Quotes about strut, page 2
Attitude Dancing
(carly simon/jacob brackman)
Theres a new kind of dancing
Thats gonna be the rage
You just leave yourself behind
Like an actor on a stage
Cop a different pose
>from the pose youre in
Shine a different attitude
>from underneath your skin
Attitude dancing
Strut around the floor in a different attitide
Attitude dancing
Any attitude is the proper attitude
Attitude dancing
Dont be afraid to change your attitude
Attitude dancing
Free up your spirit with a new attitude
It dont even matter
If you stretch or shake
And it dont really matter
[...] Read more
song performed by Carly Simon
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hungry Like The Wolf
(ha ha!)
Dark in the city, night is a wire
Steam in the subway, earth is a fire
Do-do do do, do do do, do do do, do do do, do do
Woman you want me, give me a sign
And catch my breathing even closer behind
Do-do do do, do do do, do do do, do do do, do do
In touch with the ground
Im on the hunt Im after you
Smell like I sound, Im lost in a crowd
And Im hungry like the wolf
Straddle the line, in discord and rhyme
Im on the hunt Im after you
Mouth is alive with juices like wine
And Im hungry like the wolf
Stalked in the forest, too close to hide
Ill be upon you by the moonlight side
Do-do do do, do do do, do do do, do do do, do do
High blood drumming ony our skin its so tight
You feel my heart, Im just a moment behind
[...] Read more
song performed by Duran Duran
Added by Lucian Velea
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One More Time!
You may not like what is said!
And go to bed with an achy head.
To wake up the next day dragging dread.
But...
The ruts you keep bottling up to cuss.
With a fussing that slows your strut.
Is for you to face.
And not others to embrace,
Your reality!
ONE MORE TIME!
The ruts you keep bottling up to cuss.
With a fussing that slows your strut.
Is for you to face.
And not others to embrace,
Your reality!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Their Own Myth
They swagger through the wastelands
of their own myth
believing the fantasy
they have built around themselves
of how great they are.
The shallow walls they built around themselves
with one stone could crumble away.
You see them in their peacock glory
prancing around everywhere.
Their heads stretched above the clouds
believing their own myth.
Their feet of clay can only erode
in the full flush of tidal waters.
Their peacock strut will become a limp
when their myth is broken
and things begin to challenge them.
For once, the tidal gate
is breached by leading questions
the clay feet and peacock strut
will be washed away,
[...] Read more
poem by David Harris
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Pigeons Cooing When They Do
Pigeons cooing when they do,
A cooing begun.
As they strut after flying...
Or sit and stare with a sitting done.
They seem to fly around in packs,
To peck and pick in shifts.
Until someone begins to eat,
A delicious 'anything' pigeons seek...
With probing beaks.
Then other pigeons dropp in flocks,
From places suspicious.
While peacocking around,
Scouting out for something dished.
Like some popcorn or peanuts.
Or crumbs from crackers and/or bread.
To feed in a cooing...
As if a drooling done is did.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Indian Myna
Gimme the town an' its clamour an' clutter;
I ain't very fond of the bush;
For my cobbers are coves of the gardens and gutter-
A tough metropolitan push.
I ain't never too keen on the countryfield life;
It's the hustle an' bustle for me an' me wife.
So I swagger an' strut an' I cuss an' I swagger;
I'm wise to the city's hard way.
A bit of a bloke an' a bit of a bragger;
I've always got plenty to say.
Learned thro' knockin' about since my people came out
From the land at the back of Bombay.
When out in the bush I am never a ranger;
There never ain't nothin' to see.
Besides, them bush birds got no time for a stranger;
So town an' the traffic for me.
I sleep in the gardens an' loaf in the street,
An' sling off all day at the fellers I meet.
[...] Read more
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Added by Poetry Lover
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Not Afrocentric Enough
Years ago...
They acted as if,
I was an embarrassment to them.
Not Afrocentric enough.
Even though I had identity,
Branded on my 'strut-and-stuff'!
My name, Lawrence Suhuba
Yuroban selected.
Doubling the meaning of my given name.
Suhuba (Lawrence) now Lawrence S.
Proud of my heritage and having no shame!
None to confess.
Today I 'strut' with my stuff all over the internet.
Doing what I've done most of my life.
And that's write.
And I might have been an embarrassment to them then...
But 'them' not feeling comfortable to be who they are now,
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Happy Easter
Who wants to be a rooster,
Crowing before dawn everyday.
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be a rooster,
Crowing before dawn everyday.
Who wants to be that rooster?
Who wants to be that rooster?
To strut and cluck for someone sleeping,
To get up.
And do that if programmed before the dawn shows up.
And if that rooster gets into a rut...
Who will then do the clucking?
Or wake up,
To collect the eggs!
Who wants to be a rooster,
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Strut On
We humans think we're somethin' else
all sentient and supreme
Rising upward to the top
just like so much cream
We gaze down upon the jungle ape
with looks of pure disdain
They just can't be our relatives
with such an undeveloped brain
All other life is there to serve
or nuisances at best
Since we are God's high creation
we can disregard the rest
Our need for God is even waning
much like a fashion in decline
We are strong and self sufficient
As we proudly strut so fine
[...] Read more
poem by Mark Bratlie
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What Stephen Lawrence Has Taught Us
We know who the killers are,
We have watched them strut before us
As proud as sick Mussolinis',
We have watched them strut before us
Compassionless and arrogant,
They paraded before us,
Like angels of death
Protected by the law.
It is now an open secret
Black people do not have
Chips on their shoulders,
They just have injustice on their backs
And justice on their minds,
And now we know that the road to liberty
Is as long as the road from slavery.
The death of Stephen Lawrence
Has taught us to love each other
And never to take the tedious task
[...] Read more
poem by Benjamin Zephaniah
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