Quotes about hobo, page 6
We Should Be More Like Davies
We ought to be more like the great poet William Henry Davies take time to stand and stare
Instead we worry about life and hurry here and there
We stress about our jobs and about our bills to pay
And yet we're getting older and our time clock ticks away.
To keep up with the aspirational Jones the family next door
We must work a bit harder and of money earn more
For they have bought a new car and a new car we too must buy
They smirk at us in our old car as we go driving by.
We should be more like Davies who penned poems of sheep and cows
Who stared for long as they chewed their cud from under leafy boughs
If the Jones have a new car to that they won't lose sleep
Enough of young grass to eat and nice weather satisfies a cow or sheep.
He lost a leg jumping from a train in his hobo days but he got on with his life
And he went back home and settled down and he found himself a wife
And he did not compete with the Jones next door he penned great poems instead
And Davies the Poet is remembered still though he is long with the dead.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Warm Vancouver Rains
Oh carry me to California
It's my farewell and time to move along
I fell in love with Old Vancouver
Someday she'll reach for me and I'll be gone
When the liquors good down goes the whiskey
The only way I know to mend this cowboy's pride
So freight train blow your lonesome whistle
And sing for me that Hobo Bills Last Ride
Chorus:
And Lord Oh how I miss the girl from London
And how I miss those kisses I love best
The taste of wine that night and her affection
Haunt me taunt me in these warm Vancouver rains
Narrate:
You know it's hard sometimes for a man to face the truth
about how he manhandled yesterday where he's at right now
and where he's headed tomorrow
[...] Read more
poem by Paul Henry Dallaire
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My Degree
someone asked me what my degree was in...
well, i've been a factory worker,
a mill worker, a carpenter, a trash collector...
milked cows and rode horses,
grown gardens and cut wood.
i've been a kick boxer, a fugitive,
a poet, and a mad lover.
a two bit picker, a prisoner,
an addict and a thief.
a street preacher, a hobo,
a father and a husband.
a monk and a heretic....
need i say more.
i've loaded trucks and worked sawmills,
been a salesman and a business manager.
i've climbed mountains and lived in caves,
bathed naked in waterfalls.
i've been a winner, and a loser,
i've been a friend to the end.
i've been a fighter and a believer,
[...] Read more
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Prince of the Road.
In some countries he is called a hobo with trousers baggy.
In my country he is a swaggie.
His hair is unkempt, trouser belt a tie.
His hat would make the self respecting person cry.
His ragged beard plunging the depth of his chest,
Under it a worn and stained suits vest.
He wakes in the morn to the Kookaburra laugh,
He makes Billy tea and watches paddle steam craft.
They say he came from outback town to the west,
Some say he was an English duke complete with crest.
If so, he had thrown away a life ease and pleasure,
He had now only one great treasure.
As the Maggie sang he takes a small bundle from his swag,
It is carefully wrapped in oilskin and a velvet rag.
Once unwrapped it is now plain to be seen,
Small book and crests of two houses, a duke and queen.
[...] Read more
poem by R.K. Hart
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1 Pedophile Ring For Animals: Heifer International
What are livestock men
who in the guise of charity
run an international pedophile
ring for the slavery and
slaughter of baby animals?
***************************************** *
Heifer International is a Little Rock Arkansas based livestock
consortium
which in the guise of charity and ending hunger promotes the agony
of animal slavery and slaughter around the world as it simultaneously
causes animal product related disease, and animal agriculture related
deforestation and global heating. Animal agriculture does not end
hunger.
It causes hunger by furthering a food system which creates a maximum
1000 lbs an acre of murdered animal flesh (as compared to 450,000
pounds an acre for centenarian fruit and nut trees) .
[...] Read more
poem by O. Anna Niemus
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The Spillway
I drove down to the lake today
Where the water flowed in through the old spillway
Lazy and bored I figured I'd just sit
Drink a beer or two and daydream a bit
I parked right next to a gnarled oak tree
In solitude where I wanted to be
Eighty eight point five played my favorite songs
I couldn't help myself so I sang along
Till I had a fancy to explore
I opened up the rusty blue Dodge Ram door
All bundled tight in my wool poncho
I stepped out the truck into ten below
Where the Permian red mud squished beneath my boots
Onto the flat full of geese and coots
The sky was depressing, dark and grey
Like you'd expect it to be on a funeral day
[...] Read more
poem by Sara Fielder
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Flip-Flop! Clip-Clap! Boo-Boo Cried SOLO BOBBY – Trapped in a BOOBY-TRAP!
In lonely woods, I met Cyclops with solo eye and single mouth with fire
Goofing around in a city by varying names – hobo, hog are names few;
Anchorite, Hieronymite, troglodyte, , stylite, road hog are names new -
Solo Cyclops is a 16th century’s leviathan & 21st century’s plastic gyre.
Flip-flop! Clip-clap! Boo-boo cried solo Bobby – trapped in the Booby-trap!
Clip-clop went the horse's hop – lonely Johny weeps in the lonely shop!
Aloneness greets me seventy times seven and 24/7 with a mess!
Aloneness is a burning hole inside me with a hallow emptiness....
Aloneness is tearing me apart and pulling my only heart apart!
Aloneness is perfect but hopelessness and darkness in your heart.
Flip-flop! Clip-clap! Boo-boo cried solo Bobby – trapped in the Booby-trap!
Clip-clop went the horse's hop – lonely Johny weeps in the lonely shop!
Aloneness is a feeling of wontedness yet remains unwonted,
Aloofness isn't a simple word anymore - a nerve rattling terror;
It has undergone a surgery, turned out to be chameleons’ avatar!
So it puts every Jack, Tom and Jerry on the butcher’s altar.
Flip-flop! Clip-clap! Boo-boo cried solo Bobby – trapped in the Booby-trap!
Clip-clop went the horse's hop – lonely Johny weeps in the lonely shop!
[...] Read more
poem by Harindhar Reddy
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Elegy for a Poet
I hark back to the days when I
Began, in pen and ink,
To scrawl some petty poems,
How to feel, and how to think,
And people seemed to like the way
My simple little rhymes
Would trace a basic pattern
Through the heartache of their times.
So I continued writing; then
I typed my manuscripts,
I hit the keys so hard that
All my paper fell to bits,
But still I persevered, until
Computers stole the scene,
And little plastic keyboards
Put the words up on a screen.
But all along I used the name
Of Earle E. Everett,
[...] Read more
poem by David Lewis Paget
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9904
9904
9904
CharlaXFabels
Ninenintyfour
Autofixation
A Dialog Fabel
Mrs. Smithster: BOSS let me help you clean up your computor today the new auto program disc is arrived in my snail mail box.
BOSS: OK just don't lose any of my contacts on the list the accounts are way too important.
JUNE: to her self: an aside: GET HIM who does he THINK he is giving me that guff so early in the mourning.
BOSS: Poor June is my secretary and eye love her like my sister but she is so dense the bullits bounce off her like she is Superman, or wait no Supergirl mabe.
Narrator Ed.Note: This is the twilight zoned for the next five minutiae you can not understand anything but this fable you have been transported to the twilight zone. This Lady Bosses Secretary one Mrs. June Smithster has been the receiver of a program sent to her inside her snail mail marked as a FIXIT program disc the entire story is now centered around what comes next let's watch what happens…
Charlax the Narrator: June reached into the envelope slowly and opened the disc cover reluctantly she was wondering now just where it had come from it was compelling her to use it she could feel its message somewhere near her left toe and the eye her left eye was twitching like a nervous wrecked her whole face was letting go she had to she had to over and over like a ROBOT compulsion she HAD to place the disc in the BOSSES computor NOW.
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Hice
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Australiana
Aborigines and kangaroos
boomerangs and didjeridoos.
Leafy gum tree branch and koala bear
black stump in the middle of nowhere.
Jolly swagman camped by a billabong
in 'Waltzing Matilda' a favorite song.
The wild brumbies roaming free in the outback
a scruffy hobo living alone in a country shack.
Aboriginal myths called their dreamtime
the native Australians regard as sublime.
Ring-tailed possum and wombat
Aussie bloke wearing accubra hat.
Alice Springs and Ayers Rock
outback stations and livestock.
Ned Kelly bushranger and his law brushes
the Eureka stockade during the gold rushes.
Laughing kookaburra and old man emu
platypus swimming in underwater view.
Banjo Patterson’s poem ‘The Man from Snowy River’
who went riding down mountain side without a quiver.
[...] Read more
poem by George Krokos
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