Quotes about unwashed, page 3
Paranoid Android (Sorrow Poem)
Depressed and bored but not paranoid at all
Marvin had all the solutions for the Universe
But he was sad, with a billion years of boredom
Waiting tables nightly at the End of the Universe
While awaiting the arrival of his Heart of Gold.
We meet our paranoid Marvins every day
Friendless beings fearing mortal threats
From us, the great unwashed human herd
Suspecting everyone, enemies everywhere
Unconscious of their need for a real hug today.
poem by Ian Beckett
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A Breakfast That We Cannot Eat Together
this is the breakfast that we cannot eat together a fish fried in an oil
with so much heat, like ' who cares? ' a rice not well cooked which says ' it is the maid again! ' a coffee which has gone cold which says ' you come late again! ' a egg which is not sunny side up a ham that does not roll a dirty table with an unwashed table cloth which says 'change it yourself! '
how can i eat all these?
i am late for the office and i have to go.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Guilt
i know how it feels,
for i also know how to junk someone like a
hot potato,
i know how it feels to reject a certain value
and i know how to come back at it
without its knowing,
i begin to be interested at it
familiarize myself with its pungency
and memorize its color
i kiss its traces and hug
the old unwashed shirt hanging
inside the drawer
i also know how to leave
close the door and
tell myself, i will not come back to this place anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bouquet
Come in the evening,
on the lake.
Together we will watch
the sunset.
Some unsung lines have been left
on our lips.
Some fractured smiles,
and some unwashed tears,
on the misty cheeks.
Sadness was stuck
in our reddened eyes.
Layer by layer
I want to wipe it.
A song, a reed, I will arrange
in a bouquet
in the name of redundant past
holding the unblemished time.
[...] Read more
poem by Satish Verma
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Seeking To Speed Up A Way
When women begin to commit acts,
Of armed robbery...
Breast feeding and baking cookies,
Or standing over a sink...
Filled with unwashed dishes,
Is something not likely to be on their minds.
Unless...
They are seeking to speed up a way that finds,
Payment quickly for new appliances that are quickly delivered.
Enabling them to do those chores...
To keep up with the neighbors living next door!
Who knows what the time of the month does to some folks?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Weary Old Man
weary, the old man from his garden
goes inside the house
with unwashed feet all muddy
rests on that bamboo bed,
he finds no meaning
why he must still live for another day
weary, he closes his eyes
forgetting supper
prepared by his granddaughter
who mother left her
under his care
weary the old man is
now asleep
as the moon which used to be full
fades completely
in a very dark sky
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sex Under A Vacant House
Torrents rain blindly flying air
crying in torrents hair matted
skull to face blanket used laid.
Light dim cracked features of
la ired trusses has slowed wind.
Discarded old food rotting in
boxes packed dirt ridge floor.
Bodies musky funk decimated
ode rs of prior use undistilled.
Back against wall wondering
not knowing many unwashed
hopelessness impassioned
acts desperation's released
shells spent bodies discarded
hulls adrft under these floors.
poem by Cigar Aficionado
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Now That I Write With Windows Closed
and thick curtains
hang
morning
and here i am
in
a dark room
still writing
lines that do not tease
and inspire
unwashed face
and sounds of brooms
sweeping outside
and motors shouting
and people's feet
on a sunday
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Why The Daisies Are Not All White
Uncle Rob says:
Once the daisies all were white,
Till a baby fellow
Ate his supper down one night,
And stained his face all yellow.
Smeared with butter, off to bed
Crept the sleepy flower.
'Fie!' the good nurse dew-drop said,
Come now to my bower.
'Let me wash you clean, I pray,
Like the pink and rosy.'
But the daisy pulled away
Like a stubborn posy.
All unwashed he went to sleep,
Naughty little fellow.
Ever since he's had to keep
[...] Read more
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Symptoms Of A Loser
blurring visions
that see tired tigers
retreating inside a cave
away from humanity,
cracking bones
shouting for repair,
falling hair
lots of locks on the
pillow that early morning
when there is no feeling
of waking up,
a mouth that is shut
munching words
and swallowing pride,
a heart that no longer
weeps,
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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