Politeness is organized indifference.
quote by Paul Valery
Added by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Not Into Charity
I'm.Not.The.One...
You wanna bait,
2-fake-a-chase.
NotmeNotme, no!
I'm.Not.The.One...
2-sit-and-beg...
4-a-taste...laced!
NotmeNotme, no!
I'm.Not one,
2-patiently-pace...
Or-wait-in-a-car!
Not for a metermaid I'm gonna pay!
NotmeNotme, no!
I'm not into charity, baby.
Or into organized liars...
Looking for a shot of Myers' Rum.
Not into charity, baby.
Or into organized liars...
Looking for a shot of Myers' Rum.
Un uh...no!
That's not what I'm here living for!
Oh! Oh! ...un uh...no!
That's not what I'm here living for!
Oh! Oh! ...un uh...no!
I'm not into charity, baby.
Or into organized liars...
Looking for a shot of Myers' Rum.
Not into charity, baby.
Naw!
Or into organized liars...
Looking for a shot of Myers' Rum.
Oh! Oh! ...un uh...no!
Oh! Oh! ...un uh...no!
I say ahhh,
Oh! Oh! ...un uh...no!
Not into charity, baby.
Naw!
I say ahhh,
Oh! Oh! ...un uh...no!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Indifference
Indifference is a blatant unkindness,
Far worse than anger and hatred.
With indifference you can get away
From victims, their anguish and miseries.
With indifference you can be well safe
From interruptions to your work and joy.
Neighbours are of no consequence
Nor are their lives meaningful.
Anger is creative; it brings changes.
Hatred is creative; it brings effects.
Indifference is not no-intrusion.
Indifference is destructive and inhuman.
06.10.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of beauty is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, but indifference between life and death.
quote by Elie Wiesel
Added by Simona Enache
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They've Chosen To Be Winners
Picking up those pieces from a running done.
Now taking time when before they gave none.
Less they find offensive too.
With fresh sentiments meant,
They've improved.
Sticking to a purpose with a focused aimed
With minds more open.
And those attitudes changed.
A new day dawning has to them been sent.
To send defensive motives flushed,
With their fluxing minds now rinsed.
And...
They've chosen to be winners!
With those sentiments meant.
Winners.
With those sentiments meant.
Winners.
With those sentiments meant.
To leave behind their indifference.
They have chosen to be winners.
With those sentiments meant.
Winners.
With those sentiments meant.
They're winners.
With those sentiments meant.
To leave behind their indifference.
Picking up those pieces from a running done.
Now taking time when before they gave none.
Less they find offensive too.
With fresh sentiments meant they've improved.
And...
They've chosen to be winners!
With those sentiments meant.
Winners.
With those sentiments meant.
They're winners.
With those sentiments meant.
To leave behind their indifference.
They are winners.
With those sentiments meant.
Winners.
With those sentiments meant.
They're winners.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Our findings with reference to organized crime was that organized crime as an entity didn't participate in the assassination of the president. However, we were unable to preclude the possibility of individual members of organized crime having participated.
quote by Louis Stokes
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hadda Been Playing On The Jukebox
Written by allen ginsberg, performed by rage against the machine
It had to be flashin like the daily double
It had to be playin on tv
It had to be loud mouthed on the comedy hour
It had to be announced over loud speakers
The cia and mafia are in cahoots
It had to be said in old ladies language
It had to be said in american headlines
Kennedy stretched and smiled and got double crossed by lowlife goons and agents
Rich bankers with criminal connections
Dope pushers in cia working with dope pushers from cuba working with a big time
Syndicate from tampa, florida
And it had to be said with a big mouth
It had to be moaned over factory foghorns
It had to be chattered on car radio news broadcasts
It had to be screamed in the kitchen
It had to be yelled in the basement where uncles were fighting
It had to be howled on the streets by newsboys to bus conductors
It had to be foghorned into new york harbor
It had to echo onto hard hats
It had to turn up the volume in university ballrooms
It had to be written in library books, footnoted
It had to be in the headlines of the times and the mind
It had to be barked on tv
It had to be heard in alleys through ballroom doors
It had to be played on wire services
It had to be bells ringing
Comedians stopped dead in the middle of a joke in las vegas
It had to be fbi chief j. edgar hoover and frank costello syndicate
Mouthpiece meeting in central park, new york weekends,
Reported time magazine
It had to be the mafia and the cia together starting war on cuba,
Bay of pigs and poison assassination headlines
It had to be dope cops in the mafia
Who sold all their heroin in america
It had to be the fbi and organized crime working together
In cahoots against the commies
It had to be ringing on multinational cash registers
World-wide laundry for organized criminal money
It had to be the cia and the mafia and the fbi together
They were bigger than nixon
And they were bigger that war
It had to be a large room full of murder
It had to be a mounted ass- a solid mass of rage
A red hot pen
A scream in the back of the throat
It had to be a kid that can breathe
It had to be in rockefellers mouth
It had to be central intelligence, the family, allofthis, the agency mafia
It had to be organized crime
[...] Read more
song performed by Rage Against The Machine
Added by Lucian Velea
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Had To Be Playin On The Jukebox
It had to be flashin like the daily double
It had to be playin on tv
It had to be loud mouthed on the comedy hour
It had to be announced over loud speakers
The cia and mafia are in cahoots
It had to be said in old ladies language
It had to be said in american headlines
Kennedy stretched and smiled and got
Double crossed by lowlife goons and agents
Rich bankers with criminal connections
Dope pushers in cia working with dope pushers
From cuba working with a big time
Syndicate from tampa, florida
And it had to be said with a big mouth
It had to be moaned over factory foghorns
It had to be chattered on car radio news broadcasts
It had to be screamed in the kitchen
It had to be yelled in the basement where uncles were fighting
It had to be howled on the streets by newsboys to bus conductors
It had to be foghorned into new york harbor
It had to echo onto hard hats
It had to turn up the volume in university ballrooms
It had to be written in library books, footnoted
It had to be in the headlines of the times and the mind
It had to be barked on tv
It had to be heard in alleys through ballroom doors
It had to be played on wire services
It had to be bells ringing
Comedians stopped dead in the middle of a joke in las vegas
It had to be fbi chief j. edgar hoover and frank costello syndicate
Mouthpiece meeting in central park, new york weekends,
Reported time magazine
It had to be the mafia and the cia together starting war on cuba,
Bay of pigs and poison assassination headlines
It had to be dope cops in the mafia
Who sold all their heroin in america
It had to be the fbi and organized crime working together
In cahoots against the commies
It had to be ringing on multinational cash registers
World-wide laundry for organized criminal money
It had to be the cia and the mafia and the fbi together
They were bigger than nixon
And they were bigger that war
It had to be a large room full of murder
It had to be a mounted ass a solid mass of rage
A red hot pen
A scream in the back of the throat
It had to be a kid that can breathe
It had to be in rockefellers mouth
It had to be central intelligence, the family, all of this, the agency mafia
[...] Read more
song performed by Rage Against The Machine
Added by Lucian Velea
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Feud’s Fruit
Seeds of hatred are grown in fertile soil.
Seeds planting sowing hatred are
ethnically religiously politically
grown in fever festering fertile soil.
Stand against mine
I’ll burn thee.
If I can break spine.
I’ll take thine.
Down cinder sown strewn path.
Burn down ash acid rains.
Corpse covering thrown quick lime
coat ribs struck reef beef
broken battered bones.
Upon rent spent uprooted life.
Wasting mortal potential plundered.
Fruitful future essence erased.
Better to turn anger never unleashed
an unstruck cheek...
Isolationist policies unsullied safeguard
wash supposed lily white white-house hands.
Escalate erroneous pacifist indifferent.
Condemnation contagious
concentration camps
seal abnegated intervention undertaken.
Justice is never retaliatory.
Blind animosity swordsmanship.
State organized well organized
vicious killing machines flavour savour.
Maniac midsummer’s nightmare.
With staunch sweet sickly sway
stomach spewing smell. Putrid tortured
decaying, broken body parted parts.
Recurrent shameful mosaic; imitates millenniums of slaughter
continues to plague; scattered provinces peoples
countries ideologies demon; spurned across time unabated.
Emotions are animated feelings; experienced victim first hand
horror is state institutionalized; barbaric bred blood letting.
Each fermented act premeditated; calculated brutally enacted
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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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)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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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
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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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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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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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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New Year's Eve
normally i'd be french-twisting my hair and
selecting the right earrings to wear it's a special
evening for most normally i'd be proposing a
toast but not this year because i'm here the
party's all around me you're there indifference
has found me i know it's not in fashion wearing
heartache on your sleeve but i'm here and
you're there so who cares what i wear on new
year's eve normally i'd be knee-deep in
champagne i'd kick my heels up until neighbors
complain it's a glamorous evening for most
normally i'd be upstaging the host but not this
year because i'm here the party's all around me
you're there indifference has found me i know i
should have dressed up but i just can't make
believe now i'm here and you're there so who
cares what i wear on new year's eve if you're
flirting with some other girl tonight i'm not flirting
with some other guy i keep thinking how last year
at midnight you blew me away with the resolution
that you made i'm here the party's all around
me you're there indifference has found me and
tonight before the ball drops i'll grab my coat
and leave i'm here and you're there so who
cares what i wear on new year's eve
song performed by Nina Gordon from Tonight And The Rest Of My Life
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Touchables
Speaking of which, what is your choice
Your conversation will suffice
I feel the need thats known to all
Better use it up before the levels fall
You can take me back to the primal drive
You can carry on until we arrive
Hypnotised inside
Now Im not young and youre not old
Id rather purchase than be sold
Crazed friends so bold
Its not easy to conceal
When youre so touchable
People will hide indifference
Just to be touchable
They still emit split second screams
When they are touchable
Under the surface just for kicks
Sincerely touchable
You say its okay, but what do I feel
Guilt, compassion, or achilles heel
Little feet march down grey matter hill
Then panic occurs, no seeds to spill
Whats the matter now
Please look up and speak
Your spirits wilting and your flesh is weak
Eight days a week
I cant imagine whatll happen now
I wonder when and I wonder how
The end will come
Its not easy to conceal
When youre so touchable
People will hide indifference
Just to be touchable
Its not easy to conceal
When youre so touchable
People will hide indifference
Just to be touchable
They still emit split second screams
When they are touchable
Under the surface just for kicks
Sincerely touchable
The final answer to all our fears
Abrupt conclusion to all our years
Still touchable but no one hears
They carry on hypnotised inside
song performed by Human League
Added by Lucian Velea
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Defending This Diminishes Quick
Indifference is a global threat.
Too busy sipping is a global threat.
And finding the time to wine and dine...
And complaining about neighbors,
In gossip is a crime.
Indifference is a global threat.
Too busy sipping is a global threat.
And finding the time to wine and dine...
And complaining about neighbors,
In gossip...
Is a crime.
And people who do nothing but sit on stoops...
With a hoop all day that's hollered,
Is crude and rude.
And children overseeing this,
Think these attitudes done...
Are cool to copy too.
Romancing what they do is sick.
And defending this diminishes quick.
Especially in the doing of it...
Is considered and respected,
As nobody's business!
Indifference is a global threat.
Too busy sipping is a global threat.
And finding the time to wine and dine...
And complaining about neighbors,
In gossip...
Is a crime.
And children overseeing this,
Think these attitudes done...
Are cool to copy too.
And showing them the opposite...
Will get the rolling of eyes,
And frowning lips.
Romancing what they do is sick.
And defending this diminishes quick.
Especially in the doing of it...
Is considered and respected,
As nobody's business!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Cog in the machine
I'm a cog in the machine
A machine fuelled
By indifference and greed
Going nowhere
But moving the whole
I turn as I'm told
I'm young but already old
I don't question-I do
Must conform
Be a part of this block
That only starts
And never stops
Without going forward
Serving my sentence:
Life inside a clock
Time is running out…
Tic-Toc
Tic-Toc
I'm a cog in the machine
Spinning on my axis
Riveted on the axle
Of a psychotic vision
I fit the mould
My life already sold
Part of the mechanical dream
That isn't my own
Surrounded but alone
In the midst of a mindless flock
No sentience
In a world
Without conscience
Time is running out…
Tic-Toc
Tic-Toc
I'm a cog in the machine
Spinning on my axis
Going nowhere
But moving the whole
Destined to be worn
Since the day I was born
Knowing that what I am
Isn't greater than the whole
Where Proximity
Has no intimacy
[...] Read more
poem by Ronberge
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Avec ses vêtements ondoyants et nacrés (With Waving Opalescense In Her Gown)
Avec ses vêtements ondoyants et nacrés,
Même quand elle marche on croirait qu'elle danse,
Comme ces longs serpents que les jongleurs sacrés
Au bout de leurs bâtons agitent en cadence.
Comme le sable morne et l'azur des déserts,
Insensibles tous deux à l'humaine souffrance
Comme les longs réseaux de la houle des mers
Elle se développe avec indifférence.
Ses yeux polis sont faits de minéraux charmants,
Et dans cette nature étrange et symbolique
Où l'ange inviolé se mêle au sphinx antique,
Où tout n'est qu'or, acier, lumière et diamants,
Resplendit à jamais, comme un astre inutile,
La froide majesté de la femme stérile.
With Her Pearly, Undulating Dresses
With her pearly, undulating dresses,
Even when she's walking, she seems to be dancing
Like those long snakes which the holy fakirs
Set swaying in cadence on the end of their staffs.
Like the dull sand and the blue of deserts,
Both of them unfeeling toward human suffering,
Like the long web of the ocean's billows,
She unfurls herself with unconcern.
Her glossy eyes are made of charming minerals
And in that nature, symbolic and strange,
Where pure angel is united with ancient sphinx,
Where everything is gold, steel, light and diamonds,
There glitters forever, like a useless star,
The frigid majesty of the sterile woman.
— Translated by William Aggeler
With Waving Opalescence in Her Gown
With waving opalescence in her gown,
Even when she walks along, you think she's dancing.
Like those long snakes which charmers, while entrancing,
Wave with their wands, in cadence, up and down.
Like the sad sands of deserts and their skies,
By human sufferings untouched and free,
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Science is organized knowledge. Wisdom is organized life.
classic quote by Immanuel Kant
Added by Lucian Velea
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