When I decided I wanted to be an actor, I said I wanted to work with quality actors and directors.
quote by Puff Daddy
Added by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Work To Make It Work
(r palmer)
Push it along
Work work work to make it work
Push it along
Work work work to make it work
Push it along
Work work work if you want to improve it
Push it along
It's all there for you to feel it
Help your self to one that you can't deal with
Ain't no way that you could steal it
You misunderstand if you get greedy
Ah push
Work work work to make it work push it along
Work work work to make it work
Push it along
Work work work to make it work
Push it along
Work work work if you want to improve
Don't confine your dreams to bed
You'll get scared if you get lazy
If you can't take enough to satisfy yourself
Then you'll go crazy
Wont do no good thinking
You got to do it
So it don't come easy the first time
Practice makes perfect, you know that i'll try hard
Use it or lose it
You got to put your heart and soul into it
Yeaheheh
Push it along
Work work work to make it work
Push it along
Work work work if you want to move it
Push it along
Work to make it work
Push it along
Work work work if you want to improve
It's all there for you to feel it
Help your self to one that you can't deal with
Ain't no way that you could steal it
You misunderstand if you get greedy forget wishful thinking
You can do it
You just need a push to make a start
If you don't succeed the first time
Try and try again
Use it or lose it
You got to put your back into it
Work work work to make it work
Push it along
[...] Read more
song performed by Robert Palmer
Added by Lucian Velea
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Payment
A tortuous path of neurons arced a call: ‘Awake! ’
I did; in rising, peering, stretching, bearing,
Pained anticipation saw it all:
Foretold, another filthy day.
I drew the drape: diluvian lay the ground
Beneath a lazy leaden cloud – apissing out
The puddles; irksome on the roof –
The drumming drops of bitter glee
Were hounding out a hapless me –
Reinforcing doubt that I am sound.
I left the house
to go to work
to earn a crust
without a perk
then on to bust
another straining vessel.
Trudging on thro’ mud and clay, I pondered:
‘Why a drought of happy times?
Auspicious climes were
Old and fusty books
Atop a dusty shelf
Inside a morgue-of-a-room,
Somewhere in a long-forgotten library
Down a lane without a way.’
I thought again: ‘And still I pay.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
[...] Read more
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Work To Make It Work 99
Push it along
Work work work to make it work
Push it along
Work work work to make it work
Push it along
Work work work if you want to improve it
Push it along
Its all there for you to feel it
Help your self to one that you cant deal with
Aint no way that you could steal it
You misunderstand if you get greedy
Ah push
Work work work to make it work push it along
Work work work to make it work
Push it along
Work work work to make it work
Push it along
Work work work if you want to improve
Dont confine your dreams to bed
Youll get scared if you get lazy
If you cant take enough to satisfy yourself
Then youll go crazy
Wont do no good thinking
You got to do it
So it dont come easy the first time
Practice makes perfect, you know that Ill try hard
Use it or lose it
You got to put your heart and soul into it
Yeaheheh
Push it along
Work work work to make it work
Push it along
Work work work if you want to move it
Push it along
Work to make it work
Push it along
Work work work if you want to improve
Its all there for you to feel it
Help your self to one that you cant deal with
Aint no way that you could steal it
You misunderstand if you get greedy forget wishful thinking
You can do it
You just need a push to make a start
If you dont succeed the first time
Try and try again
Use it or lose it
You got to put your back into it
Work work work to make it work
Push it along
Work work work if you want to move it
[...] Read more
song performed by Robert Palmer
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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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society
Epigraph
Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.
I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.
You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The quality of mercy (conditions apply)
The quality of mercy,
Portia declared,
the quality of mercy is
suspended during the present conflict
the quality of mercy is
not the business of a Minister of Justice
the quality of mercy is
not a matter of individual conscience
the quality of mercy is
too subtle for public discussion
or law
the quality of mercy is
only for Shakespeare and stuff
the quality of mercy is
less stimulating than revenge
the quality of mercy is
no business of yours
the quality of mercy is
no concern of religious authorities
who should stay silent
the quality of mercy is
an outdated concept
the quality of mercy is
nothing to do with forgiveness
or circumstantial evidence
or the remission of sins
the quality of mercy is
no longer a matter of pride
the quality of mercy is
no longer a mark of humanity
the quality of mercy
would be OK if Obama said so
the quality of mercy
is one hell of a hot potato
cooked in oil
[...] Read more
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Work, Sleep, Work, Sleep, Work
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work:
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work, sleep, work, sleep,
Work.
Oh free me please with gentle ease
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work!
This odium, pounding tedium
Of my work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
Just whisk me off to lands afar
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
That grinding train of rhythmic pain
Called ‘Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.’
Poor neural circuits fizzle and pop
In work, sleep, work, sleep, work,
In trying to make some sense of all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
But Hark! I see a golden gleam -
A saving spirit of hope:
‘You’re fired! ’ He screams. What news to bear,
This wondrous hangman’s rope!
So now I’m free, released from all this
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
Eternal peace and rest for me, no
Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Added by Poetry Lover
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Through the eyes of a Field Coronet (Epic)
Introduction
In the kaki coloured tent in Umbilo he writes
his life’s story while women, children and babies are dying,
slowly but surely are obliterated, he see how his nation is suffering
while the events are notched into his mind.
Lying even heavier on him is the treason
of some other Afrikaners who for own gain
have delivered him, to imprisonment in this place of hatred
and thoughts go through him to write a book.
Prologue
The Afrikaner nation sprouted
from Dutchmen,
who fought decades without defeat
against the super power Spain
mixed with French Huguenots
who left their homes and belongings,
with the revocation of the Edict of Nantes.
Associate this then with the fact
that these people fought formidable
for seven generations
against every onslaught that they got
from savages en wild animals
becoming marksmen, riding
and taming wild horses
with one bullet per day
to hunt a wild antelope,
who migrated right across the country
over hills in mass protest
and then you have
the most formidable adversary
and then let them fight
in a natural wilderness
where the hunter,
the sniper and horseman excels
and any enemy is at a lost.
Let them then also be patriotic
into their souls,
believe in and read
out of the word of God
[...] Read more
poem by Gert Strydom
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Got To Go To Work
gotta go to work
work work work wok work work work work work work work
gotta go to work
work work work work work work work work work work work
12697566846748857455848
work work work work work
gotta go to work
work work work work wok work
136498368574934
gotta go to work
repeatedly, until u want to stop
By: Ashley jones
poem by Ashley Jones
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We Can Work It Out
Now that I know your name and U know mine
Ain't it just about time that we got 2gether?
We should make such beautiful music 4ever
Oh, 2gether 4ever
Put your trust in me, I'll never let U down
Cuz I know I can count on U 2 help me make it
Ain't no doubt about it
We can work it out, work it out
I know we can work it out
Work it out, work it out
Ooh wee!
CHORUS:
Hope we work it out, I hope we work it out
(Everybody sing) Hope we work it out, I hope we work it out
Hope we work it out, I hope we work it out
(Everybody sing) Hope we work it out, I hope we work it out
Makin' music naturally, me and W.B. (CHORUS)
Music 4 the young and old, music bound 2 be gold
Work it out
Hope we work it out, I hope we work it out {x2}
Hope we work it out, I hope we work it out (Can we work it out?)
Hope we work it out, I hope we work it out (I want 2 work it out)
Hope we work it out, I hope we work it out
(Everybody sing) Hope we work it out, I hope we work it out
Hope we work it out, I hope we work it out
(Everybody sing) Hope we work it out, I hope we work it out
Hope we work it out, I hope we work it out
(Everybody sing) Hope we work it out, I hope we work it out
Makin' music naturally, me and W.B
song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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Four Letter 'Work' Song
Work me up, work me out, work me flip side down.
Work me here, work me there, work me with renown.
Work me hot, work me greedy,
work me through and through.
Work me to the very marrow,
work me just like I'd work you.
Work me proud, work me late,
work me do not hesitate.
Won't you let me work for you?
Work me til I'm black and blue.
Work me steady, work me needy, work me to a lather.
Work me til my backbone breaks, and the buzzards gather.
Work me in, work me under, work me til I bleed,
Work me over red hot coals, work me like a boss in need.
Work me nasty, work me silly, work me through the clover.
Up down, 'n' in between, into a slipknot sweet Jehovah.
Work me, work me, go ahead.
Work me, work me, til I'm dead.
Buddy Bee Anthony
poem by Buddy Bee Anthony
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The Apology
ADDRESSED TO THE CRITICAL REVIEWERS.
Tristitiam et Metus.--HORACE.
Laughs not the heart when giants, big with pride,
Assume the pompous port, the martial stride;
O'er arm Herculean heave the enormous shield,
Vast as a weaver's beam the javelin wield;
With the loud voice of thundering Jove defy,
And dare to single combat--what?--A fly!
And laugh we less when giant names, which shine
Establish'd, as it were, by right divine;
Critics, whom every captive art adores,
To whom glad Science pours forth all her stores;
Who high in letter'd reputation sit,
And hold, Astraea-like, the scales of wit,
With partial rage rush forth--oh! shame to tell!--
To crush a bard just bursting from the shell?
Great are his perils in this stormy time
Who rashly ventures on a sea of rhyme:
Around vast surges roll, winds envious blow,
And jealous rocks and quicksands lurk below:
Greatly his foes he dreads, but more his friends;
He hurts me most who lavishly commends.
Look through the world--in every other trade
The same employment's cause of kindness made,
At least appearance of good will creates,
And every fool puffs off the fool he hates:
Cobblers with cobblers smoke away the night,
And in the common cause e'en players unite;
Authors alone, with more than savage rage,
Unnatural war with brother authors wage.
The pride of Nature would as soon admit
Competitors in empire as in wit;
Onward they rush, at Fame's imperious call,
And, less than greatest, would not be at all.
Smit with the love of honour,--or the pence,--
O'errun with wit, and destitute of sense,
Should any novice in the rhyming trade
With lawless pen the realms of verse invade,
Forth from the court, where sceptred sages sit,
Abused with praise, and flatter'd into wit,
Where in lethargic majesty they reign,
And what they won by dulness, still maintain,
Legions of factious authors throng at once,
Fool beckons fool, and dunce awakens dunce.
To 'Hamilton's the ready lies repair--
Ne'er was lie made which was not welcome there--
Thence, on maturer judgment's anvil wrought,
The polish'd falsehood's into public brought.
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Churchill
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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
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Quality Street
Ive seen, so many lovers cry
Lost love, makes me wonder why
Ive found a love, a once in a lifetime love
Angel on high, from heaven so high above
So I thank God for sending me you
I have heard of playing around with numbers
But one is all I need
She cant be beat, she makes me complete
On quality street
I have heard of playing around with numbers
But one is all I need
She cant be beat, she makes me complete
On quality street
I have lived alone, until you came along
And you gave me love
And my dream came true
And God gave me you
I see, the end of the rainbow now
True love, has blessed me somehow
Blessing of love, a once in a lifetime love
Angel on high, from heaven so high above
So I thank God for sending me you
I have heard of playing around with numbers
But one is all I need
She cant be beat, she makes me complete
On quality street
Quality street
On quality street
Quality, quality, quality, quality street
Quality street
On quality street.
song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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My Fate Decided
D day
The icy spray of the sea
The soft murmur of men
The retailing of packs
The wait of mine secured on my back
My fate decided
The blow of a whistle
The thump of the 88`s letting lose
The rattle of bullets hitting the boat
The caused cry
The scream of men
The roar of metal ripping apart
My fate decided
The boat stoping
The men confused
The red water linking in
The ramp is opening
My fate decided
The whistles blown
The line a broken
Pushing men not wanting to leave
The water red and cold
The pounding of bullets
The scream of men all around
My fate decided
Blood bleached sand thick and red
My rifle a swung on my back
The clocking of wet rifles
The explosion of a boat
The cry of men, metal and guns
My fate decided
The sicken sight
The feeling worse
The pounding of feet
The rocks
Can we make it?
My fate decided
The rifle unsung
The rocks and shelter still far away
Can we make it?
Falling men hitting hard to the dirt
Is this where we should all now lay?
My fate decided
[...] Read more
poem by Mike Cochrane
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The Song of the Shirt
The Song of the Shirt
With fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat, in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread--
Stitch! stitch! stitch!
In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
And still with a voice of dolorous pitch
She sang the "Song of the Shirt."
"Work! work! work!
While the cock is crowing aloof!
And work — work — work,
Till the stars shine through the roof!
It's Oh! to be a slave
Along with the barbarous Turk,
Where woman has never a soul to save,
If this is Christian work!
"Work — work — work
Till the brain begins to swim;
Work — work — work
Till the eyes are heavy and dim!
Seam, and gusset, and band,
Band, and gusset, and seam,
Till over the buttons I fall asleep,
And sew them on in a dream!
"Oh, Men, with Sisters dear!
Oh, Men, with Mothers and Wives!
It is not linen you're wearing out,
But human creatures' lives!
Stitch — stitch — stitch,
In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
Sewing at once with a double thread,
A Shroud as well as a Shirt.
But why do I talk of Death?
That Phantom of grisly bone,
I hardly fear its terrible shape,
It seems so like my own —
It seems so like my own,
Because of the fasts I keep;
Oh, God! that bread should be so dear,
And flesh and blood so cheap!
"Work — work — work!
My Labour never flags;
And what are its wages? A bed of straw,
[...] Read more
poem by Thomas Hood
Added by Poetry Lover
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Work! Work! And Reap!
Work! Work! Work! And Reap!
Work! Work! Work! And Sleep!
Everyday most of we work
Some of us love to work
Some of us just want to rock
Some of us want to lie on a beach or take a walk
If we had our way, we could spend all day and talk
But work we all must
Or our lifestyles will go bust!
We may then have to readjust
To unacceptable standards of living in disgust
Work! Work! Work! And Reap!
Work! Work! Work! And Sleep!
We all have different professions
Some of us have silent confessions
We fancy someone at work with an obsession
Work is then fun with a passion until confusion
Work! Work! Work! And Reap!
Work! Work! Work! And Sleep!
There are jobs that are monotonous
The atmosphere is negatively outrageous
Nothing in the air signifies hilarious
Every single person is always very serious
Sometimes played at work
Is the kind of politics
That makes one quite sick
This is where the strong kick
Kick hardest the backside of the weak
But work we all must
Or our lifestyles will go bust!
As we find ourselves lost
And then try hard to readjust
So do we swallow?
Or is fighting back shallow
Will it leave in your pocket a dent that is hollow?
Or produce a scene labeled horror
Enough to leave you in tears of sorrow
I don't have all the answers
I know work is a living cancer
People at work ought to be a little nicer
[...] Read more
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Car Wash
Y'all small tuna fish, I'm one big catch
(This is a Shark Tale exclusive)
Y'all small tuna fish, I'm one big catch
(Here we go again) (2004)
Y'all small tuna fish, I'm one big catch
(Say what, say what) (phenomenal hit)
Y'all small tuna fish, I'm one big catch
(Yeah)
Ooh, do do do do do do do
Car wash, car wash
Ooh, do do do do do do do
Car wash, car wash
(Yeah, let's drop it on 'em like this)
Ooh, do do do do do do, na na na ah, ooh
Ooh, do do do do do do, na na na ah, ooh
You might not ever get rich, ha
Let me tell you it's better than digging a ditch
There ain't no telling who you might meet
A movie star or maybe a common thief
Working at the car wash (oh oh, yeah yeah)
At the car wash, yeah (ooh, yeah yeah)
At the car wash (sing it with me now)
Working at the car wash, yeah
(Oh, oh)
Come summer the work gets kind of hard
This ain't no place to be if you're planning on being a star
Let me tell you it's always cool
And the boss don't mind sometimes if you're acting like a fool
Working at the car wash (oh oh, yeah yeah)
At the car wash, yeah (ooh ooh ooh)
At the car wash (ow said, now come and work it with me now, yeah)
Working at the car wash, yeah
Said, said, said, sing
(Work and work)
Well those cars never stop coming
(Work and work)
Keep those rags and machines humming
(Work and work)
My fingers to the bone
(Work and work)
Keep on and can't wait till it's time to go home
(Ooh ooh ooh)
Hey, get your car washed today
(Ooh ooh ooh)
Fill up and you don't have to pay
(Ooh ooh ooh)
Hey, get your car washed today
Give it up, right away
Missy Elliott:
Work at the, car wash
[...] Read more
song performed by Christina Aguilera
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Have Decided
I have decided,
Im gonna live like a believer,
Turn my back on the deceiver,
Im gonna live what I believe.
I have decided,
Being good is just a fable,
I just cant cause Im not able.
Im gonna leave it to the lord.
Theres a wealth of things that I profess,
I said that I believed,
But deep inside I never changed;
I guess Id been deceived.
cause a voice inside kept telling me,
That Id change by and by,
But the spirit made it clear to me,
That kind of lifes a lie.
I have decided,
Im gonna live like a believer,
Turn my back on the deciver,
Im gonna live what I believe.
I have decided,
Being good is just a fable,
I just cant cause Im not able.
Im gonna leave it to the lord.
So forget the game of being good,
And your self-righteous pain.
cause the only good inside your heart
Is the good that jesus brings.
And when the world begins to see you change,
Dont expect them to applaud.
Just keep your eyes on him and tell yourself,
Ive become the work of god.
I have decided,
Im gonna live like a believer,
Turn my back on the deceiver,
Im gonna live what I believe.
I have decided,
Being good is just a fable,
I just cant cause Im not able.
Im gonna leave it to the lord.
I have decided,
Im gonna live like a believer,
Turn my back on the deceiver,
Im gonna live what I believe.
I have decided,
Being good is just a fable,
I just cant cause Im not able.
Im gonna leave it to the lord.
I have decided,
Im gonna live like a believer,
[...] Read more
song performed by Amy Grant
Added by Lucian Velea
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No One That Is Living Has A Quality Owed
No one that is living,
Has a quality owed.
No one that is giving,
Has a quality owed.
No one who is wishing,
Has a quality owed...
With nothing less,
Than solid gold.
With expectations,
Another holds...
Delivered and quick to give.
No one is living,
To demand and get.
No one is living,
Just to benefit.
No one is living...
Just to sit!
And to get.
No one that is living,
Has a quality owed.
No one that is giving,
Has a quality owed.
No one who is wishing,
Has a quality owed...
With nothing less,
Than solid gold.
With expectations,
Another holds...
Delivered and quick to give.
No one is living,
To demand and to get.
No one is living,
Just to benefit.
No one is living,
Just to sit and sit.
No matter what it is...
To receive without a risk.
And if they don't,
They throw a fit.
No one is living,
To demand and to get.
No one is living,
Just to benefit.
No one is living,
Just to sit and sit.
No matter what it is...
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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