Maintain democracy or go to dictatorship: that is what is at stake in these elections.
quote by Mario Vargas Llosa
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Related quotes
Monstrare
This house a dictatorship
Learn to shut your mouth and follow directions
Or receive punishments
For your treason
You get under my skin
And leave your marks
Like footprints in the snow
Except your boots are laced with a virus
'Cause you're making me sick
This house is a dictatorship
Follow the rules and shut your mouth
Or hear the mouth of the one
That controls you with force
Stand before the almighty and choke on your words
And tremble in fear as she screams, shouts
Yells and roars
Out of frustration
This house is a dictatorship
'Cause my voice is silenced,
My actions are limited,
My thoughts are undermined
Listen to yourself and
Listen to no one else
Because you're the 'boss'
Of this world
Or just the boss of this house
This house is a dictatorship
'Cause I'm chained to the fence
Like some wild animal
That can't be trusted
I wonder if you really trust me
Let alone understand me
'Cause if you don't,
What's the point of being a good child?
This house is a dictatorship
'Cause your word is always right
And mine is always wrong
Even though you're never right about everything
Nearing eighteen with the mind of an adult
[...] Read more
poem by Ronnell Evans
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The Cross-Roads
A bullet through his heart at dawn. On the table a letter signed
with a woman's name. A wind that goes howling round the house,
and weeping as in shame. Cold November dawn peeping through the windows,
cold dawn creeping over the floor, creeping up his cold legs,
creeping over his cold body, creeping across his cold face.
A glaze of thin yellow sunlight on the staring eyes. Wind howling
through bent branches. A wind which never dies down. Howling, wailing.
The gazing eyes glitter in the sunlight. The lids are frozen open
and the eyes glitter.
The thudding of a pick on hard earth. A spade grinding and crunching.
Overhead, branches writhing, winding, interlacing, unwinding, scattering;
tortured twinings, tossings, creakings. Wind flinging branches apart,
drawing them together, whispering and whining among them. A waning,
lobsided moon cutting through black clouds. A stream of pebbles and earth
and the empty spade gleams clear in the moonlight, then is rammed again
into the black earth. Tramping of feet. Men and horses.
Squeaking of wheels.
'Whoa! Ready, Jim?'
'All ready.'
Something falls, settles, is still. Suicides have no coffin.
'Give us the stake, Jim. Now.'
Pound! Pound!
'He'll never walk. Nailed to the ground.'
An ash stick pierces his heart, if it buds the roots will hold him.
He is a part of the earth now, clay to clay. Overhead the branches sway,
and writhe, and twist in the wind. He'll never walk with a bullet
in his heart, and an ash stick nailing him to the cold, black ground.
Six months he lay still. Six months. And the water welled up in his body,
and soft blue spots chequered it. He lay still, for the ash stick
held him in place. Six months! Then her face came out of a mist of green.
Pink and white and frail like Dresden china, lilies-of-the-valley
at her breast, puce-coloured silk sheening about her. Under the young
green leaves, the horse at a foot-pace, the high yellow wheels of the chaise
scarcely turning, her face, rippling like grain a-blowing,
under her puce-coloured bonnet; and burning beside her, flaming within
his correct blue coat and brass buttons, is someone. What has dimmed the sun?
The horse steps on a rolling stone; a wind in the branches makes a moan.
The little leaves tremble and shake, turn and quake, over and over,
tearing their stems. There is a shower of young leaves,
[...] Read more
poem by Amy Lowell
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Bush At Helm
Turkey’s Touristic Problem
Kurds coming over the hill!
Bush’s sovereign
non-interventionist, Foreign
Policy! Mountain
grave sides agore to fill!
Arise with Saddam’s Hitler admired
imitated stylised televised word!
Scapegoats falsely labelled executed
insurgents reduced rankle not dead!
In flight fled fear fed!
Refugee refuge
safe sanitary zones?
Symbolic symptom
(flat-lining) Bush’s!
International problem
ignored (New World Order) !
A few baby refugee corpses
small accountant price to pay!
(collateral damage civilian)
For history sought new world order!
Is this true political point scoring?
Sentiment stripped to bare bone?
Baboon floating his own balloon?
Democracy must accountable mean
no elected esteemed humane official?
Is above pan-morality credibility Check!
Democracy must not be policy tarnished!
Diverted treated acted easily white washed!
Non-accountable an expendable indifference!
An estimated? millions of Kurds!
Fled into neighbouring countries
during the Bush crisis in 1991!
An estimated four to five
million persecuted Iraqi Kurds!
Under Saddam’s dictatorship!
Were forbidden to celebrate
their ethnic culture! Or organize
representative political activities!
Oppressed Iraqi Kurds
were under constant invasive state
censure! Surveillance!
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Natures Democracy
Democracy is at America's heart
You lead while others follow
And your citizens bear the right to be free
With freedom comes responsibility
And democracy applies
To all who inhabit this earth?
Within this premise Kyoto speaks
That sound which disturbs
The majority of a wider democracy
You deny their global solution
In favour of the American way
But there are whispers in the wind
For nature too believes in democracy
And nature will make the agreement for you
For she is omnipotent to unleash her democracy
You can deny your future, but your ghosts will deny you
This way of life feeds a changing climate
And nature gathers her strength
Slowly rising to give you her answer
The Hurricane and tornado
The desert and the flood
Her democracy to maintain
A balance within the hemispheres
Your Freedom is a noble thing
For freedom lies in every beast.
But only humans carry the burden of democracy
This is the price we pay for freedom
But freedom is worthless
When all you grow is destroyed
When all you build is washed away
When all that you hold dear is taken without mercy
Look over the fence America
Look beyond your borders
Look at your planet
And look at this baby born
For it may never grow up to remember you
poem by Steven Cooke
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Democracy v Liberty
The fathers of democracy.
The ancient Greek philosophers
were dependent on slavery.
Which leaves me in a quandary.
How can it be democracy
to have such inequality?
I think democracy should be
a universal human right.
Though it is not quite obviously.
An ideal to aspire to.
Which one day might be possible.
The time has come now to review.
What we mean by democracy.
If everybody has their say.
It might well lead to anarchy.
When we elect a government.
The will of the majority
is what they’re meant to represent..
But it seems they rarely do.
This cannot be democracy.
the many are ruled by the few.
Who gain control quite legally
because their wealth allows them to
encouraged by our apathy.
The systems open to abuse
The people have the power to
insist on change; which we don’t use.
We vote or not just as we choose.
A facet of democracy.
I would be hesitant to lose.
It seems to me democracy
is something which we can’t achieve
and still retain our liberty.
There is no way that I can see
which will be fair to everyone.
I must admit despondently.
A partial democracy
is what we have and will retain
[...] Read more
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Every Heartbeat
Hear me speak whats on my mind
Let me give this testimony
Reaffirm that you will find
That you are my one and only.
No exception to this rule
Im simple but Im no fool
Ive got a witness happy to say
Every hour, every day.
Every heartbeat bears your name
Loud and clear they stake my claim
My red blood runs true blue
And every heartbeat belongs to you.
Classic case of boy meets girl
Moving in the same direction
Youre not asking for the world
Im not asking for perfection.
Just a love thats well designed
For passing the test of time
Im here to tell you
Im here to stay
Every hour, every day.
Every heartbeat bears your name
Loud and clear they stake my claim
Ask anyone and theyll tell you its true
Every heartbeat belongs to you.
Every heartbeat bears your name
Loud and clear they stake my claim, yeah
My red blood runs true blue
And every heartbeat belongs to you.
Oh, oh, oh, oh.
Yeah sure maybe Im on the edge
But I love you baby and like I said
Im here to tell you
Im here to stay
Every hour, every day.
Every heartbeat bears your name
Loud and clear they stake my claim
Ask anyone and theyll tell you its true
Every heartbeat belongs to you.
Every heartbeat bears your name (every)
Loud and clear they stake my claim, yeah
My red blood runs true blue
And every heartbeat belongs to you.
Every heartbeat bears your name (every)
Loud and clear they stake my claim, yeah
(every heartbeat)
And every heartbeat belongs to you.
Every heartbeat bears your name
Loud and clear they stake my claim
Ask anyone and theyll tell you its true
[...] Read more
song performed by Amy Grant
Added by Lucian Velea
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Orlando Furioso Canto 20
ARGUMENT
Guido and his from that foul haunt retire,
While all Astolpho chases with his horn,
Who to all quarters of the town sets fire,
Then roving singly round the world is borne.
Marphisa, for Gabrina's cause, in ire
Puts upon young Zerbino scathe and scorn,
And makes him guardian of Gabrina fell,
From whom he first learns news of Isabel.
I
Great fears the women of antiquity
In arms and hallowed arts as well have done,
And of their worthy works the memory
And lustre through this ample world has shone.
Praised is Camilla, with Harpalice,
For the fair course which they in battle run.
Corinna and Sappho, famous for their lore,
Shine two illustrious light, to set no more.
II
Women have reached the pinnacle of glory,
In every art by them professed, well seen;
And whosoever turns the leaf of story,
Finds record of them, neither dim nor mean.
The evil influence will be transitory,
If long deprived of such the world had been;
And envious men, and those that never knew
Their worth, have haply hid their honours due.
III
To me it plainly seems, in this our age
Of women such is the celebrity,
That it may furnish matter to the page,
Whence this dispersed to future years shall be;
And you, ye evil tongues which foully rage,
Be tied to your eternal infamy,
And women's praises so resplendent show,
They shall, by much, Marphisa's worth outgo.
IV
To her returning yet again; the dame
To him who showed to her such courteous lore,
Refused not to disclose her martial name,
Since he agreed to tell the style be bore.
She quickly satisfied the warrior's claim;
To learn his title she desired so sore.
'I am Marphisa,' the virago cried:
All else was known, as bruited far and wide.
[...] Read more
poem by Ludovico Ariosto
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A little hand of Democracy, Pres. Corazon C. Aquino
entangle by fire, sweeten by dirt and dust, the unwavering
force and stamina, come to forward the little angel of
democracy, the cry that cradle the past of bravery and
heroism of the fatherland
land of the free, home of the brave, beautiful island
of the pacific; the Philippine republic, welcome the Blooming
meadow of the vast horizon of freedom land where faith lays
the fervent hope of liberty amongst men
as the furnish of incredible fire, harness the beautiful
gold, the birth of the little god, showered her charisma of
faith and patience, pondering the challenge of inferno in the
midst of wondering world of change
the cocoons, of witnessing the tyranny of democracy tore
down the humble beginning of Edsa revolution, lasting its
pure resistance of strength amongst people; surfing the dawn
of new beginning of Philippine democracy, as the echelon of
existence and destiny of the nation
the unwavering faith lives to last in the dungeon of
dictatorship has come to end and the verge of democracy stand
in the clock of an endless bastion of hope of liberty raised to
lift high the dove of unity, mesmerize each dropp of freedom
conquering the Filipino people to love, even life comes no
return, as it lurks the root of survival, kindling the sprout of
seed of happiness in every smile in the heart of men
weeping the faith of a good fight leaving no return to a little
child to hold in thy mother's hope to stand, the fervent widow
of hope live the abundant of charisma to change the course of
Philippine history into the venue of the world scenery
you'll the faith that hold on to live amongst us, you’re the
hope that stand even unto death, your the winner whose heart
steadfastly live in every heart; for a mother who wishes to be
free lives with us until, death comes no more.......
Viva! Pres, Cory, Viva Philippines, Viva Democracy.....
' a tribute to a Pilipino President whose heart lives amongst
the Pilipino people of the Republic of the Philippines '
poem by Antonio Liao
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In democracy
In democracy
Writ of the peole runs.
In democracy
Repesentatives should not
Called leaders.
In democracy
Representatives must not
Act as er whim.
In democracy
Representative should not
Show dictatorial style.
In democracy
Representative should not have
Arrogance of power.
In democracy
Treachery and
Ruthless decisions
Not good.
In democracy
The representatives
Should be sensitives
Towards sensitive issues.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Stake Stake Stake
Stake, stake, stake,
on the green felt fabric thrown, -
the croupiers, awake,
the players, weary, grown.
O well for the novice who
can cash in lucky play,
O ill for the gambler too,
rash not to end his stay
as the golden chips go on
back to stack within the till, -
but O for the touch of a vanish’d hand,
and woe for the crushing bill!
Stake, stake, stake,
while a camera all can see,
records both banks which break,
and counts accounts’ red plea!
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Doomd Canadian Democracy Aug 11th,2012
DOOMED CANADIAN DEMOCRACY Aug 11th,2012
BY
JAMES BREDIN
Democracy depends on elections to make it work,
Elections depend on participation - not a few dorks,
Established politicians depend on their party to get them there,
Reason why less than half Canadians get involved in this affair.
So there's something wrong and we should sit down and figure out,
Maybe mandatory voting would establish some clout,
Maybe voting for senators and High Court judges would help,
But would appointees to the courts and Parole Boards scream and yelp?
Because Parole Boards tend to let many criminals out of jail,
Maybe murderers, rapists or those who couldn't make bail,
Turning our already soft justice system into complete junk,
While our so-called Charter democracy smells like a skunk.
Aug 11th,2012
poem by James Bredin
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Doomed Democracy July 14th, 2012
DOOMED DEMOCRACY
BY
JAMES BREDIN
Democracy depends on elections to make it work,
Elections depend on participation - not those who lurk,
Established politicians depend on their party to get there,
Less than half Canadians get involved in this affair.
So something is wrong and we should sit down and figure out,
Maybe mandatory voting would establish some clout,
Maybe voting for senators and High Court judges would help,
But appointees and all Parole Boards might scream and yelp?
And Parole Boards tend to let criminals out of jail,
Maybe murderers, rapists or those who couldn't make bail,
Turning our already soft justice system into junk,
While our so called Charter democracy smells like a skunk.
July 14th,2012
poem by James Bredin
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The Hind And The Panther, A Poem In Three Parts : Part II.
“Dame,” said the Panther, “times are mended well,
Since late among the Philistines you fell.
The toils were pitched, a spacious tract of ground
With expert huntsmen was encompassed round;
The inclosure narrowed; the sagacious power
Of hounds and death drew nearer every hour.
'Tis true, the younger lion 'scaped the snare,
But all your priestly calves lay struggling there,
As sacrifices on their altars laid;
While you, their careful mother, wisely fled,
Not trusting destiny to save your head.
For, whate'er promises you have applied
To your unfailing Church, the surer side
Is four fair legs in danger to provide;
And whate'er tales of Peter's chair you tell,
Yet, saving reverence of the miracle,
The better luck was yours to 'scape so well.”
“As I remember,” said the sober Hind,
“Those toils were for your own dear self designed,
As well as me; and with the selfsame throw,
To catch the quarry and the vermin too,—
Forgive the slanderous tongues that called you so.
Howe'er you take it now, the common cry
Then ran you down for your rank loyalty.
Besides, in Popery they thought you nurst,
As evil tongues will ever speak the worst,
Because some forms, and ceremonies some
You kept, and stood in the main question dumb.
Dumb you were born indeed; but, thinking long,
The test, it seems, at last has loosed your tongue:
And to explain what your forefathers meant,
By real presence in the sacrament,
After long fencing pushed against a wall,
Your salvo comes, that he's not there at all:
There changed your faith, and what may change may fall.
Who can believe what varies every day,
Nor ever was, nor will be at a stay?”
“Tortures may force the tongue untruths to tell,
And I ne'er owned myself infallible,”
Replied the Panther: “grant such presence were,
Yet in your sense I never owned it there.
A real virtue we by faith receive,
And that we in the sacrament believe.”
“Then,” said the Hind, “as you the matter state,
Not only Jesuits can equivocate;
For real, as you now the word expound,
From solid substance dwindles to a sound.
Methinks, an Æsop's fable you repeat;
You know who took the shadow for the meat:
Your Church's substance thus you change at will,
[...] Read more
poem by John Dryden
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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto II
THE ARGUMENT
The Saints engage in fierce Contests
About their Carnal interests;
To share their sacrilegious Preys,
According to their Rates of Grace;
Their various Frenzies to reform,
When Cromwel left them in a Storm
Till, in th' Effigy of Rumps, the Rabble
Burns all their Grandees of the Cabal.
THE learned write, an insect breeze
Is but a mungrel prince of bees,
That falls before a storm on cows,
And stings the founders of his house;
From whose corrupted flesh that breed
Of vermin did at first proceed.
So e're the storm of war broke out,
Religion spawn'd a various rout
Of petulant Capricious sects,
The maggots of corrupted texts,
That first run all religion down,
And after ev'ry swarm its own.
For as the Persian Magi once
Upon their mothers got their sons,
That were incapable t' enjoy
That empire any other way;
So PRESBYTER begot the other
Upon the good old Cause, his mother,
Then bore then like the Devil's dam,
Whose son and husband are the same.
And yet no nat'ral tie of blood
Nor int'rest for the common good
Cou'd, when their profits interfer'd,
Get quarter for each other's beard.
For when they thriv'd, they never fadg'd,
But only by the ears engag'd:
Like dogs that snarl about a bone,
And play together when they've none,
As by their truest characters,
Their constant actions, plainly appears.
Rebellion now began, for lack
Of zeal and plunders to grow slack;
The Cause and covenant to lessen,
And Providence to b' out of season:
For now there was no more to purchase
O' th' King's Revenue, and the Churches,
But all divided, shar'd, and gone,
That us'd to urge the Brethren on;
Which forc'd the stubborn'st for the Cause,
[...] Read more
poem by Samuel Butler
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The Only Black Sheep
The black sheep sits among us.
His eyes' glisten as he waits undivided.
His ghost knows he's already here.
It whispers, 'of despair, with a chill in the air.'
Anger, begets this fear monger.
Control, and dominance.
Nothing less then absolute dictatorship, for this tyrant.
A rule with a iron fist.
The money's is his.
Multiple women with polygamous desires.
A united military is his wanted transgression.
Put down all, who threat this rule.
Destroy,
Hurt,
Rob,
Enslave,
Hate.
Humiliate,
Devastate
Those under the empires flag.
Burn It.
It's evil.
It means nothing no more.
Who are we but mere pawns?
And a new dawn is coming.
It will sit to waste human life at the face of greed and gluttony.
Those who want to buy something and don't need.
And the people who want make money off everything.
Including the air you breath.
Yeah paying for the air you breath.
Those rich companies get taxes off green house gases.
Who created them and got us hooked in the first place.
Which doesn't make any sense.
Why can't we just do something good for doing it?
Why does their have to be that catch?
The black sheep sits among us.
His eyes' glisten as he waits undivided.
His ghost knows he's already here.
It whispers, 'of despair, with a chill in the air.'
Anger, begets this fear monger.
Control, and dominance.
Nothing less then absolute dictatorship, for this tyrant.
A rule with a iron fist.
The money's is his.
Multiple women with polygamous desires.
A united military is his wanted transgression.
Put down all, who threat this rule.
Destroy,
[...] Read more
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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The Only Black Sheep (Ancient Times)
The black sheep sits among us.
His eyes' glisten as he waits undivided.
His ghost knows he's already here.
It whispers, 'of despair, with a chill in the air.'
Anger, begets this fear monger.
Control, and dominance.
Nothing less then absolute dictatorship, for this tyrant.
A rule with a iron fist.
The money's is his.
Multiple women with polygamous desires.
A united military is his wanted transgression.
Put down all, who threat this rule.
Destroy,
Hurt,
Rob,
Enslave,
Hate.
Humiliate,
Devastate
Those under the empires flag.
Burn It.
It's evil.
It means nothing no more.
Who are we but mere pawns?
And a new dawn is coming.
It will sit to waste human life at the face of greed and gluttony.
Those who want to buy something and don't need.
And the people who want make money off everything.
Including the your cattle and sheep.
Taxation without representation.
Those rich horde and sell too those who don't need.
Only one shall stand above all others.
Which doesn't make any sense.
We can't live without paying a price.
Cause life is precious.
It's not just given without consequences.
The black sheep sits among us.
His eyes' glisten as he waits undivided.
His ghost knows he's already here.
It whispers, 'of despair, with a chill in the air.'
Anger, begets this fear monger.
Control, and dominance.
Nothing less then absolute dictatorship, for this tyrant.
A rule with a iron fist.
The money's is his.
Multiple women with polygamous desires.
A united military is his wanted transgression.
Put down all, who threat this rule.
[...] Read more
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Dictatorship, the most extreme form of tyranny, can never lead to social liberation. In Russia, the so-called dictatorship of the proletariat has not led to Socialism, but to the domination of a new bureaucracy over the proletariat and the whole people. … What the Russian autocrats and their supporters fear most is that the success of libertarian Socialism in Spain might prove to their blind followers that the much vaunted "necessity of dictatorship" is nothing but one vast fraud which in Russia has led to the despotism of Stalin and is to serve today in Spain to help the counter-revolution to a victory over the revolution of the workers and the peasants.
quote by Rudolf Rocker
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The difference between a democracy and a dictatorship is that in a democracy you vote first and take orders later; in a dictatorship you don't have to waste your time voting.
quote by Charles Bukowski
Added by Lucian Velea
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Worthy Of
Yeah, Yeah, Yeah
Ohhh, Yeah, Yeah
Girl I find you so amazing
With everyday I learn more about you
The way you work day out and day in
And still find time for us too, yeah
I love the fact that youre there for me when I feel down
No matter what Im going through
Lately Ive been questioning myself
Am I good enough for you?
[CHORUS:]
Am I worthy of?
Am I man enough?
Am I strong enough?
To maintain this love
Youve got me questioning (yeah)
Got me wondering (yeah, yeah)
Could I be that man?
That can keep you happy
I know that therell be times when Ill be miles away
And youll be all alone
I constantly fight my insecurities
When I cant reach you by phone
And, oh, Lord knows that Im only human
So please forgive me if I ask so many silly questions
I know that you truly love me but
Fear has me second-guessing
Am I worthy of?
Am I man enough?
Am I strong enough?
To maintain this love
Youve got me questioning
Got me wondering
Could I be that man?
That can keep you happy
Girl excuse my ways (excuse my ways)
Im not trying to push your love away (your love away)
Its just that sometimes my imagination gets the best of me, yeah
I still love you baby everyday, yeah yeah
Am I worthy of?
Am I man enough?
Am I strong enough?
To maintain this love (to maintain this love)
Youve got me questioning
Got me wondering (you got me thinking about myself)
Could I be that man (am I good enough for you)
That can keep you happy (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Am I worthy of?
Am I man enough?
Am I strong enough? (strong enough, yeah)
[...] Read more
song performed by Justin Timberlake
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Vicar Of Bray
In good King Charles's golden days,
When loyalty no harm meant;
A furious High-Church man I was,
And so I gain'd preferment.
Unto my flock I daily preach'd,
Kings are by God appointed,
And damn'd are those who dare resist,
Or touch the Lord's anointed.
And this is law, I will maintain
Unto my dying day, sir,
That whatsoever king shall reign,
I will be Vicar of Bray, sir!
When Royal James possess'd the crown,
And popery grew in fashion;
The penal law I houted down,
And read the declaration:
The Church of Rome, I found would fit,
Full well my constitution,
And I had been a Jesuit,
But for the Revolution.
And this is law, I will maintain
Unto my dying day, sir,
That whatsoer king shall reign,
I will be Vicar of Bray, sir!
When William our deliverer came,
To heal the nation's grievance,
I turned the cat in pan again,
And swore to him allegiance:
Old principles I did revoke,
Set conscience at a distance,
Passive obedience is a joke,
A jest is non-resistance.
And this is law, I will maintain
Unto my dying day, sir,
That whatsoer king shall reign,
I will be Vicar of Bray, sir!
When glorious Anne became our queen
The Church of England's glory,
Another face of things was seen,
And I became a Tory:
Occasional conformists base,
I damn'd, and moderation,
And thought the Church in danger was,
From such prevarication.
And this is law, I will maintain
Unto my dying day, sir,
That whatsoer king shall reign,
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Americas
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