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Lady Gaga

Pop stars should not eat.

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Children Should Not Have To Be Homeless

There are thousands of homeless children in Beijing in China though that is not suprising to hear
For where there is a huge population there is poverty too 'twould appear
And China to anywhere else is no different the rich getting richer they say
And just beyond the leafy suburb is the suburb of neglect and decay.

There are thousands of homeless children in New York though with that some may not agree
In America the great Land of commerce no such a thing as poverty?
But the facts of course will tell you differently and in a World of inequality
There too are children homeless and hungry in the so called Land of the free.

There are homeless children in London in England as well as in Paris in France
The poor children of the poor suburb in life they do not have a chance
Their parents in Jail for drug abuse they become the kids of the street
They search the rubbish bins for food in dark alleys and what others do throw out they eat.

There are homeless children in Sydney and Melbourne and anywhere else one might name
Though that does not seem to affect us we never reflect on our shame
That many should have to grow poorer for one to become a millionaire
In a truly egalatarian society would never be looked on as fair.

Children should not have to be homeless though born into abject poverty
They should not be punished for the sins of their parents so much for our humanity
And money to some all that matters and money is married to success
Whilst the children of the poor live homeless on the street of the No Fixed Address.

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Should Not Be Surprised

Those who administer from an ignorant point of view,
Should not be surprised...
If their influence comes to bite their own backsides!
Remember...
You supply the tools,
To surround yourself with other fools.

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Emily Dickinson

We should not mind so small a flower

81

We should not mind so small a flower—
Except it quiet bring
Our little garden that we lost
Back to the Lawn again.

So spicy her Carnations nod—
So drunken, reel her Bees—
So silver steal a hundred flutes
From out a hundred trees—

That whoso sees this little flower
By faith may clear behold
The Bobolinks around the throne
And Dandelions gold.

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The Stars Do Not Know That They Are Stars

THE STARS DO NOT KNOW THAT THEY ARE STARS

The stars do not know that they are stars
They do not know how violent they are-
They do not know they inspire human dreams
They do not know that they are more distant than they seem-

The stars do not know that they are stars
They do not know we do not see them as they are-
They do not know that trillions of transformations from now
They will not even be gaseous clouds.

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A Poem Should Not Be Written-When One Is Waiting For A Bus

A POEM SHOULD NOT BE WRITTEN-WHEN ONE IS WAITING FOR A BUS

A poem should not be written
When one is waiting for a bus
And simply trying to pass the time.

It should be written in solitude
After deep reflection
Ripeness as all
The falling fruit-

But this poem
Knows no ‘should’-
Knows only the long desperation
Of the happy holiday day-

Writing the words down quietly-
As if anything and everything I have to say
Is really
The poem I have religiously long waited for.

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Power Rangers Pop Stars

Baby, one more time
It's up to you
The earth you must defend
Stop the bad guys
In their tracks
No more alien attacks

The Power Rangers Pop Stars are here
Made for a moment like this
With high flying kicks
Beyond a shadow of a doubt
Proving their worth
Again and again
Our planet they will defend

Rangers for us all
Rangers thank you for hearing our call
We know you won't let us fall

Go go Power Rangers
Power Rangers Pop Stars
The best rangers of them all....

Go go Power Rangers Pop Stars!

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Why Pretzels Do Not Eat Us

why pretzels do not eat us
why pretzels do not eat us
eye opened up the pretzel bag and much to my surprise
they grabbed me and began to pull me deep inside
eye lurched and jumped to no avail as munching then begun
the pretzels in my bag was eating me the fun had just began
they laughed and giggled and had so much fun
eye am not an ogre by any means
eye let the pretzels have their way
for they were just eating me
so when eye come up missing just find an old worn out pretzel bag
and then look deep inside

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William Butler Yeats

Why Should Not Old Men Be Mad?

WHY should not old men be mad?
Some have known a likely lad
That had a sound fly-fisher's wrist
Turn to a drunken journalist;
A girl that knew all Dante once
Live to bear children to a dunce;
A Helen of social welfare dream,
Climb on a wagonette to scream.
Some think it a matter of course that chance
Should starve good men and bad advance,
That if their neighbours figured plain,
As though upon a lighted screen,
No single story would they find
Of an unbroken happy mind,
A finish worthy of the start.
Young men know nothing of this sort,
Observant old men know it well;
And when they know what old books tell
And that no better can be had,
Know why an old man should be mad.

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What Should Not Be (One Creator)

In our eye's we look only with hate
we don not see to give another a chance
and because of our difference
we only descriminate
in this cold and empty place

We do not look to see the heart within
but to judge by the color of our skin
though our blood is all the same color
and our flesh and bone
is made by only one Creator

And instead of teaching our children
to love, live and learn with one another
we fill their hearts with envy
that keeps us seperate
and binds us away from each other

So we all stand here alone
in the mist of our own race
still choosing not to let a new era begin
and all joining together in this dance
we remain with what should not be
Spiritwind-2012

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The truth should not be told

The truth should not be told
The truth should always be withhold
The truth as it turns out
Should not be said out loud
The truth as they say will set you free
But it will also come with an undetectable fee
The truth is in fact quite dirty and mean
Even for a noble deed
The truth even in good will or unwillingness to commit deception
As I am sure you have heard; the road to hell is paid with good intentions
So many terrible things the truth brings
It’s really a villain playing the hero if you ask me
But, I’m unhappy to say
The truth has a point in some very maniacal way
Screwed if you do, screwed if you don’t, says the verse
I guess nobody wins in these small set of words.

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Emily Dickinson

I should not dare to leave my friend

205

I should not dare to leave my friend,
Because—because if he should die
While I was gone—and I—too late—
Should reach the Heart that wanted me—

If I should disappoint the eyes
That hunted—hunted so—to see—
And could not bear to shut until
They "noticed" me—they noticed me—

If I should stab the patient faith
So sure I'd come—so sure I'd come—
It listening—listening—went to sleep—
Telling my tardy name—

My Heart would wish it broke before—
Since breaking then—since breaking then—
Were useless as next morning's sun—
Where midnight frosts—had lain!

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The Thing That Should Not Be

Messenger of fear in sight
Dark deception kills the light
Hybrid children watch the sea
Pray for father, roaming free
Fearless wretch
Insanity
He watches
Lurking beneath the sea
Great old one
Forbidden site
He searches
Hunter of the shadows is rising
Immortal
In madness you dwell
Crawling chaos, underground
Cult has summoned, twisted sound
Out from ruins once possessed
Fallen city, living death
Fearless wretch
Insanity
He watches
Lurking beneath the sea
Timeless sleep
Has been upset
He awakens
Hunter of the shadows is rising
Immortal
In madness you dwell
Not dead which eternal lie
Stranger eons death may die
Drain you of your sanity
Face the thing that should not be
Fearless wretch
Insanity
He watches
Lurking beneath the sea
Great old one
Forbidden site
He searches
Hunter of the shadows is rising
Immortal
In madness you dwell

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A Fair Go Of Anyone We Should Not Deny

Those who judge people by their colour or their creed or their race
The spirit of the fair go could never embrace
But eventually the reality they have to face
That in the twenty first century for their sort of thinking there isn't a place.

Of what I say here to all races apply
A fair go of anyone we should not deny
Those who are prejudiced towards others in their ways are small
Long live the great beauty in a fair go for all.

As we know prejudice and racism is only based on ignorance and fear
And of such negative stuff I don't wish to read of or hear
Their thinking is out of touch and it would seem fair to say
That it is out of place in the World of today.

One fact in black, brown and white and facts never lie
Is that we are mere mortals and born to die
And whoever you are you deserve a fair go
And may happiness and luck in your life you do know

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On Torture We Should Not Keep Our Silence

In many so called Democratic Countries Human Rights laws are being transgressed
And people due to their difference from others are imprisoned and oppressed
And suffer the worst forms of torture should we in silence stand idly by
For a wrong against any individual is a wrong against you and I.

A loss of Human rights to any individual is a loss of rights to all
The huge plague of locusts destroyed the grain crops though their numbers once were small
And like the locusts those who go along with torture their numbers multiply
But on such a matter for me to keep my silence would be to live a lie.

On torture we should not keep our silence 'tis time we made a stand
I've got a lethal weapon here the pen is in my hand
I may not command much power but to my own self I must be true
For if you do not speak out against torture you become a torturer too.

In many so called Democratic Countries Governments to torture turn a blind eye
And people due to torture have even been known to die
And those who keep their silence on such a matter are saying
torture is okay
Though a loss of rights to one individual is a loss of rights to all or to me 'twould seem that way.

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Should not happen

No, it should never happen
It should not be thought even
As love is meant to create a void
Such a though should be shed

Love means live and not to leave
Gain the confidence and believe
That life is to be trusted and dreamed
Must be strived and not to be assumed

Life and love go together
I will try to make it smooth and smoother
I will never claim it as of no use
Even though it may baffle and confuse

Love can be called a garden
Flowers can boom and sun can shine
People can dream and roam for while
They can become one even if away in miles

Love is not body lust but just belonging
Must have fine flare at the beginning
Let there be no shade or black patches
It may grow stronger and later on catch

It is lovely weapon and meant to carry on
Though in mildest tone to be pursued and gone
Yet some of love aspect needs proper care
Beauty is to be seen and not stared

The name itself fills the air with heaviness
The moment you are in you have feeling of oneness
It gives some sense of fulfillment
It is not desired to have any other comments

It is fine gift from the heaven
This can be seen in birds even
Even though some ugly acts are involved
But loneliness problem in life is definitely solved

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Save Some Of That Grease You Do Not Eat

Did you plan to fill my nights,
With implanted enchantment?
With a pace...
Slowed in haste.

Did you picture me dazed,
Situated and elated...
With you as a mate?
That a kept faith,
Had brought and upon us fated?

Whatever it is,
You think will be delivered...
Don't wait,
For a chit chat debate.

Whatever it is,
You think will be delivered...
Don't wait,
Or become so fascinated.

Whatever it is,
You think will be delivered...
You'd be better off if you fried,
Onions and liver.

Whatever it is,
You think will be delivered...
Save some of that grease you do not eat!

Did you plan to fill my nights,
With implanted enchantment?
With a pace...
Slowed in haste.

Did you picture me dazed,
Situated and elated...
With you as a mate?
That kept faith had brought and fated?

Whatever it is,
You think will be delivered...
Don't wait,
For a chit chat debate.

Whatever it is,
You think will be delivered...
Save some of that grease you do not eat!

Whatever it is,
You think will be delivered...
Save some of that grease you do not eat!

Whatever it is,
You think will be delivered...
Save some of that grease you do not eat!

Whatever it is,
You think will be delivered...
Save some of that grease you do not eat!

Save some of that grease you do not eat!

Save some of that grease you do not eat!

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Patrick White

The Stars Will Not Devise

The stars will not devise a way out of your life
that they haven’t already offered you
and the sprawl of green fountains
that hallows you now, the victorious trees,
will later dropp all their keys
like a nightwatchman too drunk to get in.
You must stand in the ashes if you want to study orchids,
you must fill your body up with clouds
and red-tailed hawks, and autumn leaves
torn from the pages of the history of fire
if you want to follow what the wind is saying
back to its mouth in the sun.
Everything else is the source of everything else
and the rain knows more about circles and arrows
than all the bows and compasses
of the sad magician who’s stripped his purities of flesh.
Stay close to the earth if you want
to look deeply into the eyes of the stars
and see the golden maggot that hangs from its lifeline
like a message in a tear delivered with wings.
Your blood, no matter how you say it,
is a prelude of wild roses beside a murdered brook,
and there are legends of light on your skin
that are ancient instructions
on how to bring it back to life again. Denude yourself
of those feathers and leaves and mirrors
you dress the morning up in
to go and sit on the corner like an open guitar-case
to deprive the music of the night before.
There are women everywhere, half-awake,
who grope the sheets for you like spare change
in an empty bed, and blue doors where you live
waiting for you to fill the tiny eyes of their spy-holes
with ruined moons willing to sacrifice themselves
for a few moments more.
If you give your word to me
you won’t desecrate their graves with shallow questions,
I’ll show you where the harps
of the enlightened peacocks were buried with honours
when they saw through the veils of the eclipse
that opened their eyes to a dawn
they hadn’t expected. Get up off your knees
in that house of chains and crippled ladders you worship in;
there’s nothing holy about the crutches you contrive
in a shipyard of able bones, and your voyages
are already blessed by the sea that pounds in your chest
to add you to her islands. Can’t you feel
the soft adagios of her secret distances
swaying the keyboard of your crossed horizons like waves?
And why do you quote the fool of your own silence
to contradict the wisdom of the night
that everywhere answers you
with the shadows of bells and owls
you can read between the lines of the stars;
isn’t it clear that all that vastness is a rock in a well
she’s singing to you, a fragrance of time
that wants to voice the solitude
of her lachrymose labyrinths to someone
who knows how to listen
in the nocturnal flowers of her native tongue?
Write, yes, write; by all means
show us the beauty of your soul
in its passage across the moon
whether coming or going, array your lonely jewels
on the carpet of the sky before us
like the fruits and tears and eyes
that have congealed from your sorrows,
and those dark drops of amber and tar
that preserve all your flights and fears intact
like supple summers jailed in a locket; let’s
hold them up, too, to the light and wonder
that you could endure such fables of pain;
and not just your bleeding rubies, not just
your emeritus emeralds and the radiant sapphires
that fell from the crown
that graced the domain of your regal demeanour
with a northern constellation,
but the painted fish and electric eels,
and the sharks and the crabs and the jelly fish
that live in the dead cities of your all night corals
like cheap actors in ravenous wardrobes of blood
playing for real; let’s see them as well,
and all the rank gardens that grow in the dirt
beneath the crescents of your untrimmed nails
slumming like landlords in places you wouldn’t live;
let’s see all of these and more lifting the veils
on the ferrous brides of your unimpeachable sincerity.
But when all the vows have been taken and forsaken
and your dead have been lavishly mourned
in brass, granite, marble, and staples,
let’s see if you know how to drink with the shadows
you go out every sunset
with your tongue as thick as a broom
to sweep from the stairs? After the cool, blue, jazz clefs
warming up like fireflies and fiddleheads
to the implications of emptiness improvising
on the black trumpets of the scorched daylilies,
let’s hear from some passing storm now and again
that you’ve learned how to die enough
that the pulse of a profounder heartbeat
that marks time with the breathing of nightfall
is all that keeps you alive.

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One who does not work should not eat.

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The Crime of Humanity

The vegatarian says we should not eat animals,
Because we apparently cause them pain,
Does not the lettuce feel pain when we pick it,
Do not the trees fell pain when the fruit is harvested,

When we say we kill the bull in a pain free way,
The vegitarian says- How do you know its pain free?

Tell me vegitarian,
Should we not eat at all,
Have we the right to consume anything?

Tree killer,
Blood spiller,
I am a murderer.

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Sonnet: But Man is Wretched

The famished crow picks up the grains of rice,
Found in the drain-water near the kitchen;
Sometimes, it gets ripe fruits to eat, so nice,
Yet, takes much cleaner water than most men.

The parrots green need fruits and nuts to eat;
At times, they eat whatever seeds, they get;
They don't complain despite the summer’s heat;
They never curse their Maker, fume or fret.

Disgruntled Man is never contented;
He tries to eat those things he should not eat;
His life is not what God has intended;
He eats all things-mud, dirt, insects and peat.

Thus Birds behave so sweetly 'midst their strife;
But Man is never satisfied all life.

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