Quotes about alleys, page 2
Day Is Done
nuclear fission, sins of omission,
hide your eyes, buy the lies!
hearts gone numb, minds struck dumb,
the flesh dies, stink and flies.
roll down the window, just past tomorrow,
trading souls, fighting for control.
politicians kiss and tell, on the road to hell,
the fire gone cold, nothing left to hold.
broken down, running on empty.
packs of wolves roam the cities.
children's bodies down in the alleys,
nowhere to run, day is done!
nowhere to run, day is done!
the curse of invasion, profitable occasions.
fly the flag, drums and bodybags.
different shades and colors, forgotten brothers,
it's easier to kill, than it is to feel!
the cries and the voices, ghosts of our choices,
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Andy And Opie
shots ring out in the middle
of the night...
tires squeal, a body falls.
the shades are drawn, better
turn out the lights...
9-1-1, nobody calls
old woman lying
in a pool of blood,
her check is gone, check long gone...
crackin, crankin,
swept away by the flood
you're all alone, all alone...
there are bars on the windows
there are locks on the doors
young kids dying in the alleys
dont know what they're dying for
no one has the time to care
and no one is keeping score
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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Written Out [1]
Sing the song of the reckless, who care not what they do;
Sing the song of a sinner and the song of a writer, too—
Down in a pub in the alleys, in a dark and dirty hole,
With every soul a drunkard and the boss with never a soul.
Uncollared, unkempt, unshaven, sat the writer whose fame was fair,
And the girls of the streets were round him, and the bullies and bludgers there;
He was one of themselves and they told him the things that they had to tell—
He was studying human nature with his brothers and sisters in hell.
He was neither poor nor lonely, for a place in the world he’d won,
And up in the heights of the city he’d a thousand friends or none;
But he knew that his chums could wait awhile, that he’d reckon with foes at last,
For he lived far into a future that he knew because of the past.
They remembered the man he had been, they remembered the songs he wrote,
And some of them came to pity and some of them came to gloat:
Some of them shouted exulting—some whispered with bated breath
That down in a den in the alleys he was drinking himself to death.
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poem by Henry Lawson
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Leonora
LEONORA, Leonora,
How the word rolls--Leonora--
Lion-like, in full-mouthed sound,
Marching o'er the metric ground
With a tawny tread sublime--
So your name moves, Leonora,
Down my desert rhyme.
So you pace, young Leonora,
Through the alleys of the wood,
Head erect, majestic, tall,
The fit daughter of the Hall:
Yet with hazel eyes declined,
And a voice like summer wind,
And a meek mouth, sweet and good,
Dimpling ever, Leonora,
In fair womanhood.
How those smiles dance, Leonora,
As you meet the pleasant breeze
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poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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Downtown Venus (A Prostitute's Tale)
I walk the alleys an ostracized downtown Venus
At the junction of heaven and hell at the omnipresent penis
I reminisce my initiation a teenager barely legal
My kind has lasted even before times of medieval even regal
My godfather shelters me the Vodka-soaked pimp
To cater the many who wander in for an awakening from the limp
My stories are many that come in all hues and skins
Even the royalty embrace me not just the pauper also the prince
Sometimes it's a tale of punch drunk love
Sometimes it's the story of a munched junk shove
Some come for a break from their excruciating boredom
Some come armed with a stash and an omnipresent condom
Night turns to day……take it away PM Dawn
As I get my beauty sleep from the constant mucus moan
Morning comes as the early birds stand in line
For me to rock their worlds an experience diabolically sublime
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poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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Tale Of An Alley Cat
There are effectuating things in the world
That makes you want to reside forever
Inside a conch shell's emollient whisper
Like the collision of acquiesced stares,
Or a bathe in her cold residing sweat
Or in a fountain of warm promises,
Or the memory of your fingers tinkering
With the resonance of wind chimes
As it desired to be entangled with a clandestine
Console bigger than the big screen
Until, the world topples into latticing alleys
And in every atrium of the heart
These lovely things encumbers the blood
And mold into loathsome reminiscences
And terrorizing acquaintances
For an astray alley cat.
Now the moon hung by a taut noose
And the stars shiver with decadence
I take its toll, pummeled by emblematic senescence
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poem by Norman Santos
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Ode to Memory
I.
THOU who stealest fire,
From the fountains of the past,
To glorify the present, oh, haste,
Visit my low desire!
Strengthen me, enlighten me!
I faint in this obscurity,
Thou dewy dawn of memory.
II.
Come not as thou camest of late,
Flinging the gloom of yesternight
On the white day, but robed in soften’d light
Of orient state.
Whilome thou camest with the morning mist,
Even as a maid, whose stately brow
The dew-impearled winds of dawn have kiss’d,
When she, as thou,
Stays on her floating locks the lovely freight
Of overflowing blooms, and earliest shoots
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poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Ode To The Spirit Of The Earth In Autumn
Fair Mother Earth lay on her back last night,
To gaze her fill on Autumn's sunset skies,
When at a waving of the fallen light
Sprang realms of rosy fruitage o'er her eyes.
A lustrous heavenly orchard hung the West,
Wherein the blood of Eden bloomed again:
Red were the myriad cherub-mouths that pressed,
Among the clusters, rich with song, full fain,
But dumb, because that overmastering spell
Of rapture held them dumb: then, here and there,
A golden harp lost strings; a crimson shell
Burnt grey; and sheaves of lustre fell to air.
The illimitable eagerness of hue
Bronzed, and the beamy winged bloom that flew
'Mid those bunched fruits and thronging figures failed.
A green-edged lake of saffron touched the blue,
With isles of fireless purple lying through:
And Fancy on that lake to seek lost treasures sailed.
Not long the silence followed:
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poem by George Meredith
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The Land Of Pallas
Methought I journeyed along ways that led for ever
Throughout a happy land where strife and care were dead,
And life went by me flowing like a placid river
Past sandy eyots where the shifting shoals make head.
A land where beauty dwelt supreme, and right, the donor
Of peaceful days; a land of equal gifts and deeds,
Of limitless fair fields and plenty had with honour;
A land of kindly tillage and untroubled meads,
Of gardens, and great fields, and dreaming rose-wreathed alleys,
Wherein at dawn and dusk the vesper sparrows sang;
Of cities set far off on hills down vista'd valleys,
And floods so vast and old, men wist not whence they sprang,
Of groves, and forest depths, and fountains softly welling,
And roads that ran soft-shadowed past the open doors,
Of mighty palaces and many a lofty dwelling,
Where all men entered and no master trod their floors.
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poem by Archibald Lampman
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Black Friday
Killer, intruder, homicidal man.
If you see me coming, run as fast as you can.
A blood thirsty demon whos stalking the street.
I hack up my victims like pieces of meat.
Blood thirsty demon, sinister fiend,
Bludgeonous slaughters, my evil deeds.
My hammers a cold piece of blood-lethal steel.
I grin while you writhe with the pain that I deal.
Swinging the hammer, I hack through their heads,
Deviant defilers, youre next to be dead.
I unleash my hammer with sadistic intent.
Pounding, surrounding, slamming through your head. yeah!
Their bodies convulse, in agony, and, pain.
I mangle their faces, till no features remain.
A blade for the butchering, I cut them to shreds.
First take out the organs, then cut off the head.
The remains of flesh now sop under my feet.
One more bloody massacre, the murders complete.
I seek to dismember, a sadist fiend.
And, blood baths are my way of getting clean.
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song performed by Megadeth
Added by Lucian Velea
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