"quotations" poems
Why am I so obsessed
With checking my notifications
If no one texts me
It feels like suffocation
That little red dot
Next to my application
It ***** me off
When it won’t work down at the station
I've got a mate who's into spontaneous flirtation
He met a bird on this app
I think she's Croatian
They went on two dates
And then went on vacation
Meanwhile I'm sat at home
Watching babe station
I fell in love once
Then realised it was infatuation
She said I had no drive
But she had no imagination
When we go out
Theres no conversation
Even Siri
Gives me ******* quotations
My new phone
Is the new sensation
Checking Facebook
My only temptation
I check my phone
Just to know my location
**** it
I’ve had it...
With this nation
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 6:28 AM UTC
Everything in quotations marks and italics was written by TS Eliot.
eyes knowing glossy men,
sheer women, creatures,
not all artists, but artists,
always thus,
centrifugal, simple
from their core,
emanate, resonate,
expand the exterior
with interior precision sculpting
to the interior delve,
via brush or limb,
pen or music,
the exposition, the exploration,
the reconstruction of composing
one's self, creation and destruction
of your own myths
movement of arms and legs,
sparseness of simplicity
subsidiaries of centricity,
tributaries of complexity,
oriented to their locality
the simple purpose of inhalation,
to exhale, after transformation,
the calculus of thought into emotion:
*"the tongues of flame are in-folded
into the crowned knot of fire and
the fire and rose are one"*
the dancers hear the music:
*"so deeply that it is not heard at all,
but you are the music
while the music lasts."*
**”Quick now, here, now always –
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well"**
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 10:42 PM UTC
I try to write a poem,
but poems are too hard
Rhyming is for losers
and airy-fairy bards
To put a pen to paper
and write about your life
I've had enough of all of those,
they only cause me strife
Free-verse script is awful,
for fools without a beat
Repetition's far too simple
just repeat, repeat, REPEAT
Those lovey-dovey ode-things,
that wishy-washy crap
And poems about hatred,
you all deserve a slap
Spare me all your ramblings,
I don't care how you feel
Your self-expression surely stinks
of mouldy day-old eel
To tell a tale of wonder
never ceases too be trite
To sing of magic wonders
is nothing but pure *****
Your metaphors are useless,
your imagery is vile
Your sense of diction makes me gag,
I cannot stand your "style"
So save me your quotations,
please spare me all your rhyme
Shove that poem up your rear
and cease to waste my time
I look at what I've written,
this jumble of clichés
Looks like I wrote a ****** poem
so I'm the one to blame!
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 9:33 AM UTC
Pretty (adj):
1. pleasing or attractive to the eye, as by delicacy or gracefulness;
"Pretty" is a word that's been spewed at you since the day you were born,
A social standard set upon you that you had yet to even hear, but it was being used to describe you instantly;
A "pretty little girl", a "pretty face", "pretty eyes", "pretty smile", "pretty outfit",
Did anyone ever stop to wonder if you'd have a pretty soul?
What about the way you could be brought to tears at the thought of shaming homeless people or victims of abuse, how your heart felt like it was ripping out of your chest when you heard about someone who was struggling,
They didn't seem to care that you tested highest in compassion, they just wanted to know where you got your dress from.
As you grew older the adjective turned from an innocent compliment to what seemed like a snide remark,
The word "pretty" began to eat you from the inside out every time it was said
like you should measure your worth in how delicate others find you;
You stopped accepting "pretty" as a compliment when it turned into an adjective that was only associated with girls that were more than average but less than beautiful,
You stopped accepting "pretty" as a compliment when it became an antonym of strong,
like "pretty" girls were things that would break if you talked too loud, as if loving a "pretty" thing could never be synonymous with loving a durable or sturdy or resilient thing.
D.A. Sharp once said
"You weren't meant to be pretty; you were meant to burn down the earth and graffiti the sky. Don't let anyone ever simplify you to just "pretty"."
And so when someone kindly placed the word in a sentence referring to you you learned to automatically put it into quotations because they were just trying to be nice,
They didn't know they were reducing you to outer beauty, that "pretty" seemed less like a compliment the more it was said, like people couldn't figure out another way to describe you,
As if God hadn't already intricately woven the threads of your DNA, as if he hadn't perfectly tinted every hair on your head to be its crisp burnt color or hand painted the irises of your eyes,
No, "pretty" could no longer cut it.
Because you had been made for bigger and better things,
Those "pretty" eyes of yours will one day see things that God hadn't originally intended anyone to have to see, and those "pretty" hands of yours will have to pick up the pieces of a heartache that God had never wanted you to know and put them back together, and those "pretty" lips of yours are the same lips that will stand in front of sin and tell it that you have chosen Jesus.
Because "pretty" is fine,
but you have been fearfully and wonderfully made, a masterpiece of the Creator.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 7:26 PM UTC
You’re wishing plus wanting
to win the other side
remove your pride,
you untied tidal pool,
the wide subdivide of these paper pages.
Unrelenting numbers
remind you of the next stages,
taking you wildly to Namibia,
surrendering you to Zimbabwe,
the terminal station.
The narration vocalizes the translation of quotations,
your obligation to the violation of the rules, the regulations,
vulgarization of spoken word.
Pretty paintings plaster typecasts,
the pitter-patter of pity’s pretty ******
quickly shifting refurbished velvet sofas.
Overcast symphonies outlast
witty recast stanzas,
scores with notes naturally quote
verses romancing seltzer spines
noticing the negotiation of sore throats.
Oblivion’s oblivious to the people,
obnoxiously obscene with syncopated
saturation of public vital signs.
You’re the vain strain of virus
photocopying yourself within skin,
waste your sin on tattoos trapped on shins
safety pins selecting prints
pinning sets of twins to tanned wrappers
protecting official reports.
The ossuary welcomes records printed on thick paper
suspiciously missing skeleton swords.
Writing stories reversed while tipsy,
quickly preforming risky poetry smog,
sweetly omitting secret words,
trying to spell simply without the proper prologue.
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 1:52 PM UTC
Eyes switching gazes from right to left pupil. Stories held in thin air for a moment in the space between retinas. Words acting as weapons of mass destruction, hanging in the air becoming stale with every inch as each syllable rises into the atmosphere. Forever echoing in the ears of the listener, penetrating thoughts, clouding the brain, like toxic waste. Encouraging words must be found, they must be said. Dreams, inspiration. Into the minds of the growing, the moving, the future. holding the destiny of this world in small, and innocent hands, and wide eyes. Those eyes are the windows to the next generation and the key to the next miracle the universe begs for. Opening windows, and locking front doors, let’s pretend for a second that time is stoppable, moments aren’t lost, and people live forever.
Results aren’t final unless you ask them to be. Things happen we aren’t sure of, flashbacks your days dream. Having doubts that fill our minds wading through the nerves through the brain stem to the core of the cores of the armor. I can talk to my 13 year old self, and tell him that I understand, and that we’re still the same person, I’m just the shell. I can tell him everything I want. But he’s already lived.
In the mirror, switching gazes from iris to pupil. Lungs collapse as the phrases land on the younger heart of mine. Phrases consisting of the negatives, the outcomes, the results, the roots, the stories, the endings, the beginnings, the alterations, the alternations, the provocations, the imagination. Phrases meant to tear down, not rebuild. The destiny of the world held in small hands, clutched by small fingers, as the quotations waft through rooms. The rooms where they escaped ***** angry, and ignorant mouths. The miracle stares at the reflection, not knowing the necessity of the universe. Closing windows, opening doors, wishing the hands on the clocks of life can stop.
Encouraging words must be found, they must be said.
Let’s write history with the minds of the growing, the moving,
the future.
Nurture.
vi.xxi.xi
Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 6:24 AM UTC
I’m indebted to the Oxford Dictionary of Quotations, 4th Edition 1996
**Ab Imo Pectore
A**b imo pectore,
Blandae mendacia linguae,
Cadit quaestio,
Desunt cetera.
E*st modus in rebus.
Faber est quisque fortunae suae,
Gigni de nihilo nihilum, in nihilum nil posse reverti.
Hic finis fandi,
Interdum stultus bene loquitur?
Jacta interdum est alea,
Labuntur et imputantur.
Magni nominis umbra,
Nec scire fas est omnia,
Omne crede diem tibi diluxisse supremun,
Pallida mors aequo pulsat pauperum tabernas regumque turres;
Quid rides, mutato nominee de te fibula narrator,
Res ipsa loquitur.
Solvitur ambulando…
Tempora mutantur, nos et matamur in illis.
Urbi et orbi,
Vestigia nulla retrorsum.*
From The Bottom Of The Heart
From the bottom of the heart, the falsehoods of a smooth tongue,
The question drops, the rest is wanting.
There is a balance in all things, every man is the creator of his own fate.
From nothing, nothing can come, into nothing, nothing can return.
Let there be an end to talking, for who can tell when a fool speaks the truth?
The die is sometimes already cast,
A moment comes and goes, and is laid to our account.
From the smallest shadow to the mightiest name,
No one can claim to know all things,
I believe that every day that dawns may be my last,
Pale death knocks impartially at both poor and rich men’s houses;
Don’t laugh, change the name and the story is yours,
It’s so obvious, it speaks for itself.
As the concept of motion is proven by walking…
So in time all things change, as we must, in time, all change.
And to all the world,
There’s no turning back.
Ab Imo Pectore / From The Bottom Of The Heart
Ab imo pectore,
From the bottom of the heart,
Blandae mendacia linguae,
The falsehoods of a smooth tongue,
Cadit quaestio,
The question drops,
Desunt cetera.
The rest is found wanting.
Est modus in rebus,
There is a balance in all things,
Faber est quisque fortunae suae.
Every man is the creator of his own fate.
Gigni de nihilo nihilum, in nihilum nil posse reverti.
From nothing, nothing can come, into nothing, nothing can return.
Hic finis fandi,
Let there be an end to talking,
Interdum stultus bene loquitur?
For who can tell when a fool speaks the truth?
Jacta interdum est alea.
The die is sometimes already cast,
Labuntur et imputantur.
A moment comes and goes, and is laid to our account.
Magni nominis umbra,
From the smallest shadow to the mightiest name,
Nec scire fas est omnia,
No one can claim to know all things,
Omne crede diem tibi diluxisse supremun,
I believe that every day that dawns may be my last,
Pallida mors aequo pulsat pauperum tabernas regumque turres;
Pale death knocks impartially at both poor man and rich men’s houses;
Quid rides, mutato nominee de te fibula narrator,
Don’t laugh, change the name and the story is yours,
Res ipsa loquitur.
It’s so obvious, that it speaks for itself.
Solvitur ambulando…
As the concept of motion is proven by walking…
Tempora mutantur, nos et matamur in illis.
So in time all things change, as we must, in time, all change.
Urbi et orbi,
And to all the world,
Vestigia nulla retrorsum.
There’s no turning back.
r10.1
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 6:41 PM UTC
I am sorry I have not been writing..
The thing is, that until now, I've been kept busy with boys who have refused to leave my thoughts like a bad song stuck in my head
The thing is that the song was once good but now it only makes me sad,
the thing is that songs aren't as good when you can't picture someone in the lyrics.
The thing is, that you can only quote John Green to yourself so many times until all the words start to get painfully relatable.
Because "Maybe our favorite quotations say more about us than the stories and people we're quoting..."
Because "thats the thing about pain, it demands to be felt"
The thing is that it gets hard to filter your feelings
Because everyone gets tired of not feeling good enough
Because everyone hates a good reason, and a clean break up
Because good and clean makes it hard to be angry
Because sometimes you really need to be angry
Because you cant cure a broken heart in five minutes, you can only lie about your pain tolerance
" You can love someone so much, but you can never love people as much as you'll miss them"
The thing is, that in the morning, I had never felt so empty before, I was not aware I could miss him that much
I think it was better this way, but I think it was worse too
The thing is, I missed out on all the possibilities, well we both did, but I care more
The thing is, It hurts because it mattered
The thing is, I can only pretend to forget
The thing is, I'm tired
The thing is, I haven't written because of him
The thing is, I've written because of him
The things is that there are too many things to say, and not enough courage
Because I'm a **** liar
Because you're a good friend
Because sometimes ****** things happen
Because sometime you cant always come up with a good reason or even a decent excuse, because thats just how somethings are right now and you cant talk yourself out of feelings
Though you sure can try.
The thing is I know I'll get over it, of course I'll get over it
The thing is I can only put so many things into words
Because this has made my head hurt with metaphors and one liners that he simply does not deserve.
Because it feels like I am busting at the seams with phrases that I've been collecting for weeks.
Because its late
Because I am tired
Because My thoughts are stars I can't fathom into constellations.
Because you and I had a rather small infinity
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 12:12 AM UTC
"You are what you eat" they say it so often you would think they were just chewing with their mouths open. You happen to be so many other things than the diet you keep. I think "you are how much you sleep" would be an equally fair claim to your self identity. We regurgitate these talking points with such little consideration and worse we build our lives around these quotations because they are embossed over a scenic, awe-inspiring image on Instagram. These metaphors are so far removed from their original context that they could almost mean anything to anyone inside of their own head. Too often in juxtaposition to one another these contradictory ideas subside inside of you disguised as a rational point of view. Maybe you are what you eat or how much you sleep but do you ever wonder who's words become your thoughts?
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 1:48 PM UTC
When you die
People you will have never met
will give your family condolences
When you die
Spurned former lovers will
send delicate flowers
When you die
People will be summoned to
make you look beautiful
The way that you felt on nights
you enjoyed being yourself the most
When you die
Cautious children will cry
without ever learning
of your conflicting views on children
When you die
They might hang the church wall
with pictures of weddings
and graduations
When you die
You may not be alone
When you die
You might be the first and
the others will all follow
Having made no preparations of their own.
When you die
They might play your favorite song
or they might play a more "appropriate" song
as they lead you away
and some people will be scolding themselves
about forgetting where they parked
When you die
They may have forgotten that you didn't
believe in the afterlife
Quotations from Leviticus notwithstanding
When you die
You could be the the one who made
the most important impact on your daughter or son's life
You might have their life worth living
When you die
It may be to no applause
When you die
It may inspire your mother's gynecologist
to visit a church for the first time in almost half a decade
and feel genuine empathy for the rituals of human dignity
regardless of the tribe
When you die
none of your siblings may attend
the rain might pore on your last parade
and people might go home early
When you die
Everybody may just have a great time
heads beaming, shoulders high
When you die
It might be the longest day of Summer
with waterfights in the park near you were born.
When you die
You will have lived to see
all your ambitions come alive
Even if that penpusher "Reality"
explicitly states otherwise.
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 9:34 AM UTC
Psychic spies from Manhattan
Try to steal your mind's elation
Little fillies from Appleloosa
Dream of silver screen quotations
And if you want these kind of dreams
It's Aliicornication
It's the edge of the world
And all of Equestrian civilization
The sun may rise in the East
At least it settles in a final location
It's understood that Canterlot
sells Aliicornication.
Pay your Princess very well
To break the spell of aging
Celestia skin is this your wings
Or is that war your waging
Chorus:
First born unicorn
Hard core than sorin'
Dream of Aliicornication
Dream of Aliicornication
Marry me Mare be my Alicorn to the world
Be my very own constellation
A teenage liaison with a baby dragon
Getting high on information
And buy me a star on the boulevard
It's Aliicornication
Alicorns may be the final frontier
But it's made in a Canterlot basement
Twilight can you hear the spheres
Singing songs off history to history
And Starswirl's not far away
It's Aliicornication
Born and raised by those who praise
Control of suns rotation everypony's been there before
And I don't mean on vacation
Chorus
Magic leads to a very rough road
But it also breeds creation
And an alicorn from a unicorn
It's just another good coronation
And tidal waves couldn't save the world
From Aliicornication
Pay your princess very well
To break the spell of aging
Smarter than the rest
There is no test
But wings is what you're craving.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 4:34 AM UTC
Inspiration from making amazing quotations
The nation's defending its life with its shields
But the swords are all rusted the kingdom's been busted
and the ******* are bathing in gold that they steal
While the people are lying their babies are crying
their rhythm is dying 'cause heartbeats are gone
But they carry it trying to stop themselves crying
as they can't do nothing but watch on and on
As the bankers get richer the poor men get poorer
the ones in the middle are learning to steal
Where before they just borrowed now they got new sorrow
but still they don't know that they ain't down at heel
They think they are poor so they vote in the richest
just hoping the ******* will keep them in funds
While the genuine destitute lie in the street
and the taxes are funding those twats' cummerbunds
There's a baby who's crying not just 'cause she's some brat
who ain't got no ice cream she's dying of cold
Yes it happens in streets prob'ly near where you live
it isn't just something in stories of old
There are people out there in the gorbals and barrios
the projects the banlieues the hoods and the schemes
Where their lives are the ghetto there is no way out
but to hope or to rap or to wing on a dream
They ask why you ain't reading you try but it's killing you
trying to provide for a family of two
When your mother's alone lying slumped on the sofa
and work w-w-working is all you can do
When the **** do you think I'm supposed to be doing
this **** that you say I cannot live without?
If you listened to lyrics from songs you disparage
you might start to feel an iota of doubt
They're intelligent, eloquent, more so than you
with your old boy school accent and ballot box blue
Can you rap, can you rhyme, can you keep it in time
can you tell of the **** that your family's been through?
No you sit in your office and scoff at the people
who spend their whole lives in a world that is real
They don't give a **** if you judge them or not
but they just want to shout at you
FEEL, ****** FEEL
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 11:54 AM UTC
Gawking at the screen
I convene here
What words should I accumulate?
Tonight
Vocabulary building up
Structuring the tallest and widest of sentences
One hand, I hold a dictionary
At the desk,Is my thesaurus
Matching wits with myself
How do I use partial vowels?
Grammar mostly perplex
To a perfect sentence
No other quotations is near
An average line is over due
What imprison me from being incomplete?
An unexplainable sentence
Of writing
On a foggy Monday
As I awaken
By touching
A blank sheet of paper
Jan 27, 2010
Jan 27, 2010 at 5:35 AM UTC
Hey, I don't mean any offense, but man,
your lyrics lack essence!
Walking disasters with their gang signs and excuses
of artistic freedom spit out words
and pass it off as lyrics;
with their rebellious attitudes,
rhymes from ************ to ************
addicted, afflicted, constricted, predicted.
Please.
Words you produce
are misused, overused.
With twenty-six letters and endless combinations,
your lyrics sound more like quotations!
I've heard those stories before.
If you want to stand out,
stand up
and walk through disasters.
I want words
that stir,
that move,
that breathes
a different air into these lungs
who's tired of clones and copies,
words that no longer shake this body.
I want words of liberation,
acclamation of passions,
filtration of frustrations,
words of sensations,
plantations and gestations
of hope and light,
strength that will keep me in sight
of the goals in the Fight.
Now that
is artistic freedom.
—S.C., October 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 1:37 PM UTC
I have tried here to create an Essay on Mother
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~with love, Sylvia FC
a Mother,
a GodMother,
a GrandMother,
the central figure in every family's life,
who has the quality of a professor,
the patience of an angel,
the power of Tarzan
the unique habit of keeping her family together as a united one,
with that special kind of love which we cannot see,
we as her kids can only feel it, smell the atmosphere of the cosy surrounds at home as we never could ever feel elsewhere...
East-West
at home with Mom is always the best!!
her cookies are the most delicious ones
we love to talk about her in superlatives
Mother a place to hide when we have fear or anxiety,
under Mother's wings is always a peaceful home-coming...
daughters love to write a great tribute to Her
as well as to Mothership
Some quotations from different sources I put down here:
First from the Bible:
"Honour thy mother and thy father" Bible: Exodus
"As is the mother, so is her daughter" Bible: Ezekiel
And now from other sources:
"So for the mother's sake the child was dear"
"And dearer was the mother for the child" (Samuel Taylor Coleridge 'Sonnet to a Friend Who Asked How I Felt When the Nurse First Presented My Infant Child to Me')
"All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That is his" (Oscar Wilde The Importance of Being Earnest)
And the last quotation is mine:
"A Mother is the most complete human-being on earth,
the caring and loving person,
the only one to whom daughters write a greatest tribute,
the safest place to come home...
a Mother is like Home...." (Sylvia Frances Chan)
© SYLVIA FRANCES CHAN
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 11:07 AM UTC
She kissed him
With question marks?
While he kissed her
With "quotations"
And together they became
a run on sentence...
Aug 17, 2019
Aug 17, 2019 at 10:55 AM UTC
There are so many
Ways to live by
Numerous routes
One could
Take in their
Lifetime
It exhausts me
Just to
Think about it
There are so many
Quotations to
Memorize and
Organize and
Believe in
People forget those
One's
Never followed
Anyone
Their vice of
Self - fulfillment or
Self - worth or
Self - righteousness or
Self - obsession
Left them alone and
Mad
Most of the time
But that's
The way
It goes...
There are so many
Lifestyles around me
They dilute people
That live it
To have a strange
Horrifying
Glaze across their eyes
As if they were
Robots or
The Undead or
-even worse-
Brimming with illusory
Finiteness or
Settling with the
Result
As if
This were
It
All this
Has been happening
Since the dawn
Of
Time
Cavemen opted for
Deer fur
Rather then
Bear fur
Harder to **** a bear
It is those
Tiny things that
Mother Nature
-The *****
Leads us to
As if we were
Blind right
From the
Start
Powerless against
Her
Shackled at the
Beginning
Make do
With what you've got
Sit back and
Let life
Reveal itself
Day in
And
Day out
Oct 31, 2011
Oct 31, 2011 at 4:14 AM UTC
Stopping placing me on this pedestal
Of your high expectations.
This pedestal of your high demands
And harsh words in quotations.
Building faster than I can find
My balance on my feet,
Gripping and grasping on to the edge
Not exactly an acrobatic feat.
You construct this column so high
As I struggle to keep up.
So high up here all alone,
And all I want to do is backup.
Please, I'm begging on my knees,
Up here all alone and I feel a lone breeze.
Only the sky up here on this solitary pedestal so tall,
And the higher you place me, the harder I'll fall...
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 6:23 PM UTC
Sometimes it was as if she sipped chlorine
from little bottle caps with yellow nails,
tilting her skeletal neck back,
balancing it on a vertebrae that popped
through the top of her pastel blouse.
Really though, she ate media on sandwich bread;
believed anything in bold with twin quotations.
She was a hint of a woman, blue eyes. Translucent,
fair, a suggestion haunted by her own demons
that she dreampt about after I stayed up, waiting
for the sleeping pills to kick
in. After the baby came she obsessed
over her thickness, was confused and destroyed
as she called it by the miracle I laid in the crib
every night. Old photographs weren’t memories,
just reminders of how she used to look.
She would scream, explode with frustration,
when the baby wouldn’t stop crying, begged
Why doesn’t she like me? But it’s hard to hold
onto a ghost, sweetie. So she swore,
and she swore that tomorrow would be better,
she would get better. But I know
that once again I’ll make her a breakfast she’ll never eat,
rock the baby back to sleep,
and loop myself around another sunrise
just to feel warm again.
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 6:31 PM UTC
Lying on the cold kitchen floor
Tears streaming down her face
Her cheeks are burning worse than they ever have before
A twinge of pain in a hip rendered weak
A wave of depressive agony wipes over her face again
Screaming above her head, words that make no sense
Quotations around the pain her mother uses
A cold dragging stagger walk to a hospital all by herself.
Sep 11, 2020
Sep 11, 2020 at 11:21 AM UTC
I was dreaming lucky
But woke up cold in hand;
I dreamed I had a dollar
But woke up cold in hand.
Woke up this morning
Feel around for my shoes.
You know about that?
They took yours too?
Sometimes I feel
Like walkin'.
Sometimes I feel
Like cryin'.
Sometimes I feel
Like a motherless child.
Sometimes I feel
Like I ain't no one at all.
Say brother,
I can't make change
For a nickle.
Say sister, oh sister,
Can you spare me
One thin dime?
"When a man gets the blues
He grabs a train and rides."
I know
I ain't no man.
"When a woman gets the blues
She hangs her head and cries."
I know
I don't feel
Like no woman.
So when I get me back
My walkin' shoes,
Those worn out, old walkin' shoes,
I'm takin' this suitcase
Full of blues I got
And ride the boxcar blinds
Past Boogie Street
All the way to
Johnson's Crossroads.
Lines in Quotations are direct from Train Whistle Blues by Jimmie Rodgers, 1929
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 3:24 PM UTC