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One lawsuit begets another.

Latin proverbs
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Ser-en-dip-i-ty

he
begets poetry
begets interest
begets poets
begets poetry
begets respect
begets inspiration
begets poetry
begets hope
begets them/they/she
begets poetry
begets love
begets this

2005

poem by Jeffrey SpahrSummers
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Honesty Begets Honesty

Honesty begets honesty
It is equivocatingly disparaging
Because honesty is an esoteric riddle
And a riddle begets a riddle
When you think it is inequitable
That life begets death
And not the pulp of life,
And death begets life
When you appealed for death
It is because they are one and similar
The equivocal correlation
Is but another juggle of affectation
In supercilious entanglement
So we fumble on the hills
Of the pre-determined sequence
Wretched friends, we are all dazed
About religion and politics,
And stereotypes and chauvinism,
And philosophy and geometry,
In a tête-à-tête with disparity
It is all but the same
From the encrusted veneer
To the profane epicenter,
As with veracity and metaphors
We are reveling gypsies
With pawned feet of stones.
When honesty begets honesty
You will figure for yourself
That life is but a game
And we are all to topple
In the treacle of sincerity
Because honestly,
Nothing begets nothing
Equivalent to an enema for the eczema
The paranoia protracts in an echolalia
Do not hand down your honesty
Because honestly,
You would abscond honesty.

poem by Norman Santos
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Thought Silence

Silence begets thought;
Thought begets action;
Action begets change;
Change begets decay;
Decay begets silence;
Silence begets.......

poem by Mill Field
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No One To Blame

They are going to win back,
Their redundancy.
And discover who the failures,
Really are.

And they will find themselves,
Just as useless...
As their pointless debates.
Although this time with no one to blame.

Greed begets deceit begets stupidity!
And that hopefully begets,
Self examination that begets remorse.
And that begets humility that gets everyone,
Back on course to divorce all foolishness.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Action and reaction

To start is an action.
To stop is too an action.

Pinch the child; it cries.
It cries; you will lull it.
Action begets reaction.
Reaction begets action.

You didn’t feed the child;
It cries; you will feed it.
Non-action begets action.
Action begets reaction.

Actions are in chain,
One leading to another.
25.07.2010

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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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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Banality of Evil

Wordsmiths preach their rhetoric
Wise in their own eyes
They bleach their conscience
Hail the conquering hero
Sincerity oozes from your brow
Peace, peace they say
When there is no peace
The banality of evil

Death has no sides
Indiscriminate murder rains
Killing Children in their sleep
Casualties of war or slaughter
Death rains down, for freedom?
Sowing the seeds of hate,
Chameleon the bully fades
In the banality of evil

Rabid dogs of war unleashed
Hate begets hate
Violence begets violence
Death begets death
Father forgive our indifference
Rolling news feeds opinion
And reinforces division
The banality of evil

Disguised in global extremism
We seek to justify, the bullet
And the bomb, indifferent
Blind to the fact
Hellfire falls from the skies
Killing children
In the name of freedom
the banality of evil

Divide to rule, and establish
Global government
A breath away, smiling
The snake strikes
Ism’s depose Justice
The alliance of liars lie
Shake hands with the devil
welcome the banality of evil

poem by Adrian Wait
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Stimulus Response.....

when you feel that you are pushed to the edge
and there is no more possible space for patience

what kind of language would you like me to speak?
what mode of courtesy do you expect?

blame me not for the foul language, the curse and damnation
that i bombard you every minute of your day

forgive me but i am just giving you what i think you deserve.
you violence begets my violence, you ill wind begets my storms.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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But More Of Less Than Even

Violence begets violence.
There is not a podium delivered speech,
That will end atrocities!
Those easily flattered,
Are quick to hoodwink.
And drained of birthright resources.
Tricking the witless into believing...
A substandard way of life is envied.
And every ounce of demented common sense
Shown
Will restore things back to normal,
Whenever we all agree what that is!
And violence begets violence,
By getting nothing...
But more,
Of less than even that's left to deny.
And squander like vagrants...
Making homes for maggots!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Evil is good

My hatred for one begets pity for the other.
My hatred for one fetches love for the other.
My hatred for one begets surrender to the other.
My hatred is evil that balances with good.
21.03.2007

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Question and answer

A question begets a question
Or an answer that begets questions.
Questions are infinite.
Answers are infinite.
Both alternate till man lives
Effect from cause conceives cause.
25.06.2012

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Psalms

I
I seem to be
Sundered from Thee,
Thou Harmony of all creation.
Am I disowned
For talents loaned
And useless hid in vain probation?
Now powerless,
In weariness,
Now in despair a beggar humble
For help, for cheer,
A voice, an ear,
To hear and guide, while on I stumble.
God, let me be.
Of use to Thee!
If vain my purpose and my powers,
Then sinks from sight
My star,-and night
Henceforth my steps enfolding lowers.
Then break and bind
My ravaged mind
The terrors dread of doubt and anguish.
I know the pack,
I drove them back;-
Only to-day does courage languish.
Oh, come now, peace!
Come faith's increase,
That life's strong chain shall ever bind me!
That not in vain
I strive and strain
Myself to seek until I find me!

II
Honor the springtide life ever adorning,
That all things has made!
Things smallest have some resurrectional morning,
The forms alone fade.
Life begets life,
Potencies higher surprise.
Kind begets kind,
Heedless of time as it flies.
Worlds pass away and arise.

Nothing so small but there's something still smaller,
No one can see.
Nothing so great but there's something still greater
Beyond it can be.
Worms in the earth-
Mountains to make they essay.

[...] Read more

poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Observation Says It

Those who say,
They've stopped what they've done...
To spend more time with their families.
Need to be heard...
To begin the flowing of deception.
Many have a need to hear themselves,
Dancing through the bushes.

Give me eye contact on this one please!

How important was the family in the first place,
That one has had an option...
Whether to spend that time or not?

Time is made for...
Waste.
Procrastination.
Sleaze and drive by stops,
To silent cravings.
Shop.
And strolls through malls to wish.

When people are full of themselves,
Like this...
They make all kinds of excuses.
And the ones most creative,
Come from those knee deep in ego!
That's the way 'observation' says it goes.

After years of having other priorities,
No one is going to use guilt of doing what they want...
To satisfy anything the think they can,
For me!
Not after years of having other priorities.
Not here!
Not...
IF I am on their agenda.
And that had been established...
When times 'then' were fresh and exciting.

When people meet and say things sweet...
Doesn't it seem they've become stuck together,
With glue?
Until appetites change,
For a taste of something new.

Comeon...
None of this is rocket science!

Nonsense begets nonsense begets more of it!

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Something Inside

If one is misunderstanding,
The connection between...
Passion,
Sacrifice and discipline.
Loyalty and devotion...
And the love of life,
To experience what it takes...
Being fortunate to witness,
The unfolding of happiness...
Through trials and tribulations?

Something...
Inside of their minds,
Does not accept!

And to survive defeating obstacles,
With heartaches to shake?
Someone delusional lives in wait,
Procrastinating in needless self debate...
For someone else,
To deliver to them their expectations.

Something...
Inside of their minds,
Does not accept!

And...
That had already been done,
An expectation!
When they were gifted with birth!
Just like everyone else...
That has come to feel the rays of Sun.
And this is an occurrence that has happened,
With or without their acknowledgement!

Something...
Inside of their minds,
Does not accept!

Yet,
Hopefully...
One day this all connects!

Turbulence,
Begets turbulence...
Begets no peace felt,
To be from one released!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It Should Be The Kindness That Counts

i like it here
where kindness is put like a basket
full of fruits
where you pick one and taste
one and say
this fruit is sweet, and juicy and luscious

and then not to be outdone
you put some red & white roses
beside a basket and some
daffodils and colored daisies
and i say
oh! how beautiful have the fruits
become
because of the flowers!

i like it here
on friendly air
and sunny skies and singing birds

it is here
where kindness begets kindness
where love begets love
where everyone braces for the race of happiness

and never
violence.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Task: Book V. -- The Winter Morning Walk

‘Tis morning; and the sun, with ruddy orb
Ascending, fires the horizon; while the clouds,
That crowd away before the driving wind,
More ardent as the disk emerges more,
Resemble most some city in a blaze,
Seen through the leafless wood. His slanting ray
Slides ineffectual down the snowy vale,
And, tinging all with his own rosy hue,
From every herb and every spiry blade
Stretches a length of shadow o’er the field.
Mine, spindling into longitude immense,
In spite of gravity, and sage remark
That I myself am but a fleeting shade,
Provokes me to a smile. With eye askance
I view the muscular proportion’d limb
Transform’d to a lean shank. The shapeless pair
As they design’d to mock me, at my side
Take step for step; and as I near approach
The cottage, walk along the plaster’d wall,
Preposterous sight! the legs without the man.
The verdure of the plain lies buried deep
Beneath the dazzling deluge; and the bents
And coarser grass, upspearing o’er the rest,
Of late unsightly and unseen, now shine
Conspicuous, and in bright apparel clad,
And fledged with icy feathers, nod superb.
The cattle mourn in corners, where the fence
Screens them, and seem half petrified to sleep
In unrecumbent sadness. There they wait
Their wonted fodder; not like hungering man,
Fretful if unsupplied; but silent, meek,
And patient of the slow-paced swain’s delay.
He from the stack carves out the accustom’d load,
Deep plunging, and again deep plunging oft,
His broad keen knife into the solid mass:
Smooth as a wall the upright remnant stands,
With such undeviating and even force
He severs it away: no needless care,
Lest storms should overset the leaning pile
Deciduous, or its own unbalanced weight.
Forth goes the woodman, leaving unconcern’d
The cheerful haunts of man; to wield the axe
And drive the wedge in yonder forest drear,
From morn to eve his solitary task.
Shaggy, and lean, and shrewd, with pointed ears
And tail cropp’d short, half lurcher and half cur,
His dog attends him. Close behind his heel
Now creeps he slow; and now, with many a frisk
Wide scampering, snatches up the driften snow
With ivory teeth, or ploughs it with his snout;

[...] Read more

poem by William Cowper
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Supernatural Songs

I
Ribb at the Tomb of Baile and Aillinn
BECAUSE you have found me in the pitch-dark night
With open book you ask me what I do.
Mark and digest my tale, carry it afar
To those that never saw this tonsured head
Nor heard this voice that ninety years have cracked.
Of Baile and Aillinn you need not speak,
All know their tale, all know what leaf and twig,
What juncture of the apple and the yew,
Surmount their bones; but speak what none ha've
heard.
The miracle that gave them such a death
Transfigured to pure substance what had once
Been bone and sinew; when such bodies join
There is no touching here, nor touching there,
Nor straining joy, but whole is joined to whole;
For the intercourse of angels is a light
Where for its moment both seem lost, consumed.
Here in the pitch-dark atmosphere above
The trembling of the apple and the yew,
Here on the anniversary of their death,
The anniversary of their first embrace,
Those lovers, purified by tragedy,
Hurry into each other's arms; these eyes,
By water, herb and solitary prayer
Made aquiline, are open to that light.
Though somewhat broken by the leaves, that light
Lies in a circle on the grass; therein
I turn the pages of my holy book.
II
Ribb denounces Patrick
An abstract Greek absurdity has crazed the man --
Recall that masculine Trinity. Man, woman, child (a
daughter or a son),
That's how all natural or supernatural stories run.
Natural and supernatural with the self-same ring are
wed.
As man, as beast, as an ephemeral fly begets, Godhead
begets Godhead,
For things below are copies, the Great Smaragdine
Tablet said.
Yet all must copy copies, all increase their kind;
When the conflagration of their passion sinks, damped
by the body or the mind,
That juggling nature mounts, her coil in their em-
braces twined.
The mirror-scaled serpent is multiplicity,
But all that run in couples, on earth, in flood or air,
share God that is but three,

[...] Read more

poem by William Butler Yeats
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I was never ruined but twice: once when I lost a lawsuit, and once when I won one.

quote by Voltaire
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May you have a lawsuit in which you know you are in the right

Gypsy proverbs
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