It's all about humanity, humility, and integrity.
quote by Debra Wilson
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Diminishing Of Integrity
A diminishing of integrity,
Now gone.
A diminishing of equality,
Now gone.
And...
A quality of life once wished,
To value and exist to admit...
Is,
A deficit of dreams,
That seem to demean...
With no purpose or meaning.
A diminishing of integrity,
Now gone.
A diminishing of equality,
Now gone.
With a deficit of dreams,
That seem to demean...
With no purpose or meaning.
A diminishing of integrity,
Now gone.
With a deficit of dreams,
That seem to demean...
With no purpose or meaning.
A diminishing of integrity,
Now gone.
And seems to demean,
With no purpose or meaning.
A diminishing of integrity,
Now gone.
With no purpose or meaning.
A diminishing of integrity,
Now gone.
A diminishing of integrity,
Now gone.
A diminishing of integrity,
Now gone.
Now gone.
Now gone.
A diminishing of integrity,
Now gone.
Gone!
Gone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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)
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Women IV. a prise poem for women
Life without life it's not life
Almost every one will remember
Day and night is cycle of life
Life on its own is not matured
I reiterate well spoken words
Hence its admiral, the day i recognize the significant role of women
Some women can bless the day indeed
with their smiles
with their Assimilate of culture admiral
with high concentration of moral fiber
These are the women of integrity
I talk nothing else but
Women like Nthabiseng Mthethwa
Women like Mapaseka Dlamini
Women like Sebolelo Mokoena
Women like Elsie Moganedi
Look around they are there
To reconstitute norms and Values.
I call them women of integrity
As Harley barley, there are honorable women
Full of high concentration of moral fiber
They adhere to walk the walks
And talk the talks; they are extraordinary in every aspect
Women like Delsile Hlophe
Women like Nonhlanhla Ndlovu
Women like Ellah Ngomane
Women like Whitey Mahlangu
Chronically they remain transparent
I call them honorable women of integrity
Fair remain fair as long as it's fair
There are extraordinary women
They are living in their time
And they are in time with their integrity
They deserve honor as they live it
Perfectionism is not enough
They remain constant and consistent
Women like Mapule Tshabalala
Women like Sara Mahlangu
Women like Selina Madihlaba
They are extraordinary women they deserve their Honor
I fore one applaud them for inherent of their heredity
There are women who are making difference
Printing their footprints
[...] Read more
poem by Jacques Sprenkie Mateya
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A Man Of A Thousand Faces
(music: marillion lyrics: john helmer)
Im the man of a thousand faces
A little piece of me in every part I take
I hold the tape for a thousand races
A different point of view in every speech I make
Cut me a piece of my divided soul
Cry me a river, call it rock and roll
Speak to a leader with the voice of command
And when I talk to God I know hell understand
I speak to machines with the voice of humanity
Ill speak to the wise with the voice of insanity
Im the man of a thousand faces
A little piece of me in every part I take
I hold the tape for a thousand races
A different point of view in every speech I make
Cut me a piece of my divided soul
Cry me a river, call it rock and roll
Give me an attitude and watch me make it lie
Pass me a microphone
I need to testify
Well I speak to machines with the voice of humanity
Speak to the wise with the voice of insanity
Speak to the present in the past and future tense
Speak to a slave with the voice of obedience
Im the man of a thousand ages
You see my face in the stones of the parthenon
You hear my song in the babble of babylon
Im the man of a thousand riches
Be my guest at the feast of satyricon
You spend the money that my logos printed on
Well Ill speak to machines with the voice of humanity
Speak to the wise with the voice of insanity
Speak to the present in the past and future tense
Speak to a slave with the voice of obedience
I stole a fire but it burned up much too soon
I took a leap and I landed on the moon
Look at my life and it looks like cnn
You see something once yknow its gonna come around again
Well Ill speak to machines with the voice of humanity
Speak to the wise with the voice of insanity
Speak to a woman with the fatal charm of a snake
Forgive like a giver and account for all I take
Yes, I speak to machines with the voice of humanity
Speak to the wise with the voice of insanity
Speak like a leader with the voice of power and command
And when I talk to God I know hell understand
Cause Im the man of a thousand faces
Yes Im the man of a thousand faces
I stole a fire but it burned up too much too soon
I took a leap and I landed on the moon..
[...] Read more
song performed by Marillion
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The Song Of Mankind
If human fails to help humanity..
Who will think for humanity
With a feeling of li’l sympathy
Won’t be a matter of indignity…? ? ?
If human fails to help humanity
Who will think for humanity
With a feeling of li’l sympathy
Won’t be a matter of indignity…? ? ?
If human fails to help humanity…..
When a man sells his fellow men..
When a man bids for fellow men..
When a man sells his fellow men..
When a man bids for fellow men..
Uncivilized and uncultured….
Won’t be a matter of indignity? ?
If human fails to help humanity
Who will think for humanity
With a feeling of li’l sympathy
Won’t be a matter of indignity…? ? ?
If human fails to help humanity…
Let us stretch our hands..
To help the needy and poor..
With a feeling of warmth
We can make it sure! ! !
Let us stretch our hands..
To help the needy and poor..
With a feeling of warmth
We can make it sure! ! !
If a man cant be a human…
How would a demon become human? ?
If a man cant be a human…
How would a demon become human? ?
And If a demon becomes human
Won’t be a matter of indignity? ?
(Originally composed in Assamese as ‘Manuhe Manuhor Babe’ by Dr. Bhupen Hazarika)
(Set to original tune)
poem by Kamal Jyoti Borah
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The Law That Isn't
The law that isn't!
But should be...
Integrity.
Integrity.
All kinds of crime,
Have been defined.
But...
One escapes from a state of mind.
Integrity!
The law that isn't.
Integrity.
integrity!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Poet's Voice XV
Part One
The power of charity sows deep in my heart, and I reap and gather the wheat in bundles and give them to the hungry.
My soul gives life to the grapevine and I press its bunches and give the juice to the thirsty.
Heaven fills my lamp with oil and I place it at my window to direct the stranger through the dark.
I do all these things because I live in them; and if destiny should tie my hands and prevent me from so doing, then death would be my only desire. For I am a poet, and if I cannot give, I shall refuse to receive.
Humanity rages like a tempest, but I sigh in silence for I know the storm must pass away while a sigh goes to God.
Human kinds cling to earthly things, but I seek ever to embrace the torch of love so it will purify me by its fire and sear inhumanity from my heart.
Substantial things deaden a man without suffering; love awakens him with enlivening pains.
Humans are divided into different clans and tribes, and belong to countries and towns. But I find myself a stranger to all communities and belong to no settlement. The universe is my country and the human family is my tribe.
Men are weak, and it is sad that they divide amongst themselves. The world is narrow and it is unwise to cleave it into kingdoms, empires, and provinces.
Human kinds unite themselves one to destroy the temples of the soul, and they join hands to build edifices for earthly bodies. I stand alone listening to the voice of hope in my deep self saying, "As love enlivens a man's heart with pain, so ignorance teaches him the way of knowledge." Pain and ignorance lead to great joy and knowledge because the Supreme Being has created nothing vain under the sun.
Part Two
I have a yearning for my beautiful country, and I love its people because of their misery. But if my people rose, stimulated by plunder and motivated by what they call "patriotic spirit" to murder, and invaded my neighbor's country, then upon the committing of any human atrocity I would hate my people and my country.
I sing the praise of my birthplace and long to see the home of my children; but if the people in that home refused to shelter and feed the needy wayfarer, I would convert my praise into anger and my longing to forgetfulness. My inner voice would say, "The house that does not comfort the need is worthy of naught by destruction."
I love my native village with some of my love for my country; and I love my country with part of my love for the earth, all of which is my country; and I love the earth will all of myself because it is the haven of humanity, the manifest spirit of God.
Humanity is the spirit of the Supreme Being on earth, and that humanity is standing amidst ruins, hiding its nakedness behind tattered rags, shedding tears upon hollow cheeks, and calling for its children with pitiful voice. But the children are busy singing their clan's anthem; they are busy sharpening the swords and cannot hear the cry of their mothers.
Humanity appeals to its people but they listen not. Were one to listen, and console a mother by wiping her tears, other would say, "He is weak, affected by sentiment."
Humanity is the spirit of the Supreme Being on earth, and that Supreme Being preaches love and good-will. But the people ridicule such teachings. The Nazarene Jesus listened, and crucifixion was his lot; Socrates heard the voice and followed it, and he too fell victim in body. The followers of The Nazarene and Socrates are the followers of Deity, and since people will not kill them, they deride them, saying, "Ridicule is more bitter than killing."
Jerusalem could not kill The Nazarene, nor Athens Socrates; they are living yet and shall live eternally. Ridicule cannot triumph over the followers of Deity. They live and grow forever.
Part Three
Thou art my brother because you are a human, and we both are sons of one Holy Spirit; we are equal and made of the same earth.
You are here as my companion along the path of life, and my aid in understanding the meaning of hidden Truth. You are a human, and, that fact sufficing, I love you as a brother. You may speak of me as you choose, for Tomorrow shall take you away and will use your talk as evidence for his judgment, and you shall receive justice.
[...] Read more
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Paradise Bars No Race Embrace Humanity
even when life low ebbs
muddied exhausted drained
by a flu wonder awaits
in words soft still spoken
universal life chime spoken
haunting in stillness carried
on a breeze sparkling across
winds of time grace gift
of incredible verse may await
on line posted by a friend
who sings causes close embedded
in mine own heart soul that must
ever sing for all life embodied
upon this time tortured planet
earth that must bear witness
to divine angelic and beast
holocaust in nature of conflicted
global civilization humanity
then when tired weary cast
down from burden of voice
to ghost souls who cannot
voice injustices speak crimes
committed against their humanity
rises up sings clear voice
of a poet friend who shares
this burden life distilled chosen
carry a torch aflame in memory
hope to lives lost lives we yet
may save quiet listen to voice
of Eric Cockrell as ‘Sounds
Of The Earth' plead your soul
with conscience birthed immortal
breath breathed into humanity
knowing well concepts noble
uphold righteousness denounce evil
embrace bless all humanity
incredibly beautiful hymns
celebrating pride strength
in nature before the contrasted
turn in life cities civilizations
are written now await readers
who will read wisdom's words
who will transcend sing songs
gift blessing each unique portion
celebrating diversity in humanity
who will denounce crime of greed
excess hoarding precious life blood
of humanities victims hope stripped
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Book the Second
Thou hearest the Nightingale begin the Song of Spring.
The Lark sitting upon his earthly bed, just as the morn
Apears, listens silent; then springing from the waving Corn-field loud
He leads the Choir of Day! trill, thrill, thrill, trill,
Mounting upon the wings of light into the great Expanse,
Reechoing against the lovely blue & shining heavenly Shell.
His little throat labours with inspiration; every feather
On throat & breast & wings vibrates with the effluence Divine.
All Nature listens silent to him, & the awful Sun
Stands still upon the Mountain looking on this little Bird
With eyes of soft humility & wonder, love & awe.
Then loud from their green covert all the Birds begin their Song:
The Thrush, the Linnet & the Goldfinch, Robin & the Wren
Awake the Sun from his sweet reverie upon the Mountain;
The Nightingale again assays his song, & thro’ the day
And thro’ the night warbles luxuriant, every Bird of Song
Attending his loud harmony with admiration & love.
This is a Vision of the lamentation of Beulah over Ololon.
Thou perceivest the Flowers put forth their precious Odours,
And none can tell how form so small a center comes such sweets,
Forgetting that within that Center Eternity expends
Its ever during doors that Og & Anak fiercely guard.
First, e’er the morning breaks, joy opens in the flowery bosoms,
Joy even to tears, which the
Sun rising dries; first the Wild Thyme
And Meadow-sweet, downy & soft, waving among the reeds,
Light springing on the air, lead the sweet Dance: they wake
The Honeysuckle sleeping on the Oak; the flaunting beauty
Revels along upon the wind; the White-thorn, lovely May,
Opens her many lovely eyes; listening the Rose still sleeps –
None dare to wake her; soon she bursts her crimson curtain’d bed
And comes forth in the majesty of beauty; every Flower,
The Pink, the Jessamine, the Wall-flower, the Carnation,
The Jonquil, the mild Lilly opes her heavens; every Tree
And Flower & Herb soon fill the air with an innumberable Dance,
Yet all in order sweet & lovely. Men are sick with Love.
Such is a Vision of the Lamentation of Beulah over Ololon.
And Milton oft sat upon the Couch of Death, & oft conversed
In vision & dream beatific with the Seven Angels of the Presence:
‘I have turned my back upon these Heavens builded on cruelty.
My Spectre still wandering thro’ them follows my Emanation;
He hunts her footsteps thro’ the snow & the wintry hail & rain.
The idiot Reasoner laughs at the Man of Imagination,
And from laughter proceeds o murder by undervaluing calumny.’
Then Hillel, who is Lucifer, replied over the Couch of Death,
And thus the Seven angels instructed him, & thus they converse:
‘We are not Individuals but States, Combinations of Individuals.
We were Angels of the Divine Presence, & were Druids in Annandale,
Compell’d to combine into Form by Satan, the Spectre of Albion,
[...] Read more
poem by William Blake from Milton (1810)
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Satan Absolved
(In the antechamber of Heaven. Satan walks alone. Angels in groups conversing.)
Satan. To--day is the Lord's ``day.'' Once more on His good pleasure
I, the Heresiarch, wait and pace these halls at leisure
Among the Orthodox, the unfallen Sons of God.
How sweet in truth Heaven is, its floors of sandal wood,
Its old--world furniture, its linen long in press,
Its incense, mummeries, flowers, its scent of holiness!
Each house has its own smell. The smell of Heaven to me
Intoxicates and haunts,--and hurts. Who would not be
God's liveried servant here, the slave of His behest,
Rather than reign outside? I like good things the best,
Fair things, things innocent; and gladly, if He willed,
Would enter His Saints' kingdom--even as a little child.
[Laughs. I have come to make my peace, to crave a full amaun,
Peace, pardon, reconcilement, truce to our daggers--drawn,
Which have so long distraught the fair wise Universe,
An end to my rebellion and the mortal curse
Of always evil--doing. He will mayhap agree
I was less wholly wrong about Humanity
The day I dared to warn His wisdom of that flaw.
It was at least the truth, the whole truth, I foresaw
When He must needs create that simian ``in His own
Image and likeness.'' Faugh! the unseemly carrion!
I claim a new revision and with proofs in hand,
No Job now in my path to foil me and withstand.
Oh, I will serve Him well!
[Certain Angels approach. But who are these that come
With their grieved faces pale and eyes of martyrdom?
Not our good Sons of God? They stop, gesticulate,
Argue apart, some weep,--weep, here within Heaven's gate!
Sob almost in God's sight! ay, real salt human tears,
Such as no Spirit wept these thrice three thousand years.
The last shed were my own, that night of reprobation
When I unsheathed my sword and headed the lost nation.
Since then not one of them has spoken above his breath
Or whispered in these courts one word of life or death
Displeasing to the Lord. No Seraph of them all,
Save I this day each year, has dared to cross Heaven's hall
And give voice to ill news, an unwelcome truth to Him.
Not Michael's self hath dared, prince of the Seraphim.
Yet all now wail aloud.--What ails ye, brethren? Speak!
Are ye too in rebellion? Angels. Satan, no. But weak
With our long earthly toil, the unthankful care of Man.
Satan. Ye have in truth good cause.
Angels. And we would know God's plan,
His true thought for the world, the wherefore and the why
Of His long patience mocked, His name in jeopardy.
[...] Read more
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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The Door Of Humility
ENGLAND
We lead the blind by voice and hand,
And not by light they cannot see;
We are not framed to understand
The How and Why of such as He;
But natured only to rejoice
At every sound or sign of hope,
And, guided by the still small voice,
In patience through the darkness grope;
Until our finer sense expands,
And we exchange for holier sight
The earthly help of voice and hands,
And in His light behold the Light.
I
Let there be Light! The self-same Power
That out of formless dark and void
Endued with life's mysterious dower
Planet, and star, and asteroid;
That moved upon the waters' face,
And, breathing on them His intent,
Divided, and assigned their place
To, ocean, air, and firmament;
That bade the land appear, and bring
Forth herb and leaf, both fruit and flower,
Cattle that graze, and birds that sing,
Ordained the sunshine and the shower;
That, moulding man and woman, breathed
In them an active soul at birth
In His own image, and bequeathed
To them dominion over Earth;
That, by whatever is, decreed
His Will and Word shall be obeyed,
From loftiest star to lowliest seed;-
The worm and me He also made.
And when, for nuptials of the Spring
With Summer, on the vestal thorn
The bridal veil hung flowering,
A cry was heard, and I was born.
II
[...] Read more
poem by Alfred Austin
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Harmonic Creed
the one who knows less
knows more of humility,
the other who knows more
knows less.
the one
applies humility.
the other applies
what humility there is
in respect of
the greater humility of
the one.
poem by Douglas Scotney
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Orfeo
Orfeo shone.
He shone as music shines.
His shining, not the beauty of his radiant body;
it was the shining beauty of his humility.
And his humility – sometimes like gold,
sometimes like purest, deepest Maryblue -
the colour where the sky meets with infinity,
meets with eternity.
His humility, like hers, drew all things good:
and as you walked with him, all things were good:
the mountains, trees, and rocks and stones –
all things that do not move and cannot smile,
sang music to the heart, which smiled;
all moving things were drawn to him:
the wildest and most murderous beasts,
and beasts that look like men, or men like beasts;
some like vegetables that move…
all came to him, rubbed their heads against his legs,
licked his hands (were there the scars of wounds?) :
licked his feet (there too, the scars?) :
it was his fragrance that they recognised:
in the memory of these wildest beasts
deep in ancestral bones, the memory
of Adam’s fragrance, when he named each beast.
That fragrance is humility: that draws
the music of all things in heaven and earth:
draws heavenly space, and mountain air,
and fire of Sun itself, and water sparkling
as it springs from rocks;
the fragrance of fresh-turned, rich earth;
Orfeo shines.
he shines – as music shines.
*
{ from the treatise on the humble man
by Isaac of Nineveh, c.620-680 AD/CE }
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Prosperity to humanity
Prosperity, prosperity
Prosperity to humanity
I brought to you
Love and solidarity
Peace and harmony
Kings go to war
And humanity fall
But i brought prosperity to humanity
So why then should you curse me
Instead of blessing me
I need you to love me
For it is prosperity
I brought to humanity
It power and glory to humanity
Accountability and transparency
A higher levity
Prosperity, prosperity
Prosperity to humanity
poem by Matt Ancient
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The Murder Of Humanity
Once there lived two friends,
human and humanity.
human was loving and caring,
while humanity spread peace and brotherhood.
under their friendship tree,
everyone was happy and merry.
in the same world lived Hate and Greed, full of sinister.
very different from all the other.
who were always jealous of human and humanity,
and they tried hard to part the friends
and throw them away in different ends.
the did succeed,
in the heart of human they planted hate-seed.
soon the seed started to rear,
and human was left with no love and care.
it turned furious towards humanity.
all their friendship woes turned into enmity.
hate and greed infected human one after the other.
and made human to commit the murder.
end of peace was marked with the murder of humanity,
in some lost corner is the grave of humanity,
now the world knows only hate, greed and enmity.
poem by Arfa Iris
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The Secret (Roswell 1947)
On a warm summer day, I glanced at the sky,
On July 8th,1947, I saw a circle-like object a high,
Intent to search our world, the unidentified flying object,
A so-called encounter against humanity, the search project,
The object was shot by national security due to fright,
The object burned to bits before the dawning of night,
It landed in the desert in New Mexico, Roswell 1947,
But were the intent made for evil? it could’ve came from heaven,
The closed minds of humanity, justified by force,
Instead of letting nature and fate take it’s course,
On July 8th 1947, in Roswell New Mexico, I still remember,
The broken pieces that lay in the sand glowing from embers,
Humanity scared of chaos, confusion and disease,
Humanity, the naïve, that uses violence rather than perceive,
I still remember, the metallic pieces with the pink light code,
But forever government hiding what really happened so nobody will know,
Money the greed, that steals the knowledge of an event surreal,
Never will the world see the sky under steel,
Hidden tapes, and confidential info to keep for themselves,
Info humanity that would want to experience from ourselves,
Humanity has a right to know what really occurred,
Only I can spread what really happened, a true story preferred,
I still remember, when the sky was split by that bright beam,
The opening of the skies with neon seams,
Perceived as a loss of control, or a crash to the earth,
Perceived as a natural disaster in nature rather than mirth,
But it was a sight to see! Only can we imagine what the secret is worth,
It was then July 8th,1947, that the sky was a pattern of girth,
As it flew in a curve like motion, a pattern of its own,
This flying object that flies from the unknown,
But what makes Roswell 1947 different than any other event,
Why is the incident in Roswell 1947 publicity bent?
But I can still remember looking into those black eyes,
I can still remember the sensation I felt as the creature slowly died,
I felt a sense of sorrow for the black eyed creature, empathy,
A creature that proved no bad intentions, I felt sympathy,
A creature with a fairly large head, a small body, and black eyes,
The same creature that was a pilot of the UFO that split the sky,
Forever, must you really know what happened in Roswell,
But never will you see what really occurred,
But maybe again we’ll experience an event when the sky dispearse.
poem by Kurt Kacich
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For You..
Courage and integrity are wondrous things to see
In your eyes I see them both looking back at me
Courage and integrity before were simply words
Vowels and consonants, sounds that I have heard,
Visions from old battlefields, heroes standing tall,
Yet now I see them in your eyes in writing very small.
Courage and integrity at last I understand
The beauty of the meaning behind the open hand.
Courage and integrity are wondrous things to see
One day my love I hope you see them looking back at thee.
Craig Norris.
poem by Craig Norris
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Shameless
(tennant/lowe)
-------------
(ooh ah ah ooh ah ah ooh ah ooh) [hello]
(ooh ah ah ooh ah ah ooh ah ooh)
(ooh ah ah ooh ah ah ooh ah ooh)
(ooh ah ah ooh ah ah ooh ah ooh) [dahhhling - mmwah!]
[how dare you? do you know who I am? ]
[you look fabulous! - mmwah!]
I know what you think
Its clear as mud in your eyes
Were the plastic poseurs and prostitutes
Youve obviously come to despise
But you dont know nothing
Youre not hot enough to matter
You dont understand its the glamorous life
A dream that no one can shatter
Were shameless
We will do anything
To get our fifteen minutes of fame
We have no integrity
Were ready to crawl
To obtain celebrity
Well do anything at all
Im ambitious
Believe me, Im going to be big
Im a slave to glamour
Applause and clamour
My makeup, my wardrobe, my wigs
Dont call me pathetic
Im harder than youll ever guess
Relentlessly tough, for when the going gets rough
The tough get their picture in the press
Were shameless
We will do anything
To get our fifteen minutes of fame
We have no integrity
Were ready to crawl
To obtain celebrity
Well do anything at all
(anything, anything, anything at all)
(well do anything, anything, anything at all)
(well do anything, anything, anything at all)
(well do anything, anything, anything at all)
[its going perfectly alright]
[how dare you? do you know who I am? ]
[its an absolute disgrace]
Tell me you love me
Admit it, youre really impressed
Would it not amuse you
For me to seduce you
[...] Read more
song performed by Pet Shop Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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No Emotional Investment Made
No need to apologize.
You have left no integrity here.
And there has been no emotional investment made.
Not one to make your absence made clear.
No need to apologize.
You have left no integrity here.
There is nothing felt or I have witnessed...
That makes an apology something worthy to hear,
Again from your lips.
It's like this...
Excused exaggerations colorized by alibis,
Do not fly well in this atmosphere you wish to change!
For purposes to cement a meaningless relationship.
The only thing you have deposited,
Is superficiality.
And nothing of that I have embraced can you claim.
It's like this...
No need to apologize.
You have left no integrity here.
And there has been no emotional investment made.
Not one to make your absence made clear.
No need to apologize.
You have left no integrity here.
There is nothing felt or I have witnessed...
That makes an apology something worthy to hear,
Again from your lips to recite to capture empathy.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Everlasting Gospel
The vision of Christ that thou dost see
Is my vision’s greatest enemy.
Thine has a great hook nose like thine;
Mine has a snub nose like to mine.
Thine is the Friend of all Mankind;
Mine speaks in parables to the blind.
Thine loves the same world that mine hates;
Thy heaven doors are my hell gates.
Socrates taught what Meletus
Loath’d as a nation’s bitterest curse,
And Caiaphas was in his own mind
A benefactor to mankind.
Both read the Bible day and night,
But thou read’st black where I read white.
Was Jesus gentle, or did He
Give any marks of gentility?
When twelve years old He ran away,
And left His parents in dismay.
When after three days’ sorrow found,
Loud as Sinai’s trumpet-sound:
‘No earthly parents I confess—
My Heavenly Father’s business!
Ye understand not what I say,
And, angry, force Me to obey.
Obedience is a duty then,
And favour gains with God and men.’
John from the wilderness loud cried;
Satan gloried in his pride.
‘Come,’ said Satan, ‘come away,
I’ll soon see if you’ll obey!
John for disobedience bled,
But you can turn the stones to bread.
God’s high king and God’s high priest
Shall plant their glories in your breast,
If Caiaphas you will obey,
If Herod you with bloody prey
Feed with the sacrifice, and be
Obedient, fall down, worship me.’
Thunders and lightnings broke around,
And Jesus’ voice in thunders’ sound:
‘Thus I seize the spiritual prey.
Ye smiters with disease, make way.
I come your King and God to seize,
Is God a smiter with disease?’
The God of this world rag’d in vain:
He bound old Satan in His chain,
And, bursting forth, His furious ire
Became a chariot of fire.
Throughout the land He took His course,
[...] Read more
poem by William Blake
Added by Poetry Lover
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