There are sadistic scientists who hurry to hunt down errors instead of establishing the truth.
classic quote by Marie Curie
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Truth Through Repetition
Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition
ruth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition T
uth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Tr
th through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Tru
h through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Trut
through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
hrough repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth t
rough repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth th
ough repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth thr
ugh repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth thro
gh repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth throu
h repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth throug
repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through
repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through
epetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through r
petition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through re
etition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through rep
tition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repe
ition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repet
tion Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repeti
ion Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetit
on Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetiti
n Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetitio
Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetiion
Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition
ruth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition T
uth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Tr
th through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Tru
h through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Trut
through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
through repetition Truth through repetition Truth through repetition Truth
poem by David Keig
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
County Fair
This time each year in our hometown
The county fair comes our way
Where the folks gather round to be happy and spend their day
A-heres what happened now,
I soon decide that Id take with me
The most specialest girl I knew
I had her pack us a lunch and on down the dirt road we flew
(hurry hurry, step right up and win your girl a stuffed koala bear)
[aw, come on nicky. win me a koala bear]
(break the balloon with a dart)
(yes you son, come up here. win your girl a stuffed koala bear)
[oh please win me a koala bear]
(break the balloon with a dart. come on son, step right up)
(get up there, thats a boy)
Right then I knew what I had to do
(hurry, hurry)
Before that day was through
(step right up)
I had to win a stuffed doggie or Id break her poor heart in two
(hurry, hurry)
(win a prize)
A let me tell you now,
I passed up a chance when I walked by a booth
(hurry, hurry)
Where you throw a dart and break a balloon
(step right up)
I snuck by a couple more, but I had to get caught real soon
(hurry, hurry)
(win a prize)
(step right up, test your strength.)
(come on son, ring the bell with the hammer)
[aww, come on muscles]
(win your girl a stuffed koala bear)
[ooohhh]
(come on son, are you a man or a weakling? )
(yes you, step up here and test your strength)
(win your girl a stuffed koala bear)
[come on baby]
(come on son)
I hit the rubber stump just as hard as I could
(hurry, hurry)
But I didnt make it ring the bell
(step right up)
I tried again and again, but I just didnt do so well
(hurry, hurry)
(win a prize)
Can you believe it now,
Up walked a fella and he tapped me on the shoulder, said
(hurry, hurry)
I can win your girl a prize
[...] Read more
song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Convocation: A Poem
When Vertue's Standard Ecclesiasticks bear,
Their sacred Robe the noblest Minds revere.
All to its Guidance do their Thoughts submit,
But such who triumph in licentious Wit;
And nauseous Mirth as high Desert esteem,
When rais'd by Scorn upon Religion's Theme
As Kings by Right Divine o'er Nations sway,
As the most worthy, their high Pow'rs obey;
Homage by all is to the Priesthood born,
And none but Fools their Heav'nly Pastors scorn.
Yet censure not the Muse's Freedom here:
If urg'd by Errors, she must seem severe!
Tho' keen her Satyr, she no Envy bears;
Tho' Priests she lashes, she their Function spares.
Nor for ill Members such the Clergy calls,
But on their Shame, and not their Glory, falls.
Of all the Plagues with which the World is curst,
Time has still prov'd that Priestcraft is the worst.
By some, what Notions thro' the World are spread?
On Falshoods grounded, and from Int'rest bred;
Errour has still the giddy World perplext,
Whilst Scripture gilds it with some sacred Text.
This wild Opinions Strife and Faction brings,
The Bane of Nations, the Misrule of Kings.
Priests oft profane what they from Heav'n derive;
Some live by Legends, some by Murders thrive,
Some sell their Gods, and Altar-Rites deface,
With Doctrines some the Brain-sick People craze.
The Pagan prey on slaughter'd Wretches Fates,
The Romish fatten on the best Estates,
The British stain what Heav'n has right confest,
And Sectaries the Scriptures falsly wrest.
Amongst the Tribe, how few are, as they ought,
Clear in their Souls, instructive in their Thought!
The Good, like Prophets, shew their Precepts pure;
The Ill with Craft the Heav'nly Light obscure;
False to their Trust, they lead their Flocks astray,
And with their Errors cloud the sacred Way.
Tho' artless Numbers may my Verses throng,
Yet now Religion's Cause inspires my Song:
[...] Read more
poem by Richard Savage
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Carny Town
(words & music by wise - starr)
Aha-ha hurry, hurry step this way
Aha-ha hurry, hurry step this way
Now the show youre going to see is strictly high class
Therell be ten hoola dancers shaking their grass
So step right up and put your money down
This way to carny town
We got a man so skinny you can see his bones
We play on his ribs like a xylophone
With a pair of spoons we get a rockin song
Youll hear it all, in carny town
Hurry, hurry, hurry, the house is almost full
We got a two headed cow and thats no bull
Theres a man who swallows swords and he never gets hurt
He eats razor blades for dessert
Hes just about the sharpest guy around
Youll see him here, in carny town
Aha-ha hurry, hurry step this way
Aha-ha hurry, hurry step this way
Aha-ha hurry, hurry step this way
Aha-ha hurry, hurry step this way
Aha-ha I say were gonna win
I said hurry up
song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Unforgiven Hunt
I shouldn't be telling you this
No one should be telling you this, but
Only a few people even know
About the time of the Unforgiven Hunt-
We are on the Unforgiven Hunt, so I should tell you
I can't even tell you
What the Hunt is about
And why it is called just that-
The Hunt
But I just told you
That the Hunt is called the Hunt
For a reason-
So now I should tell you the whole story
How we came to this point
Why our features stand out
In the whole world, all the countries
First, we were like all the others
Down-to-earth, forgiving, out loud
Sharing all our secrets
But now the Hunt people regret
That we came this far
We came this far, we broke our friendship apart
Now we are on the Unforgiven Hunt
The time of the Hunt started at the time of the Hunt
No one really knows
When it was, what it was that unbalanced the scale
Of life and death-
But we are on the Unforgiven Hunt
We started the Unforgiven Hunt by saying,
"We have to increase our lifestyle, then we'll stop"
But over time, it grew to be our hobby
Beating other countries
In machines, in factories and greed
In food, in water and high standards
In shelter, in organizing, in need
We are still on the Unforgiven Hunt
Truth and Reality (Opinion)
Daily at the end of my "anusthaanam"-(spiritual ritual) ", I make a strong, fervent and sincere prayer to the Divinity that intellectuals and scholars in the world should be fearless and speak the truth without any inhibitions. This has been the tradition of our ancestors and speaking truth is essential for the benefit of the society and the society will be able to know the actualities and act on them.
Normally the rulers do not like the truth to be known. Also leaders of ideologies, religions, their supporters and the like also do not like the truth to be known to the ordinary people. The writers are normally and should be fearless such that the ills and evils in the society are exposed and remedial measures are taken. But what is truth?
Truth is what it is or as it is irrespective of perceptions of the individuals. Reality is what we see of truth; how much we see of truth. Reality is always dictated by our mental make-up, likes, dislikes, limitations in our ability and willingness to see, view, comprehend and accept the truth. Reality is individual's perception of the truth. Truth, most of the times, is only perceived and rarely understood or experienced. Thus reality is limited truth. Reality is either inability to be truthful or inability and limitations of the individual to see the truth unbiased. Also truth corresponds to the individual, about himself, his Self and the reality corresponds to the objective world within and without the body of the individual.
Real situations are compromised states of existence in the attempt of pursuit of the truth. We all talk about truth limited by our perception and not the truth most of the times. We have compulsions inbuilt, acquired or imagined not to accept the truth and allow truth to be spoken or spread through us. But truth is a flowing river. It may flood us but it never dries up. On the other the reality is like a stagnated lake. Our fear of repercussions taking place if we speak, accept or propagate truth, make us real and not truthful. We prefer peaceful and calm life. We call that realistic approach and adjust and compromise.
Thus, most of the times, we are not truthful. We are all limited and confined to our perceptions of truth. Truth is best revealed when understood or experienced. But we rarely get such insight. All our knowledge and information is hearsay through books, newspapers, magazines, radio and TV news channels, web sites etc, . We are all aware that these books and news items are filtered through the editors and owners of these media. Thus the perceptions of these responsible and financing individuals decide the truth content in the item. We pick up these as truth and argue or form our own perceptions. Sometimes the editorial policy of the editors or owners of these media do not allow truth as it is to reach us when they find it objectionable in that form. Thus truth is never completely known or allowed to be known and hence not completely comprehended. The fears, imaginations, illusions shape our perceptions and our comprehension of the truth. Many times it appears that no absolute truth exists or known, perceived or understood and experienced. Just as feelings and perceptions of good and bad and other qualities, truth is also relative as "truth to me", "truth to him", "truth to you", "truth to them" and a truth accepted by all is not possible and available to be expressed, accepted or spread and we all mistake our perceptions of truth as truth without understanding or experiencing the truth. But truth is like fire. It can not be hidden or held in hand.
the palm. Truth sneaks through our cautions and suppression and declares itself.
poem by Varanasi Ramabrahmam
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Interpretation of Nature and
I.
MAN, being the servant and interpreter of Nature, can do and understand so much and so much only as he has observed in fact or in thought of the course of nature: beyond this he neither knows anything nor can do anything.
II.
Neither the naked hand nor the understanding left to itself can effect much. It is by instruments and helps that the work is done, which are as much wanted for the understanding as for the hand. And as the instruments of the hand either give motion or guide it, so the instruments of the mind supply either suggestions for the understanding or cautions.
III.
Human knowledge and human power meet in one; for where the cause is not known the effect cannot be produced. Nature to be commanded must be obeyed; and that which in contemplation is as the cause is in operation as the rule.
IV.
Towards the effecting of works, all that man can do is to put together or put asunder natural bodies. The rest is done by nature working within.
V.
The study of nature with a view to works is engaged in by the mechanic, the mathematician, the physician, the alchemist, and the magician; but by all (as things now are) with slight endeavour and scanty success.
VI.
It would be an unsound fancy and self-contradictory to expect that things which have never yet been done can be done except by means which have never yet been tried.
VII.
The productions of the mind and hand seem very numerous in books and manufactures. But all this variety lies in an exquisite subtlety and derivations from a few things already known; not in the number of axioms.
VIII.
Moreover the works already known are due to chance and experiment rather than to sciences; for the sciences we now possess are merely systems for the nice ordering and setting forth of things already invented; not methods of invention or directions for new works.
IX.
The cause and root of nearly all evils in the sciences is this -- that while we falsely admire and extol the powers of the human mind we neglect to seek for its true helps.
X.
The subtlety of nature is greater many times over than the subtlety of the senses and understanding; so that all those specious meditations, speculations, and glosses in which men indulge are quite from the purpose, only there is no one by to observe it.
XI.
As the sciences which we now have do not help us in finding out new works, so neither does the logic which we now have help us in finding out new sciences.
XII.
The logic now in use serves rather to fix and give stability to the errors which have their foundation in commonly received notions than to help the search after truth. So it does more harm than good.
XIII.
[...] Read more
poem by Sir Francis Bacon
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Open The Gate
I see you from the distance
From beyond the fence you made
Hiding all your feelings
Behind your barricade
Oh have you been invaded
Is this the reason why you hide
I know just how you're feeling
I know - let me inside
Open the gate up
Open the gate up - hurry
Open the gate up - hurry
I want to get near you
But you just won't let me in
'Cause you're so scared of losing
Everything you've got within
Come on now you can trust me
Come on and open the door
'Cause I know just how you're feeling
I know - I've been there before
Open the gate up
Open the gate up - hurry
Open the gate up
Hurry hurry hurry hurry
And do it right now
Do it right now
Do it right now
Do it right now - hurry
Do it right now - do it right now
Do it right now - do it right now
And do it right now - do it right now
Do it right now - do it right now
Hurry
Open the gate up
Open the gate up - hurry
Open the gate up
Hurry hurry hurry hurry
Open the gate up - open the gate up
Or I'm gonna knock the damn door down
Open the gate up - open the gate up
Or I'm gonna knock the damn door down
Open the gate up - open the gate up
Or I'm gonna knock the damn door down
Open the gate up - open the gate up
Or I'm gonna knock the damn door down
[...] Read more
song performed by No Doubt from Beacon Street Collection
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Hurry up! Hurry up! Hurry up!
Hurry up to fall in love!
Be surprised how beautiful it is!
Hurry up to speak of love!
Realize that these words can anyone please.
To give yourself to others –
What happiness it is!
All people are sisters and brothers
Take care of friendship, please!
Don’t hide the feelings of admiration!
It’s a foundation of love creation.
Use your brain but more imagination
If you want to find the right station.
Hurry up to be needed by someone!
Don’t suffer of senseless doubts!
Everyone on the Earth needs love,
No one wants the bailouts.
Hurry up to mourn and even to cry!
Those are forlorn whose eyes are always dry.
With every breath the time runs out,
Every moment of life is a gift beyond any doubt.
[...] Read more
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Errors
there will be always errors
my errors
not yours, even your errors
shall be mine
for there will always be errors
that is too normal
for our lifetime
too short to be erroneous
but always real
too real to be touched
too exciting
to be always noticed
and too numb to be affected
by their
hypocrisies
you too? oh my, why?
don't you like to be the most normal
bird with only two wings
to fly?
how can you use a third wing?
to see with the third eye
aren't you funny to see
on this third
excess?
come, let us feast on these errors
drink these glasses of errors
be filled and vomit with errors
defecate these errors
and be empty again
after having learned so much
to become the
newest genius in this town
of errors.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Victoria Gardens
Youre looking and listening and hoping
That things are changing for the better
Youre trying to see if what youre teaching is the truth sir
Youre looking and listening and hoping
That things will change for better
Dont want to preach or teach the blues to you now brother
I just left victoria gardens
And walked through cardboard city land
A burnt out star was asking
How would I like to shake his hand
I walked on in no hurry (hurry hurry hurry)
And wondered where did we go wrong?
Were looking and listening and hoping
That things are changing for the better
Dont want to preach or teach the blues to you now brother
I walked on in no hurry (hurry hurry hurry)
And wondered where did we go wrong?
Looking listening hoping that things are changing for the better
(only time can tell)
Its a bloody fine situation
That we find ourselves in
He said something I couldnt mention (here)
And we laughed with him again
I walked on in no hurry (hurry hurry hurry)
And wondered where did we go wrong?
Looking listening hoping that things are changing for the better
And trying to see if what youre teaching is the truth sir
She said its for the good of us all
(of us all, of us all, of us all)
Looking listening hoping that things are changing for the better
Dont want to preach or teach the blues to you now brother
Im not so sure
(sure, sure, sure)
And now it is early evening
I look across grey leicester square
A large and silent crowd were walking
Said they had every right to be there
song performed by Madness
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Out of Season
It's tragic!
And more sadistic it gets,
When a truth is left to sit...
To be decided by those most misfit.
It's tragic!
And more sadistic it gets,
When a truth is left to sit...
To be decided by those most misfit.
Integrity once had is not allowed.
Those made to feel a guilt,
Had walked so proud.
But now...
They're out of season.
It's tragic!
And more sadistic it gets,
When a truth is left to sit...
To be decided by those most misfit.
It's tragic!
And more sadistic it gets,
When a truth is left to sit...
To be decided by those most misfit.
Integrity once had is not allowed.
Those made to feel a guilt,
Had walked so proud.
But now...
They're out of season.
Integrity once had is not allowed.
Those made to feel a guilt,
Had walked so proud.
But now...
They're out of season.
Where is the truth and the goodness of the people.
Have they all gone out of season.
The goodness of the people.
Oh...
Where is the truth and the goodness of the people.
Have they all gone out of season.
The goodness of the people.
Oh...
Where is the truth and the goodness of the people.
Have they all gone out of season.
The goodness of the people.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
I. The Ring and the Book
Do you see this Ring?
'T is Rome-work, made to match
(By Castellani's imitative craft)
Etrurian circlets found, some happy morn,
After a dropping April; found alive
Spark-like 'mid unearthed slope-side figtree-roots
That roof old tombs at Chiusi: soft, you see,
Yet crisp as jewel-cutting. There's one trick,
(Craftsmen instruct me) one approved device
And but one, fits such slivers of pure gold
As this was,—such mere oozings from the mine,
Virgin as oval tawny pendent tear
At beehive-edge when ripened combs o'erflow,—
To bear the file's tooth and the hammer's tap:
Since hammer needs must widen out the round,
And file emboss it fine with lily-flowers,
Ere the stuff grow a ring-thing right to wear.
That trick is, the artificer melts up wax
With honey, so to speak; he mingles gold
With gold's alloy, and, duly tempering both,
Effects a manageable mass, then works:
But his work ended, once the thing a ring,
Oh, there's repristination! Just a spirt
O' the proper fiery acid o'er its face,
And forth the alloy unfastened flies in fume;
While, self-sufficient now, the shape remains,
The rondure brave, the lilied loveliness,
Gold as it was, is, shall be evermore:
Prime nature with an added artistry—
No carat lost, and you have gained a ring.
What of it? 'T is a figure, a symbol, say;
A thing's sign: now for the thing signified.
Do you see this square old yellow Book, I toss
I' the air, and catch again, and twirl about
By the crumpled vellum covers,—pure crude fact
Secreted from man's life when hearts beat hard,
And brains, high-blooded, ticked two centuries since?
Examine it yourselves! I found this book,
Gave a lira for it, eightpence English just,
(Mark the predestination!) when a Hand,
Always above my shoulder, pushed me once,
One day still fierce 'mid many a day struck calm,
Across a Square in Florence, crammed with booths,
Buzzing and blaze, noontide and market-time,
Toward Baccio's marble,—ay, the basement-ledge
O' the pedestal where sits and menaces
John of the Black Bands with the upright spear,
'Twixt palace and church,—Riccardi where they lived,
His race, and San Lorenzo where they lie.
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Let Me Give You My Love
What a day, young boy next door passed away.
It makes me wanna say,
"Hey, I don't wanna waste another day."
Can you and I start mixing gene pools?
Eastern, Western, people get naughty, multilingual?
I was sort of like soul searching,
But your body's so jaw-dropping,
Our chemistry's ground-breaking,
Don't keep me waiting?
Hurry up baby,
Hurry up baby,
let me give you my love.
Hurry up,
Lets turn this room into a melting pot?
Giddy up baby,
Giddy up baby,
Let me give you my love.
Buckle up boy,
I know you're gonna like what I got?
Maybe it's not worth the wait.
Maybe I should walk away.
Hey, I don't want to waste my energy.
Can you and I stop acting like fools,
Or move on to other people?
It's funny, but I liked that sad song.
I was sort of like soul searching,
But your body's so jaw-dropping,
Some say its rule-breaking,
But times are changing?
Hurry up baby,
Hurry up baby,
let me give you my love.
Hurry up,
Lets turn this room into a melting pot?
Giddy up baby,
Giddy up baby,
Let me give you my love.
Buckle up boy,
I know you're gonna like what I got?
Let me know if what I'm feeling isn't mutual.
All I know is that I'm feeling very very hot?
Hurry up baby,
Hurry up baby,
let me give you my love.
Hurry up,
Lets turn this room into a melting pot?
Giddy up baby,
Giddy up baby,
Let me give you my love.
Buckle up boy,
[...] Read more
song performed by Utada Hikaru
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Printer's Error
Fellow compositors
and pressworkers!
I, Chief Printer
Frank Steinman,
having worked fifty-
seven years at my trade,
and served five years
as president
of the Holliston
Printer's Council,
being of sound mind
though near death,
leave this testimonial
concerning the nature
of printers' errors.
First: I hold that all books
and all printed
matter have
errors, obvious or no,
and that these are their
most significant moments,
not to be tampered with
by the vanity and folly
of ignorant, academic
textual editors.
Second: I hold that there are
three types of errors, in ascending
order of importance:
One: chance errors
of the printer's trembling hand
not to be corrected incautiously
by foolish professors
and other such rabble
because trembling is part
of divine creation itself.
Two: silent, cool sabotage
by the printer,
the manual laborer
whose protests
have at times taken this
historical form,
covert interferences
not to be corrected
censoriously by the hand
of the second and far
more ignorant saboteur,
the textual editor.
[...] Read more
poem by Aaron Fogel
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
XI. Guido
You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Lone White Wolf: The Hunt
As the first day of the new moon creeps into the trees, no wolf among the pack gathers to see the light overcome the darkness to bring in the new day except the lone white wolf. This peculiar wolf is almost solid white except for the black along the length of his nose. It watches over the pack as they peacefully sleep, unaware of his eyes that could protect everything that was soon to come.
Today was the first day of the long hunt for the white wolf. He must bring down an animal that could feed the whole pack for several days, so he could become an official member of the pack, but more importantly, he must prove himself to be one with the pack instead of running alone.
The leader of the wolf pack slowly raises his head like a turtle to look around to see who’s awake. He sees all the wolves are still asleep in a tight circle except the outcast. The leader doesn’t understand why this wolf sleeps alone nor does he understand why the wolf was born white instead of gray. The white wolf stirs from his wakeful sleep. The eyes of the self-proclaimed leader stay on him before moving off to look into the distance searching for all the answers to his questions among the countless trees.
The leader of the wolf pack slowly gets up and walks to the lone wolf and nudges him to sound the morning howl. It was customary for the leader of the wolf pack to do this, but for reasons unknown to any wolf besides the leader, the wolf chose the outcast to sound the howl. The white wolf understands and gives a howl to stir the remaining wolves out of their deep slumber.
Once all the wolves are fully awake and able to comprehend what today is and what it means for the outcast, they realize it is the first day of the new moon. It is the first day of the long hunt. All of the wolves first look to the leader, then to the outcast, then back to the leader wondering who is going to give the special howl to begin the long hunt. No wolf willingly howled the beginning of the long hunt because if the howl was bad, the hunt would go badly, but if the howl was good, the hunt would go smoothly and the hunt would be short. The answer is soon apparent when the eyes of the leader look over the pack to see whose eyes would meet his. None but one pair kept his gaze.
The leader gave a sign, and the wolf began to prepare to give the special howl that would determine the outcome of the hunt. A wolf could not open its muzzle and give an ordinary howl since the hunt would also go badly. To give the special howl the wolf must pull back its hind legs and brace itself to make sure all legs are securely anchored to the ground so that the wolf, while giving the special howl would not slide backwards during the middle of it.
The lone wolf was ready mentally and physically to give the special howl. Once his feet were securely on the ground, the wolf began the howl. The lone white wolf put everything in his howl: the pain of being an outcast his entire life, the anger at his individuality, everything was put into that howl. Wolves stepped back with their fur standing on end; birds flew away squawking bloody murder. The others started yipping and snapping at nothing in particular remembering everything they’d ever felt. After the lone wolf was done, he realized the effect his special howl had on the wolves and he noticed the disarray and confusion that he had caused.
The leader is satisfied and gets the pack into order; it was time to begin the hunt. The wolves began running, their muscles rippling beneath their skin. Nothing could stop them. Their destination was a mile and a half down the road where the large game was located. Running freely among the wolf pack, the lone wolf didn’t feel like an outcast, but whenever he began to get too close, a shallow snip on the shoulder would shove him away to a safer distance.
The game was just ahead; it was time for the lone wolf to prove himself to the pack. The lone wolf went ahead of the pack and picked one of the biggest caribou he could find and slowly approached while the pack followed. The wolves lurched like a bullet from a gun onto the caribou with the white wolf clinging to the exposed flesh of the neck bringing it to the ground but not before it got one last kick in. The kill was successful; the caribou was dead. It was then that the white wolf noticed the bloody mess of the leader of the pack. The last kick of the now dead caribou landed on the skull of the leader, and he was dead instantly. The sight was a grizzly one with his skull caved in and blood gushing out of the wound.
The self-proclaimed leader was dead with no next-in-line to follow. Every wolf looked to the now dead leader, then to the outcast, then back to the dead leader, and then back to the outcast. The white wolf met the eyes of each wolf and got an unspoken request from each one. It was unanimous; the previous outcast of the pack became the leader. For the first time in history, a white wolf was chosen to lead and will lead the wolves to a prosperity the wolves have never known.
2009 October
poem by Matthew Bresette
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society
Epigraph
Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.
I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.
You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Truth The Whole Truth And Nothing But The Truth
Lonely days lonely nights
Hoping thing's gonna turn out right
You had me hanging on a string
For you I did most anything
You don't give me no
The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth
Its a blind mans eye baby ain't no youth
The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth
Don't need your lies I got my proof
Put your face up to my window
Ask me baby what did I see
Well I know I know you ain't right
I know you ain't right for me
You don't give me no
The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth
Gods little baby's got nothing to shoot
The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth
Get your kicks on a different route
All I want is the truth
All I want is the truth
All I want is
The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth
Blind mans eye baby ain't no use
The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth
Don't need your lies I got nothing to prove
The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth
Gods little baby's got nothing to shoot
The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth
Get your kicks on a different route
Don't hurt ya
Don't hurt ya
The truth don't hurt ya
The truth don't hurt ya
Don't hurt ya don't hurt ya
The truth don't hurt ya
(fade)
song performed by Ian Hunter
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
The Truth Whole Truth, Nuthin But The Truth
(ian hunter)
Lonely days lonely nights
Hoping things gonna turn out right
You had me hanging on a string
For you I did most anything
You dont give me no
The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth
Its a blind mans eye baby aint no youth
The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth
Dont need your lies I got my proof
Put your face up to my window
Ask me baby what did I see
Well I know I know you aint right
I know you aint right for me
You dont give me no
The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth
Gods little babys got nothing to shoot
The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth
Get your kicks on a different route
All I want is the truth
All I want is the truth
All I want is
The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth
Blind mans eye baby aint no use
The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth
Dont need your lies I got nothing to prove
The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth
Gods little babys got nothing to shoot
The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth
Get your kicks on a different route
Dont hurt ya
Dont hurt ya
The truth dont hurt ya
The truth dont hurt ya
Dont hurt ya dont hurt ya
The truth dont hurt ya
(fade)
song performed by Ian Hunter
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!