Politeness, n: The most acceptable hypocrisy.
quote by Ambrose Bierce
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Hypocrisy
Hypocrisy
I wanted to sit and write today-but I did not know what to say.
Then a thought came to me. Why don’t I write about hypocrisy?
The hypocrisy of man leaves you to wonder.
Will this country make another blunder?
Will we continue in this Arab war where we are despised/
Will we choose to live a lie?
They say Americans shed their blood for you and me.
We all know its hypocrisy.
Men in uniform no longer fight the world wars.
People who want to hide what they are Moreover, what they say and do is because of me and you. Our service members and women still use our uniforms with pride
It is something that we can’t deny.
I could see it in my mind-the older politician telling the younger one.
“Let the road take its course” we are the trainers and they are the horse.
They will go where we lead them-that is why we are leaders.
The politicians of all nations should hide their heads in shame.
They search for all that they can gain.
They all try to line their pockets
They’ll pull your eyeballs from their sockets.
Then you cannot see all their hidden hypocrisies.
People will believe for a short period
While it weighs on their mind.
They have to tell the politicians that they will not follow
Like sheep to a slaughter so they could make a quarter.
We must tell them that we are tired as can be-living in hypocrisy.
poem by Louis Rams
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An Alliterative Amorous Answer
Alliterative Love Letter
Adored and angelic Amelia. Accept an ardent and artless amourist’s affections, alleviate an anguished admirer’s alarms, and answer an amorous applicant’s avowed ardour. Ah, Amelia! all appears an awful aspect! Ambition, avarice and arrogance, alas are attractive allurements, and abase an ardent attachement. Appease an aching and affectionate adorer’s alarms, and anon acknowledge affianced Albert’s alliance as agreeable and acceptable.
Anxiously awaiting an affectionate and affirmative answer, accept an ardent admirer’s aching adieu. Always angelic and admirable Amelia’s admiring and affectionate amourist, Albert
Wit and Wisdom 1826
An Alliterative Answer
Artless Amelia Acme’s answer adamantly admonishing artful Albert Acne’s announced amorous ambitions, and assertive advances, actively advocates appropriate alternatives. Also, attesting abhorrent Albert’s attempted abduction, Amelia asks an adequate aureate award. Advance “ amical ” arrangements are altogether abjured.
Adieu Albert!
Abused Amelia, an adorable angel, aghast and askance, acknowledges agile apostate Albert’s apparently avuncular, albeit astonishingly audacious application, and, as alleged affiancement alliances and anticipations are absent, appends an acceptable, accurate answer.
Aggressively accosted, Amelia acts advisedly, asking an acceptably authentic apology affirming all Albert’s avowed affiancement allegations as archetypal authoritarian autocratic attempts at annulling Amelia’s autonomy. Also, Albert’s absolutely alarmingly acquisitive ambitions afford anguish, anxiety, and, afterall, acute anger. All are anathema, as Albert, an adder, assumed angelic approbation after an abject attempt at abrogating and appropriating all Amelia’s assets.
Agamous Albert’s age, adiposity, and abnormally abrasive accents also argued against amorous agglutination. Agamy appeared advisable as Amelia always aspired at attaining an absolute amour, assiduously avoiding ambiguity. Ardent admiration activated Albert’s appetite as Amelia’s allure and accomplishments attracted all-round applause.
Amelia and Albert are at an apogee. Alliance anticipations are antilogical as Amelia’s aplomb and articulateness, and Albert ’s anthropomorphic antics are as antipodes apart as Aphrodite and an anthropoid ape. Acataleptic Albert, Amelia’s antithesis, acting almost as an aggressive animal, abused Amelia’s adolescent acquaintance, Anabelle, an alluring afro actress, - actually auditionning as an aria alto, - adventuring affront abruptly abbreviated.
Albert’s apologists are accomplices aiding and abetting an attack (after anticipating advantages agreed aforehand) .... At Ashcloth Abbey altar agnostic Albert asked Assyriac Abyssinian Archdeacon Ahasuerus and Arabian acolyte Abdul abn Abdulaziz abn Abdullah Abu an aboveboard absolution although Abbott Abraham Allsaints’ anterior abjuration altered all accomodating actions.
Apprehending arrogant acquiline Albert’s arbitrary approach, Amelia appositely acted appropriately, adjusting apparel. Applause and approbation are apropos.
Albert abusively alledges aristocratic alabaster Amelia’s assent - an assumption as absurd as an ass astride an advocate assiduously assembling an ascorbic acid apparatus!
Abstemious Amelia’s abilities attract acclaim - above all admirable administrative aptitudes, artistic aims, analytical assurance, amiability and amenability. Altruistic Amelia amalgamating agreeableness and authority, always assists aliens.
Alcoholic Albert’s abominations abound, as aforementioned as all adults agree, admonishing an aggressive ambiance........Albert apes affability!
Abusive adulation appalls, accelerates aversion and attracts adverse acknowledgements alienating affirmative adhesions. Allegorical accolades, artificially addressed, accumulate absurdities. although amiable acolytes are acceptable additions. Argot argues against acceptance as avid adventurers assume affected accents -, acquiring added artificial accomplishments.
Addressing amoral Albert, and apprehending amorphous arrangements, Amelia advises acrimonious Albert’s accepting any alternative Abigail, Alice and Anabella, as affianced amourette. Auburns are also admired as are armed assegaie’d ashanti, andalousian, algonquin, anabaptist and amerindian amours:
Abigail, Ada, Adrienne, Adriana, Adelaide, Agatha, Aglaë, Alice, Aliette, await Albert,
Aline, Alison, Amy Amanda, Amandine Andrea, Angela, Angelica, Ann, anticipate Albert
Anna, Annabelle, Anne, Annette, Angelina, Annick, Annie, Andrée, Anthea, alleviate Albert
April, Ariane, Ariane, Arlette, Armande, Armelle, Ashley, Astarte, Ava, appreciate Albert
.....And Albert annoys Amelia! - aggravating!
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Canto the Sixteenth
I
The antique Persians taught three useful things,
To draw the bow, to ride, and speak the truth.
This was the mode of Cyrus, best of kings --
A mode adopted since by modern youth.
Bows have they, generally with two strings;
Horses they ride without remorse or ruth;
At speaking truth perhaps they are less clever,
But draw the long bow better now than ever.
II
The cause of this effect, or this defect, --
"For this effect defective comes by cause," --
Is what I have not leisure to inspect;
But this I must say in my own applause,
Of all the Muses that I recollect,
Whate'er may be her follies or her flaws
In some things, mine's beyond all contradiction
The most sincere that ever dealt in fiction.
III
And as she treats all things, and ne'er retreats
From any thing, this epic will contain
A wilderness of the most rare conceits,
Which you might elsewhere hope to find in vain.
'T is true there be some bitters with the sweets,
Yet mix'd so slightly, that you can't complain,
But wonder they so few are, since my tale is
"De rebus cunctis et quibusdam aliis."
IV
But of all truths which she has told, the most
True is that which she is about to tell.
I said it was a story of a ghost --
What then? I only know it so befell.
Have you explored the limits of the coast,
Where all the dwellers of the earth must dwell?
'T is time to strike such puny doubters dumb as
The sceptics who would not believe Columbus.
V
Some people would impose now with authority,
Turpin's or Monmouth Geoffry's Chronicle;
Men whose historical superiority
Is always greatest at a miracle.
But Saint Augustine has the great priority,
Who bids all men believe the impossible,
Because 't is so. Who nibble, scribble, quibble, he
Quiets at once with "quia impossibile."
[...] Read more
poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
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Don Juan: Canto The Sixteenth
The antique Persians taught three useful things,
To draw the bow, to ride, and speak the truth.
This was the mode of Cyrus, best of kings--
A mode adopted since by modern youth.
Bows have they, generally with two strings;
Horses they ride without remorse or ruth;
At speaking truth perhaps they are less clever,
But draw the long bow better now than ever.
The cause of this effect, or this defect,--
'For this effect defective comes by cause,'--
Is what I have not leisure to inspect;
But this I must say in my own applause,
Of all the Muses that I recollect,
Whate'er may be her follies or her flaws
In some things, mine's beyond all contradiction
The most sincere that ever dealt in fiction.
And as she treats all things, and ne'er retreats
From any thing, this epic will contain
A wilderness of the most rare conceits,
Which you might elsewhere hope to find in vain.
'Tis true there be some bitters with the sweets,
Yet mix'd so slightly, that you can't complain,
But wonder they so few are, since my tale is
'De rebus cunctis et quibusdam aliis.'
But of all truths which she has told, the most
True is that which she is about to tell.
I said it was a story of a ghost--
What then? I only know it so befell.
Have you explored the limits of the coast,
Where all the dwellers of the earth must dwell?
'Tis time to strike such puny doubters dumb as
The sceptics who would not believe Columbus.
Some people would impose now with authority,
Turpin's or Monmouth Geoffry's Chronicle;
Men whose historical superiority
Is always greatest at a miracle.
But Saint Augustine has the great priority,
Who bids all men believe the impossible,
Because 'tis so. Who nibble, scribble, quibble, he
Quiets at once with 'quia impossibile.'
And therefore, mortals, cavil not at all;
Believe:--if 'tis improbable you must,
And if it is impossible, you shall:
'Tis always best to take things upon trust.
I do not speak profanely, to recall
[...] Read more
Politeness. The most acceptable hypocrisy.
quote by Ambrose Bierce
Added by Lucian Velea
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A myth about the origin of evil
And satan said:
‘Let there be a lie! ’
And there was a lie.
It hid in the stones
Sliding from above.
And satan said:
‘Let there be hypocrisy! ’
And there was hypocrisy.
It hid in the words
Waiting to speak up.
It covered itself with cobwebs
Spiders to feed.
It hid itself from itself.
And satan said:
‘Let there be poison! ’
And there was poison.
The devils waving their swords
Spilled it from a stormy breath.
It layered on the earth
To run with its currents.
It hid within the blood.
And satan said:
‘Let there be hatred! ’
And there was hatred.
It spilled all around
Like blood that cannot clot.
It walked in tigers’ paws
And hid itself in the end
Under the cold mossy north.
And satan said:
‘Let there be a human! ’
And there was a human.
He hid in the hypocrisy and lie
The poison of hatred fed him like milk.
A pirate wrapped in his sails.
And there was a human
In beasts he hid.
And satan said:
‘Let him think I am not! ’
But it was not the way he said.
There was a lie in the beginning of his word.
Written in 1989 reconstructed in 2012.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Fake People
All the time
I look in your eyes
But what I see
And what you say to me
Are two totally different things
You pretend you put on a façade
I only wish you knew that I'm not
The only one who sees it as odd
Fake people
The things they do are oh so evil
Because of their own insecurities
They try to pass on to you their idiosyncrasies
Thinking they are your friends you let them into your lives
But then they turn around and about you tell nothing but lies
Jealousy is such an ugly thing
Almost as ugly as hypocrisy
Fake people
The things they do are oh so evil
Fake people
Fake people
So now I must ask who are your friends
Are they really what they seem to be
Or are they just trying to hide from you their envy
Do your friends really have your back
Or is it that that's where by them you've been stabbed
I once had a friend
One I thought would be there for me till the end
Then one day my happiness ended and theirs began
And when I needed someone to lean on
Behind me did no one stand
Fake people
The things they do are oh so evil
Because of their own insecurities
They try to pass on to you their idiosyncrasies
Thinking they are your friends you let them into your lives
But then they turn around and about you tell nothing but lies
Jealousy is such an ugly thing
Almost as ugly as hypocrisy
Fake people
The things they do are oh so evil
Fake people
Fake people
Be careful who you let know your business
'Cause in the end
Rumors about you they could be spreadin'
Don't put your trust in people who don't trust you
There's no telling what they're liable to say or do
Grow smarter with each experience
And you'll see true friends
Are the friends who are their with and for you till the end
[...] Read more
poem by Dionne K. Kelly
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Before any empathy is assigned
Those guilty seem to always display,
Their hypocrisy.
I'll repeat that!
Those guilty seem to always display,
Their hypocrisy.
Whenever there is a feeling felt of giving,
It is the disadvantaged 'children' targeted...
To gain the publicized attention.
Cuddled in some donated TV sponsored closeup!
Those beyond the acceptable,
Age...
Of gaining a displaying of charitable grief,
By those feeling a twinge of remorse.
Will have to rely on their poverty,
Hunger and homelessness...
To first become a filmed documentary,
Before any empathy is assigned.
And...
Of course,
The more pathetic the look...
The quicker those filming can get paid!
It is all a charade to use the needy to pocket and run...
Industries that have been created!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Where The Problem Is
There use to be a time,
When people passed off anything...
And found it acceptable.
Today those same people,
Who found anything and everything done acceptable...
Are seeking explanations amongst themselves,
As to why those they have selected to represent them...
Seem less qualified to audition for characters portrayed,
In any nursery rhymes they have ever told to their children.
And...
The ones who are trying to snap them 'into' reality,
Can not say it loud enough...
That everything that has been sweetened to eat,
And given to them to nourish...
Has had damaging effects,
On the maintaining of their mental health.
Yet...
STILL they wish to keep the same story lines told,
But they wish to have the ones telling those nursery rhymes...
To depict the exact images in their minds,
That have never existed.
Although they seek 'anyone' besides those who are truthful,
To deliver the goods.
With a comfort for them that is understood.
There use to be a time,
When people passed off anything...
And found it acceptable.
But these times lived can no longer depend on myths.
People are challenged to be real with themselves.
And that's where the problem is.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Novice Desire, An Essay On Writing
The novice
wanted to write something
strange different inlaid
with the wonder,
of a few of the values
which are important,
but which society
seems to lack
or have forgotten.
Which need remembering
and should be brought
to the for again
for the consideration
and possibly the advancement
of the state of mind.
Drawing from life,
previous experience,
memories, imagination,
and the pursuit
of the elusive idea.
Some writers
seem to know
almost nothing
in real terms
of the reality
of which they wrote.
Their work
lacks depth,
an acceptable degree
of accuracy
sincerity.
Some have settled
for cheap,
commercialized
mass production,
centred
on public interest
subjects
in pursuit
of the quick buck.
Or write within
the acceptable
guide lines
which many editors
dictate
and often demand.
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Psychological Warfare
This above all remember: they will be very brave men,
And you will be facing them. You must not despise them.
I am, as you know, like all true professional soldiers,
A profoundly religious man: the true soldier has to be.
And I therefore believe the war will be over by Easter Monday.
But I must in fairness state that a number of my brother-officers,
No less religious than I, believe it will hold out till Whitsun.
Others, more on the agnostic side (and I do not contemn them)
Fancy the thing will drag on till August Bank Holiday.
Be that as it may, some time in the very near future,
We are to expect Invasion ... and invasion not from the sea.
Vast numbers of troops will be dropped, probably from above,
Superbly equipped, determined and capable; and this above all,
Remember: they will be very brave men, and chosen as such.
You must not, of course, think I am praising them.
But what I have said is basically fundamental
To all I am about to reveal: the more so, since
Those of you that have not seen service overseas—
Which is the case with all of you, as it happens—this is the first time
You will have confronted them. My remarks are aimed
At preparing you for that.
Everyone, by the way, may smoke,
And be as relaxed as you can, like myself.
I shall wander among you as I talk and note your reactions.
Do not be nervous at this: this is a thing, after all,
We are all in together.
I want you to note in your notebooks, under ten separate headings,
The ten points I have to make, remembering always
That any single one of them may save your life. Is everyone ready?
Very well then.
The term, Psychological Warfare
Comes from the ancient Greek: psycho means character
And logical, of course, you all know. We did not have it
In the last conflict, the fourteen-eighteen affair,
Though I myself was through it from start to finish. (That is point one.)
I was, in fact, captured—or rather, I was taken prisoner—
In the Passchendaele show (a name you will all have heard of)
And in our captivity we had a close opportunity
(We were all pretty decently treated. I myself
Was a brigadier at the time: that is point two)
An opportunity I fancy I was the only one to appreciate
Of observing the psychiatry of our enemy
(The word in those days was always psychology,
A less exact description now largely abandoned). And though the subject
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Reed
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Telephone Conversation
Wednesday, January 23,2008
Week 10: Telephone Conversation by Wole Soyinka
Week 10 Dividing lines: Differences in Class, race, Gender and Ideology
Telephone Conversation
by Wole Soyinka
The price seemed reasonable, location
Indifferent. The landlady swore she lived
Off premises. Nothing remained
But self-confession. 'Madam, ' I warned,
'I hate a wasted journey—I am African.'
Silence. Silenced transmission of
Pressurized good-breeding. Voice, when it came,
Lipstick coated, long gold rolled
Cigarette-holder pipped. Caught I was foully.
'HOW DARK? '... I had not misheard... 'ARE YOU LIGHT
OR VERY DARK? ' Button B, Button A.* Stench
Of rancid breath of public hide-and-speak.
Red booth. Red pillar box. Red double-tiered
Omnibus squelching tar. It was real! Shamed
By ill-mannered silence, surrender
Pushed dumbfounded to beg simplification.
Considerate she was, varying the emphasis-
'ARE YOU DARK? OR VERY LIGHT? ' Revelation came.
'You mean-like plain or milk chocolate? '
Her assent was clinical, crushing in its light
Impersonality. Rapidly, wave-length adjusted,
I chose. 'West African sepia'-and as afterthought,
'Down in my passport.' Silence for spectroscopic
Flight of fancy, till truthfulness clanged her accent
Hard on the mouthpiece. 'WHAT'S THAT? ' conceding
'DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS.' 'Like brunette.'
'THAT'S DARK, ISN'T IT? ' 'Not altogether.
Facially, I am brunette, but, madam, you should see
The rest of me. Palm of my hand, soles of my feet
Are a peroxide blond. Friction, caused-
[...] Read more
poem by Tamilarasi Shalu
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Bushido
[Bushido]
1._ Justice
Apply justice, when time is right.
Crooked, unfair actions to denounce,
Be ready to accurately strike.
Before action be wise, on balance.
-
2._ Courage
Courage is virtuous on righteousness,
a sacrifice to unworthiness is odd,
defend correct values with ableness,
admitting mistakes with mind bold.
-
3._ Benevolence
Love, affection, sympathy for another,
combined with an excellence of mind,
highest soul's attributes and character,
are Princely, manly virtues and kind.
-
4._ Politeness
Politeness, courtesy, excellent manners,
abide in a man's soul. But a poor virtue,
when actuated by fear or to elude others.
It must stem Sympathy towards truth.
-
5._ Veracity
Truth is a manly act, falsity dishonors,
lying is a cowardly act and unworthy,
A man's word is enough to guarantee honors,
as veracity is analogous to worthy.
-
6._ Honor
An honorable person acts humbly in manners.
Lack of honor, disrespectfully expands.
Qualities of honor, are the Bushido banners,
and a valid cure to soul's and mind's scars.
-
7._ Loyalty
A man must know to be loyal to his family,
teachers, fellow men, arts and sciences.
Never forget who lifted him to act aptly,
when qualities are applied on issuances.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Politeness
The English and the French were met
Upon the field of future battle;
The foes were formidably set
And waiting for the guns to rattle;
When from the serried ranks of France
The English saw with woeful presage
Under a flaming flag advance
A trumpeter who bore a message.
'Twas from their Marshal, quite polite,
Yet made the English leader shiver.
"We're perched," said he, "upon the height,
While you're exposed beside the river.
We have the vantage, you'll agree,
And your look-out is melancholy;
But being famed for courtesy
We'll let you fire the starting volley."
The English General was moved,
In fact his eyes were almost tearful;
Then he too his politeness proved
By writing back: "We are not fearful.
Our England is too proud to take
The privilege you thrust upon her;
So let your guns in thunder break:
To you, M'sieu, shall be the houour."
Again a note the Marshall sent
By envoy for his battle station:
"Your spirit wins my compliment,
Your courage my appreciation.
Yet you are weak and we are strong,
And though your faith is most inspiring,
Don't let us linger all day long -
Mon General, begin the firing."
"How chivalrous the soul of France."
The English General reflected.
"I hate to take this happy chance,
But I suppose it's what's expected.
Politeness is a platitude
In this fair land of gallant foemen."
So with a heart of gratitude
He primed his guns and cried: "Let's go men!"
The General was puzzled when
No answer came, said he: "What is it?
Why don't they give us hell?" And then
The herald paid another visit.
The Marshall wrote: "to your salute
[...] Read more
poem by Robert William Service
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Canto the Twelfth
I
Of all the barbarous middle ages, that
Which is most barbarous is the middle age
Of man; it is -- I really scarce know what;
But when we hover between fool and sage,
And don't know justly what we would be at --
A period something like a printed page,
Black letter upon foolscap, while our hair
Grows grizzled, and we are not what we were; --
II
Too old for youth, -- too young, at thirty-five,
To herd with boys, or hoard with good threescore, --
I wonder people should be left alive;
But since they are, that epoch is a bore:
Love lingers still, although 't were late to wive;
And as for other love, the illusion's o'er;
And money, that most pure imagination,
Gleams only through the dawn of its creation.
III
O Gold! Why call we misers miserable?
Theirs is the pleasure that can never pall;
Theirs is the best bower anchor, the chain cable
Which holds fast other pleasures great and small.
Ye who but see the saving man at table,
And scorn his temperate board, as none at all,
And wonder how the wealthy can be sparing,
Know not what visions spring from each cheese-paring.
IV
Love or lust makes man sick, and wine much sicker;
Ambition rends, and gaming gains a loss;
But making money, slowly first, then quicker,
And adding still a little through each cross
(Which will come over things), beats love or liquor,
The gamester's counter, or the statesman's dross.
O Gold! I still prefer thee unto paper,
Which makes bank credit like a bank of vapour.
V
Who hold the balance of the world? Who reign
O'er congress, whether royalist or liberal?
Who rouse the shirtless patriots of Spain? [*]
(That make old Europe's journals squeak and gibber all.)
Who keep the world, both old and new, in pain
Or pleasure? Who make politics run glibber all?
The shade of Buonaparte's noble daring? --
Jew Rothschild, and his fellow-Christian, Baring.
[...] Read more
poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Promiscuity
too much too much promiscuity
can drive to insanity
say too much too much insanity
can drive to criminality
say oohooh set me free
oohooh let me be
too much too much promiscuity
can drive to calamity
too much too much hypocrisy
can drive to academy
too much too much morality
can drive to criminality
say oohooh set me free
oohooh let me be
too much too much hypocrisy
can drive to calamity
oohooh set me free
oohooh let me be...
too much too much wiliwili
can drive to big family
too much too much morality
can drive to the flies and bee
song performed by Manu Chao from Proxima EstacIon Esperanza
Added by Lucian Velea
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Canto the First
I
I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one,
Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant,
The age discovers he is not the true one;
Of such as these I should not care to vaunt,
I'll therefore take our ancient friend Don Juan—
We all have seen him, in the pantomime,
Sent to the devil somewhat ere his time.
II
Vernon, the butcher Cumberland, Wolfe, Hawke,
Prince Ferdinand, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe,
Evil and good, have had their tithe of talk,
And fill'd their sign posts then, like Wellesley now;
Each in their turn like Banquo's monarchs stalk,
Followers of fame, "nine farrow" of that sow:
France, too, had Buonaparté and Dumourier
Recorded in the Moniteur and Courier.
III
Barnave, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau,
Petion, Clootz, Danton, Marat, La Fayette,
Were French, and famous people, as we know:
And there were others, scarce forgotten yet,
Joubert, Hoche, Marceau, Lannes, Desaix, Moreau,
With many of the military set,
Exceedingly remarkable at times,
But not at all adapted to my rhymes.
IV
Nelson was once Britannia's god of war,
And still should be so, but the tide is turn'd;
There's no more to be said of Trafalgar,
'T is with our hero quietly inurn'd;
Because the army's grown more popular,
At which the naval people are concern'd;
Besides, the prince is all for the land-service,
Forgetting Duncan, Nelson, Howe, and Jervis.
V
Brave men were living before Agamemnon
And since, exceeding valorous and sage,
A good deal like him too, though quite the same none;
But then they shone not on the poet's page,
And so have been forgotten:—I condemn none,
But can't find any in the present age
Fit for my poem (that is, for my new one);
So, as I said, I'll take my friend Don Juan.
[...] Read more
poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The only vice that cannot be forgiven is hypocrisy. The repentance of a hypocrite is itself hypocrisy.
quote by William Hazlitt
Added by Lucian Velea
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Modern Love
I
By this he knew she wept with waking eyes:
That, at his hand's light quiver by her head,
The strange low sobs that shook their common bed
Were called into her with a sharp surprise,
And strangled mute, like little gaping snakes,
Dreadfully venomous to him. She lay
Stone-still, and the long darkness flowed away
With muffled pulses. Then, as midnight makes
Her giant heart of Memory and Tears
Drink the pale drug of silence, and so beat
Sleep's heavy measure, they from head to feet
Were moveless, looking through their dead black years,
By vain regret scrawled over the blank wall.
Like sculptured effigies they might be seen
Upon their marriage-tomb, the sword between;
Each wishing for the sword that severs all.
II
It ended, and the morrow brought the task.
Her eyes were guilty gates, that let him in
By shutting all too zealous for their sin:
Each sucked a secret, and each wore a mask.
But, oh, the bitter taste her beauty had!
He sickened as at breath of poison-flowers:
A languid humour stole among the hours,
And if their smiles encountered, he went mad,
And raged deep inward, till the light was brown
Before his vision, and the world, forgot,
Looked wicked as some old dull murder-spot.
A star with lurid beams, she seemed to crown
The pit of infamy: and then again
He fainted on his vengefulness, and strove
To ape the magnanimity of love,
And smote himself, a shuddering heap of pain.
III
This was the woman; what now of the man?
But pass him. If he comes beneath a heel,
He shall be crushed until he cannot feel,
Or, being callous, haply till he can.
But he is nothing:- nothing? Only mark
The rich light striking out from her on him!
Ha! what a sense it is when her eyes swim
Across the man she singles, leaving dark
All else! Lord God, who mad'st the thing so fair,
See that I am drawn to her even now!
[...] Read more
poem by George Meredith
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The Naked Truth
I shed my garments of hypocrisy,
i shed my cloaks of hypocrisy,
abroad, i walked naked amongst men,
indoors, i walked naked amongst kinsmen,
yes, all have seen my nakedness and seen my shame,
yes, i have suffered debasement by my inferiors,
henceforth, i stand clothed with my integrity, knowledge and wisdom,
yes, i have been exalted by the knowledge that i stand sovereign amidst men alike,
yea, there can be none like me,
ever again!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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