Quotes about toes!, page 4
That's All
Just as i thought it was goin alright
I found out how wrong when i thought i was right
Its always the same its just a shame thats all
I could say day, and youd say night
Tell me its black when i know thats its white
Its always the same its just a shame thats all
I could leave but i wont go, though my heart might tell me so
I cant feel a thing from my head down to my toes
Why does it always seem to be
Me lookin at you and you lookin at me
Its always the same its just a shame thats all
Turnin me on, turnin me off
Makin me feel like i want too much
Leavin with you is justa puttin me through it all of the time
Runnin around stayin out all night
Takin it all stead of takin one fight
Livin with you is justa puttin me through it all the time
I could leave but i wont go
But itd be easier i know
I cant feel a thing from my head down to my toes
[...] Read more
song performed by Phil Collins
Added by Lucian Velea
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Rock The House
I know you like that
You wanna try that
It's like a flashback
So shake your ass crack
I got the balls to
Rock the salsa
Funk the blues-a
Any groove to
Make you move cos
Taking you to
Another landscape
It's my mandate
I'm highly animated even though I'm decomposing
So if your feet is frozen I'ma die to see you ropin'
And when the MC rhyme and the DJ spin
I want y'all to just get down
Now when the MC rhymin' and the DJ cuttin'
I want y'all to just get down
And when the MC rhyme and the DJ spin
[...] Read more
song performed by Gorillaz from Gorillaz
Added by Lucian Velea
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Beggar
Quick on his toes
Squats on empty floor
Unmindful
Of millions of toes
Which cross the floor
Shaped the incense stick
Vigorously rolled on that floor
Lit it
Fixed on the bowl
Icon of Almighty
And off
Hands spread
To receive the alms
Not bothered
To have revealed the traits
Of his profession.
poem by Sanjay Mehta
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Lazy Imagination On A Friday Morning
sitting on a bench at the veranda
facing the sea
calm sea with seagulls
the sun is not yet here but he is ready
with his act
first he puts his legs on the table
toes wriggling angle
direct to this point of view
the sun arrives
his thumb perfectly covers the sun
his toes like trees
filtering the morning light
he smiles and finds content
on his crazy moment
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Toes and Knees
If my toes could kiss
they would;
they would curl coyly
and touch your shin
and work they way north.
If my toes could have sex
they would
and they would have my foot
kissed
and seek your mouth.
'I'm toe-sensitive
too-sensitive
and I can't really tell anyone.'
he said.
She said;
Well, that is interesting;
[...] Read more
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Death Out Of Fame
I made a death out of fame,
Food became the emblem;
Once the priest forbade the code,
I helped the message into the throat.
We can wear a real heaven on this day,
A clear work has been addressed to us,
The real haunting from a ghost arrived.
Inside, the reality of the stamping of feet
Pressures the toes and feet.
The house so outlandish is to feed
And more toes shall be trod upon by the weak.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Song Beside A Sippy Cup
In the never truly ever
truly dark dark night, ever
blinds-zipped, slat-cut,
dark-parked light,
you (late) touch my toes
with your broad flat own
horny-nailed cold toes.
Clock-tock, wake-shock.
In the ever truly never
truly long long night, our
little snoring-snarling
wild-child mild-child
starling-darling wakes every
two, three (you-sleep) hours,
in the never truly ever
truly lawn brawn fawn dawn.
poem by Jenny Factor
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Shallow Days...
well, there are
shallow days, nothing deep
something for my
feet,
above me the sun
one and only one sun
just the sun and my head
and the shallow waters
on my toes
and the noon time walk
when everyone is as usual
having lunch, and
my toes get wet and i
am making meanings
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Appendages
How many fingers do I have?
Enough to work to the bone.
How many hands do I have?
The two that I do own.
How many toes do I have?
Enough to fill my shoes.
How many feet do I have?
The two that I do use
to get me where I want to go,
walking a leisurely pace.
It seems to be a lost art anymore.
Most are in a race.
But since I am retired
I don't ever rush around.
My fingers, my toes, my hands, my feet
make me slow right down.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Preface: Old Gosh Rhyme
Let him who is minded to meet with a Glug
Pluck three hardy hairs from a rabbit-skin rug;
Blow one to the South, and one to the West,
Then burn another and swallow the rest.
And who shall explain 'tis the talk of a fool,
He's a Glug! He's a Glug of the old Gosh school!
And he'll climb a tree, if the East wind blows,
In a casual way, just to show he knows . . .
Now, tickle his toes!
Oh, tickle his toes!
And don't blame me if you come to blows.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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