's invaded, and the bush begins to speak.

poem by Henry Lawson
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Thanks A Lot, Mom

Thanks a Lot, Mom

Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for loving me to no end.
Thanks for being my loving mother.
Thanks for being my thoughtful friend.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for feeding me and giving me a home.
Thanks for clothing me and holding me tight.
Thanks for caring when I felt alone.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for always making me smile.
Thanks for giving me the extra push.
Thanks for going that extra mile.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for living with no regrets.
Thanks for being the life of the party.
Thanks for going all in on bets.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for being my inspiration.
Thanks for helping me with my homework.
Thanks for giving me motivation.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for treating me with respect.
Thanks for knowing I'm growing up.
Thanks for knowing what to expect.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for kicking me while I was down.
Thanks for telling me I'm a liar.
Thanks for knowing what comes around.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for giving me my many scars.
Thanks for making me feel at home.
Thanks for breaking my aching heart.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for taking away my friends.
Thanks for taking away my family.
Thanks for not having to pretend.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for kicking me out of my home.
Thanks for calling me cheap and attention-seeking.
Thanks for putting me out on my own.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for ripping away my Brett.
Thanks for saying you don't remember.
Thanks for saying I should forget.
Thanks a lot, Mom.
Thanks for believing your husband over your kid.
Thanks for rewarding him for a crime.
Thanks for punishing me for what he did.

[...] Read more

poem by Rebecca Paul
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Opposite Begins

When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
That one agitated,
Finds an exit and splits.

People known to create conflict,
Seek an attention they don't get...
Until,
The opposite begins.
Opposition steps in.

They pretend a trust to believe,
To have others perceive but...
The opposite begins,
For them.

Wake up and take notice,
That the opposite begins for them.
Those who charade innocence.
The opposite begins for them.
Those masking evil intent.
The opposite begins for them.

When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
Well,
The opposite begins.
The opposite begins.
And...
That one agitated,
Finds an exit and splits.
But then,
The opposite begins.
The opposite begins.

That one who's had it,
Splits and runs into love...
To know the opposite begins,
When someone genuine comes in...
To view.

When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
Well,
The opposite begins.
The opposite begins.
And...
That one who's had it,
Splits and runs into love...
To know the opposite begins,

[...] Read more

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

Dark Eyed Doyle

Dark eyed Doyle they called him,
And he was dark eyed too. His eyes
Like black olives in white snow, his
Mother said. Had a way with girls,
An electrifying smile, an engaging
Manner. Not a bit like his father,
Grumpy, self righteous and always
Quoting the Bible, thumping the
Black cover. Danny Doyle could
Charm birds from trees, make his
Girlfriend’s mother giggle like she’d
Been tickled, make her father fume
Behind his newspaper with thinking
He knew what that Doyle was up to.
Doyle was a closed book; many read
His cover and liked what they saw,
Others didn’t and didn’t venture any
Further or deeper than the skin on
His nose. Ah, said Doyle, God alone
Knows me inside out and He alone is
My best judge, others can only know
What they think they see, but God alone,
Knows my real faults, knows the real me.

poem by Terry Collett
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Your Racist Friend

This is where the party ends
I cant stand here listening to you
And your racist friend
I know politics bore you
But I feel like a hypocrite talking to you
And your racist friend
It was the loveliest party that Ive ever attended
If anything was broken Im sure it could be mended
My head cant tolerate this bobbing and pretending
Listen to some bullet-head and the madness that hes saying
This is where the party ends
Ill just sit here wondering how you
Can stand by your racist friend
I know politics bore you
But I feel like a hypocrite talking to you
You and your racist friend
This is where the party ends
I cant stand here listening to you
And your racist friend
I know politics bore you
But I feel like a hypocrite talking to you
And your racist friend
Out from the kitchen to the bedroom to the hallway
Your friend apologizes, he could see it my way
He let the contents of the bottle do the thinking
Cant shake the devils hand and say youre only kidding
This is where the party ends
I cant stand here listening to you
And your racist friend
I know politics bore you
But I feel like a hypocrite talking to you
And your racist friend
Notes
Most alternate versions are very similar. the farthest removed is the extended mix dial-a-song version:
This is where the party ends
I cant stand here wondering how you
Can stand by your racist friend
This is where the party ends
I cant stand here wondering how you
Can stand by your racist friend
It was the loveliest party
That Ive ever attended
If anything got broken
Im sure it could be mended
But my head cant stand this bobbin and pretendin
Tolerate some bullethead and the bullshit that hes sayin
This is where the party ends
I cant stand here listening to your
Your racist friend
This is where the party ends

[...] Read more

song performed by They Might Be Giants
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Dangerous Type

Can I touch you, are you out of touch
I guess I never noticed that much
Geranium lover, Im live on your wire
Oo come and take me whoever you are
Shes a lot like you
The dangerous type
Shes a lot like you
Come on and hold me tight
Oo inside angel, always upset
Keeps on forgettin that we ever met
Can I bring you out in the light
My curiositys got me tonight
Shes a lot like you
The dangerous type
Oo shes a lot like you
Come on and hold me tight
Museum directors with high shaking heads
They kick white shadows until they play dead
They want to crack your crossword smile
Oo can I take you out for awhile, yeah
Shes a lot like you
The dangerous type
Shes a lot like you
Come on and hold me tight
Shes a lot like you
The dangerous type
Shes a lot like you
Come on and hold me tight
Tonight
Shes a lot like you
The dangerous type
Shes a lot like you
Come on and hold me tight
Tonight
Shes a lot like you
The dangerous type, alright
Shes a lot like you
Come on and hold me tight
(tonight) tonight
Shes a lot like you
The dangerous type
Tonight
Shes a lot like you
Come on and hold me tight
Tonight
Shes a lot like you
The dangerous type
Shes a lot like you
Tonight
Shes a lot like you

[...] Read more

song performed by Cars
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

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
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Keep looking for loose ends; Keep alive and kicking

Keep looking for loose ends, Keep alive and kicking

The very essence of survival among
All living systems lies in the
Locating of loose ends and fixing them adequately

Making of another million
May be one’s loose end while
Winning the next meal
May be that of some one else
Growth of his industrial empire
May be the loose end of an entrepreneur, while
Moving on to the next stage in the spiritual path
May be that of someone different
Getting a loan for building own accommodation
May be some other’s loose end while
Paying back the availed loan
May be the loose end of a third other person
Keeping in tact his political position and
Getting a suitable placemen
May be other loose ends, which are common
Building a new nest may be a bird’s loose end while
Snatching the next prey may be a tiger’s loose end

Thus all are after loose ends

The fact is that locating a loose end is not really the end
As loose ends by themselves are no issues
Loose ends get entangled and invite
New and unknown complications

Some know their loose ends
They seemingly do not think or act on these
May be they are confident of meeting the resultant
Complications effectively and adequately

Some are lost in worrying over the complications
And they find no time to fix loose ends
Loose ends remain loose anytime to blow up
With unexpected implications

It is indeed, the desire that fix loose ends
This desire leads these people as how to fix them
They act on the knowledge and secure loose ends

Loose ends are really fixed by
Emotion-free and knowledge-based actions

So,

[...] Read more

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

Double Helix Abecedarian - 1859 - Xylophonic Resonance

All fizzle, finish frazzled, launched with fizZ.
Zero dreams teem when spirit seems at seA
Because most adepts of philosophY
Yearn for zenith seldom dwell on ebB,
Carpe diem value, seeking sea, sun, seX.
Xylem tree of life's cannibalistiC
Desires corrupt deeds most men seW,
With survival's urge soon lost indeeD.
Events churn causal patterns, AsimoV
Viewed clearly, took as starship journey cuE
Finding worlds which may appeal to yoU,
Unknown reader from beyond Time's gulF -
Great divide between those past, those lefT -
Time travellers peruse these lines to sinG
High praise of poets who'll know no more springS.
Spontaneousl prose poem picks pensive patH
In patter pattern, feet dance to empoweR.
Rhythm harmonious, need no alibI,
Joins sense, style versatile, from mind's H.Q.,
Questions seeks, finds answers. Soujourn's hadJ
Knowledge acquires to share more than to keeP,
Pipes clear to others drifting through the darK.
Lark sings dawn's welcome song, and each man's taO
Opens connections, on life's sea a-saiL
Ma d, sad, glad, bad, for threescore years and teN
Never certain of his mortal aiM,
Nor sure to gain posthumous fame, acclaiM,
Making ends meet in hope to rise agaiN
On judgement day should trust and faith prevaiL.
Life-spans increase but trite hullabaloO
Prepares too few for winding sheet, corpse starK,
Kings, Presidents and crowd condemned to sleeP,
Quest over, in no Shah Jehan's fair TaJ,
Judge! Wonders of the world in tome or FAQ
Remain till flood or earthquake SvengalI
Identitydestroys when come their houR.
Stands Rhodes' Colossus stony eyed and higH?
Hanging Gardens, Babylon's green GrasS?
Thus earth all swallows, as the changes rinG
Glut or famine, leaves the rich berefT,
Upsets regimes, and redefines itselF.
Fresh or stale, hale, halt, Huns, Goths, AinU,
Vandals, Franks, forgotten, vain their strifE, -
Eternity mocks Boris KasparoV
When chess game lasts millenia whose speeD
Defies time travel's role-reversal floW.
Xanthic parchments, works iconographiC
Crumble! What Tyrannosaurus reX
Yet rules blue planet? Will ant, spider weB,
Be as extinct as world wide web one daY?

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

We Care A Lot

We care a lot
We care a lot
We care a lot about disasters, fires, floods and killer bees
We care a lot about nasa shuttle falling in the sea
We care a lot about starvation and the food that live aid bought
We care a lot about disease, baby, rock hudson, rock yeah!
We care a lot
We care a lot
We care a lot about the gamblers and the pushers and the freaks
We care a lot about the people who live off the street
We care a lot about the welfare of all the boys and girls
We care a lot about you people cause were out to save the world
Yeah!
(chorus) and its a dirty job but someones got to do it!
We care a lot about the army, navy, air force, and marines
We care a lot about the ny, sf, and lapd
We care a lot about you people, about your guns
We care a lot about the wars youre fighting, gee, that looks like fun
We care a lot about the cabbage patch, the smurfs, and dmc
We care a lot about madonna and we cop for mr.t
We care a lot about the little things, the bigger things we top
We care a lot about you people, yeah, you bet we care a lot
(chorus) and its a dirty job but someones gotta do it....

song performed by Faith No More
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

V. Count Guido Franceschini

Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Mama Says

Eat a lot sleep a lot brush em like crazy
Run a lot do a lot never be lazy
(good boy)
Eat a lot sleep a lot brush em like crazy
Run a lot do a lot never be lazy
Eat a lot sleep a lot brush em like crazy
Run a lot do a lot never be lazy
Eat a lot sleep a lot brush em like crazy
Run a lot do a lot never be lazy
Never be lazy be lazy
Eat a lot sleep a lot brush em like crazy
Run a lot do a lot never be lazy boy
Poof!

song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

If It Was About A Lot Of Money

If it was about a lot of money...
My mind would be,
Trimmed in dollar bills.
With-my-thoughts-on a million of them,
And a caring less of my fellowman.

And if it was about a lot of money...
I'd ignore,
Every two cents made.
By anybody wanting to deliver to me,
Any consciousness attached to common sense.

If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money...
I wouldn't be concerned about the suffering seen.

And if it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
And if it was about a lot of money...
My eyes wouldn't cry when I see these scenes.

If it was about a lot of money...
My mind would be,
Trimmed in dollar bills.
With-my-thoughts-on a million of them,
And a caring less of my fellowman.

If it was about a lot of money...
I'd ignore,
Every two cents made.
By anybody wanting to deliver to me,
Any consciousness to instigate.

If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money...
I wouldn't be concerned about the suffering seen.

I'd fill my pockets and get away!
If it was about a lot of money.
I'd fill my pockets each and everyday.
If it was about a lot of money.
I'd fill my pockets and get away!
If it was about a lot of money.
I'd fill my pockets up and run the other way.
If it was about a lot of money.

If it was about a lot of money.
If it was about a lot of money.

[...] Read more

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

Double Helix Abecedarian - Temptations

A maiden fair met Mr. Z,
Zealous bigot not her cup of teA,
Before accepting Mr. Y
Years eight and eighty, not a deB,
Could nor with him nor Mr. X,
Xanax share, they weren't pneumatiC.
Decided that Mr. W
Was far too fat, had a big heaD,
Ended that and turned to Mr. V -
Viagra prized more than virtuE.
Found naught in common with Mr. U
Unkempt, distraught and very stifF
Gladly told him so and lefT
To an appointment with Mr.G -
His voice was raucous, spectacleS
Shady, of uncertain healtH,
Insensitive, an arrant cuR,
Ready to furnish alibI.
Judged him too seedy. Mr. Q
Questions refused to answer. Mr. J
Knew little, so she lost no sleeP,
Perplexedly, lost, in the darK.
Little Miss French called Mr. O
Of Bury St. Edmonds, and, bad girL
Made eyes, flirting with other meN
Now here now there as Cupid's aiM,
Netted another victim, SaM:
Most unfortunately Sam loved BeN,
Or was it Harry PercevaL,
'Life's full of surprises', she said, 'whO
Prepares for doomsday earthquake cracK? '
Kind lady then turned to Mr P
Queried his clothes, while Mr. J.
Just turned her down for some Miss Q -
Rebuttal neither you nor I
Is sure to understand because her floweR
Scent seductive low and higH?
Had perfumed all about who pasS
Their days around her, praises sinG,
Giff thanks for such a musky wafT,
Unusual neighborhoods does whifF.
Fair lady recovered, Mr. U,
Vain she found him, then fell her eyE
Eagle like on Mr. V
Who seemed as favorite most aheaD -
Dream dashed too soon when she did knoW.
Xavier his name was, saturnine sceptiC,
Crude of speech and rude of seX
Yet self-important spendthrift criB.
Befuddled by love she turned to Lady SlY,

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Double Helix Abecedarian - 1862 - Poetical Pizza Extravaganza

Above average poetry must whizZ
Zestfully forwards as imagination's fleA,
Bites the author's itchy fingers. Cells greY
Yearn to express opinions, play, or graB
Conspicuous attention with honeyed words which waX
Xanadu with Coleridge nectar or express themes romantiC,
Devise riddles whose floW
Will offer encouragement to those who reaD
Enthusiastically or with excitement, able to reV
Vers libres, prose or traditional versE,
Formally structured or free before life says adieU.
Unlimited possibilities, both flexible and stifF
Glow, grow and encourage lighT
Themes, weighty arguments, or emotional sonG,
Heavy here, light there, avoiding pretentiousnesS,
Shaky grammar, bolstering inner growtH
Insight and altogether acting as an intellectual spuR
Rewarding to both reader and writer where not restricted to the I,
Judgemental values shed from Zimbabwe to IraQ.
Quest for recognition is perceived as holy hadJ,
Karmic grail accorded toP
Priority for life's boat that sooner or later springs a leaK,
Leaving little to survive Lethe's oblivion shampoO
Or inspire others to saiL
Manfully upon seas uncharted by other men or womeN.
New forms in themselves add no gleaM
Natural to the poetic book of life, and often lose steaM,
Mostly because of inaccessibility. Experiments abecedariaN
Or atonal contemporary 'e-zines' under whatever vanity labeL
Leave much to be desired, their quality is freequently toO
Poor to last, too topical, too obscure, or too darK.
Keeping in mind that the poet's creative leaP,
Quest, or self-centred search for memorial TaJ
Jehan might have longed to build in verse or prose colloQ
Remains forever elusive to most who use writing as an alibI
Inconclusive to compensate for the fact they are not up to paR
Sufficient for the course, and double bogey their entH
Half-hearted drive towards the proverbial Elysian green pastureS.
Thus, to quote Keats, the 'eternal longinG
Goes phut, stutters, stumbles, failed or forgotten, inspiration cuT,
Undone ambitions, prose or rhyme ugly and or stifF.
Final verdict is too often left to self-styled critics acting in lieU,
Vanity frequently fails to catch Fame's eyE,
Efforts dissipated, or meeting the same fate as BrezhneV
Whose invasion of Afganistan leaD
Directly to the Soviet collapse. Poetry should represent harmony and floW
Xcluding tongue-in-cheek prolifiC
Coarse unworked sentences such as those in this particular heliX.
Years later this thesis may, although written adliB,
Become a classic example of erudite poetic wordplaY

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Too Much Of Anything

I think these hands have felt a lot,
I think these hands have felt a lot,
I dont know, what have I touched,
I dont know, what have I touched,
I think these eyes have seen a lot,
I think these eyes have seen a lot,
I dont know, maybe theyve seen too much.
I dont know, maybe theyve seen too much.
I think this brain has thought a lot,
I think this brain has thought a lot,
Searching, trying to find the crutch,
Searching, trying to find the crutch,
I think this heart has bled once too often,
I think this heart has bled once too often,
This time its bled a bit too much.
This time its bled a bit too much.
Too much of anything, too much for me,
Too much of anything, too much for me,
Too much of everything gets too much for me.
Too much of everything gets too much for me.
I cant remember before 49,
I cant remember before 49,
But I know that 48 was there,
But I know that 48 was there,
My ears let in what I should speak out,
My ears let in what I should speak out,
Hmmm, theres something in the air.
Hmmm, theres something in the air.
Ooh, Ive overloaded on my way,
Ooh, Ive overloaded on my way,
Bye, bye, bye, bye, you better keep in touch.
Bye, bye, bye, bye, you better keep in touch.
Think your ears hear a whole lot of music,
Think your ears hear a whole lot of music,
And like me theyve caught a bit too much.
And like me theyve caught a bit too much.
Too much of anything, is too much for me,
Too much of anything, is too much for me,
Too much of everything gets too much for me.
Too much of everything gets too much for me.
I think these hands have felt a lot,
I think these hands have felt a lot,
I dont know, what have I touched,
I dont know, what have I touched,
I think these eyes have seen a lot,
I think these eyes have seen a lot,
I dont know, maybe theyve seen too much.
I dont know, maybe theyve seen too much.
I think this brain has thought a lot,
I think this brain has thought a lot,

[...] Read more

song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!