Citatepedia^®.com

So there is a foreign intelligence purpose for every one of our FISA warrants.

quote by Robert Mueller
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Foreign Lands

You may roam the wide seas over, follow, meet, and cross the sun,
Sail as far as ships can sail, and travel far as trains can run;
You may ride and tramp wherever range or plain or sea expands,
But the crowd has been before you, and you’ll not find ‘Foreign Lands;’
For the Early Days are over,
And no more the white-winged rover
Sinks the gale-worn coast of England bound for bays in Foreign Lands.
Foreign Lands are in the distance dim and dreamlike, faint and far,
Long ago, and over yonder, where our boyhood fancies are,
For the land is by the railway cramped as though with iron bands,
And the steamship and the cable did away with Foreign Lands.
Ah! the days of blue and gold!
When the news was six months old—
But the news was worth the telling in the days of Foreign Lands.

Here we slave the dull years hopeless for the sake of Wool and Wheat
Here the homes of ugly Commerce—niggard farm and haggard street;
Yet our mothers and our fathers won the life the heart demands—
Less than fifty years gone over, we were born in Foreign Lands.

When the gipsies stole the children still, in village tale and song,
And the world was wide to travel, and the roving spirit strong;
When they dreamed of South Sea Islands, summer seas and coral strands—
Then the bravest hearts of England sailed away to Foreign Lands,
‘Fitting foreign’—flood and field—
Half the world and orders sealed—
And the first and best of Europe went to fight in Foreign Lands.

Canvas towers on the ocean—homeward bound and outward bound—
Glint of topsails over islands—splash of anchors in the sound;
Then they landed in the forests, took their strong lives in their hands,
And they fought and toiled and conquered—making homes in Foreign Lands,
Through the cold and through the drought—
Further on and further out—
Winning half the world for England in the wilds of Foreign Lands.

Love and pride of life inspired them when the simple village hearts
Followed Master Will and Harry—gone abroad to ‘furrin parts’
By our townships and our cities, and across the desert sands
Are the graves of those who fought and died for us in Foreign Lands—
Gave their young lives for our sake
(Was it all a grand mistake?)
Sons of Master Will and Harry born abroad in Foreign Lands!

Ah, my girl, our lives are narrow, and in sordid days like these,
I can hate the things that banished ‘Foreign Lands across the seas,’
But with all the world before us, God above us—hearts and hands,
I can sail the seas in fancy far away to Foreign Lands.

poem by Henry Lawson
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

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)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 7

AND thou, O matron of immortal fame,
Here dying, to the shore hast left thy name;
Cajeta still the place is call’d from thee,
The nurse of great Æneas’ infancy.
Here rest thy bones in rich Hesperia’s plains; 5
Thy name (’t is all a ghost can have) remains.
Now, when the prince her fun’ral rites had paid,
He plow’d the Tyrrhene seas with sails display’d.
From land a gentle breeze arose by night,
Serenely shone the stars, the moon was bright, 10
And the sea trembled with her silver light.
Now near the shelves of Circe’s shores they run,
(Circe the rich, the daughter of the Sun,)
A dang’rous coast: the goddess wastes her days
In joyous songs; the rocks resound her lays: 15
In spinning, or the loom, she spends the night,
And cedar brands supply her father’s light.
From hence were heard, rebellowing to the main,
The roars of lions that refuse the chain,
The grunts of bristled boars, and groans of bears, 20
And herds of howling wolves that stun the sailors’ ears.
These from their caverns, at the close of night,
Fill the sad isle with horror and affright.
Darkling they mourn their fate, whom Circe’s pow’r,
(That watch’d the moon and planetary hour,) 25
With words and wicked herbs from humankind
Had alter’d, and in brutal shapes confin’d.
Which monsters lest the Trojans’ pious host
Should bear, or touch upon th’ inchanted coast,
Propitious Neptune steer’d their course by night 30
With rising gales that sped their happy flight.
Supplied with these, they skim the sounding shore,
And hear the swelling surges vainly roar.
Now, when the rosy morn began to rise,
And wav’d her saffron streamer thro’ the skies; 35
When Thetis blush’d in purple not her own,
And from her face the breathing winds were blown,
A sudden silence sate upon the sea,
And sweeping oars, with struggling, urge their way.
The Trojan, from the main, beheld a wood, 40
Which thick with shades and a brown horror stood:
Betwixt the trees the Tiber took his course,
With whirlpools dimpled; and with downward force,
That drove the sand along, he took his way,
And roll’d his yellow billows to the sea. 45
About him, and above, and round the wood,
The birds that haunt the borders of his flood,
That bath’d within, or basked upon his side,
To tuneful songs their narrow throats applied.
The captain gives command; the joyful train 50

[...] Read more

poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

In A Foreign Land

It was a matter of fact that when I paid all my tax
I held my world in the palm of my hand
And all of my debts were causing me to defect
To a land of bananas and sand
So I ran, yes I ran, yes I ran to a foreign land
Here I am, here I am
Here I am in a foreign land
Im so glad we made it
I thought wed never land
I grabbed all my cash
And decided to dash far away
Far away, far away to a foreign land
Here I am, here I am, here I am in a foreign land
Goodbye to all of the rich mans daughters
Goodbye to my debts now Im way cross the water
Far away, far away in a foreign land
Here I am, here I am here I am in a foreign land
La la la la la la
La la la la la la
Please tell my mother and all my ex-lovers
That Ive finally made the grade
Please tell my debtors and the money collectors
That all of my bills will be paid some day
Im away, Im away, far away in a foreign land
Goodbye champagne and caviar set
I wanna slum and drink all the rum I can get
Im away, Im away in a foreign land
Here I am, here I am, here I am in a foreign land
But Im all out of my jack and I cant go back
Im away, far away, far away in a foreign land
La la la la la la
La la la la la la

song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Chaos, Order, Chaos, Beauty And Ugliness...

beauty must a purpose
have, for instance beauty that
gives peace and
harmony to the world,

presumably this world is a world of chaos,
and chaos is wanton
and understood to be messy and
undesirable, makes the mind
to lack the necessary focus

but what is focus for? what is thinking for?
again, you return to purpose
focus must have a purpose
and thinking must have another purpose

but what is the purpose of purpose?
seems that purpose is beauty
and that purpose without beauty is not desirable,

and so on and so forth,
people get so confused, they want order as though order itself is
beauty
as though it is one purpose that we need,

the universe must have an order
a system, every planet orbiting around the sun must have
a purpose
as though they are human beings like us
as though they are us

look at this poem, read it so well,
it has no purpose but to make you think
make you doubt

that perhaps beauty to be beauty must be wanton
and chaotic, which by itself is a reality
and reality is always
beautiful,
it has always a purpose and this is what you think it to be

right now, but is this really so?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Poet Sajid Khan's Background.

Our Background

We have figured out what is wisdom and how it can be created on a mass scale.

Wisdom is the wealth of intelligence and just like wealth, wisdom is
nothing on its own! Just like wealth has to be in something else like
gold, real estate, stocks, bank balance etc. Again wisdom is like a
house. A house is the sum of its parts. A house is nothing without its
building blocks. Similarly wisdom is nothing without/but its building
blocks. The building block of wisdom is selflessness. By creating
selflessness we create wisdom.

We have quantified the mind and now emotions can be measured. We are
founders of Wisdom Day, Pure Happiness Seminars, 'Who am I' seminars,
'Third Eye' seminars. We have developed the idea of 'WisdomLand',
'Brain Power Clubs', 'Shy Power Club' and The Wisdom Express. We even
have wisdom toys.

The world is at a loss of how to solve the economic mess. We have the
answers. The human self runs on two wheels. One is intelligence and
the other is emotional-intelligence/wisdom. For intelligence we have
hundreds of subjects and for emotional-intelligence/wisdom we have
zero subjects. As a result we educate only half our brains. Naturally
the wheel of emotional intelligence is punctured. And every time we
try to fix this education mess we go back to improving intelligence
education. Leaving emotional intelligence as punctured as ever;
resulting in developing imperfect minds and imperfect brains for over
80% of the population.

Michael Gazzaniga the foremost expert on the brain and mind concludes
in his latest best seller, for a call to arms. “Understanding how to
develop a vocabulary for these layered interactions (between the left
and right brain and between brain and mind) , for me, ” he writes,
“constitutes the scientific problem of the century.” This is exactly
the problem we recognized 40 years ago and we have now solved.

We have figured out the difference between brain and mind. The
education mess is due to the fact man has cutting edge education to
educate the mind and has no idea how to educate the brain. In simple
terms one can say that we keep our homes clean; we keep our cars and
our offices spic and span and when it comes to our own brains and
minds we keep them dirty; full of defective memories/knowledge. We
have developed education for cleaning up the brain.

We have invented this whole new wisdom industry that will generate
wisdom education, creation of text books, with exercises and lessons,
training for teachers and parents, and 'pure happiness' counselors
etc., wisdom coaching for adults, groups and countries, toys that
teach wisdom, wisdom computer games, comic books, children stories,
sitcoms, TV talk shows, movies etc.; and Wisdom Theme Parks, Wisdom

[...] Read more

poem by Sajid Khan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Begin the Mending of Unreasoning

There is a purpose behind a reason,
That plots from a reasoning...
Its purpose.

She has been seducing him,
Since the beginning of their childhood.
She practiced technique with her daddy.
And daddy practiced patience and understanding.
She liked that about her daddy.

He was torn between Magic, Shaq and Kobe!
'Yeah, but that Michael will always be the best! '
He was a sportsman!
And she fell asleep in his lap!
Just like she did,
When daddy did that!

He thought he knew what he was getting into.
Until she wanted more of what he could not prove,
He could do.
So he screwed her that night...
And he left not to return.

There is a purpose behind a reason,
That plots from a reasoning...
Its purpose.

It did not take her long to realize,
She paralyzed their love!
She criticized his lovemaking acts.
And reacted as if he was not there at all.
Feelings had been among the missing,
For days...
In the forest of hidden misunderstandings.

With her face towards the wall...
Expecting him to communicate,
'Her' feelings he could not possibly feel!
She did not make them real to him!
She felt hurt!
And he was suppose to know!
Or at least pretended to care?
He snored loudly!

'Could romance be slipping from the booty calls? '
He thought as he was swept with anguish!
Thinking with sincere sentiments...
'She crazy as hell,
If she think I'm gonna try and 'be' Denzel.'

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Welcomed Into the Family of Comprehension

Everything has a reason.
Everything.
With a purpose to ponder.
And a place for that purpose,
To find reason at that time.
Everything has a reason.
Everything,
In a thinking mind!
Any thought adopted...
Is welcomed into the family,
Of comprehension.
And attempts to understand,
Is supported.

Everything has a reason.
Everything.
With a purpose to ponder.
And a place for that purpose,
To find reason at that time.
Everything has a reason.
Everything,
In a thinking mind!
Any thought adopted...
Is welcomed into the family,
Of comprehension.
And attempts to understand,
Is supported.

What hand reaching out to shake,
Does not support that?
What prolonged heartbreak,
Would stay wallowing in sorrow?
To borrow an excuse,
Or a chance not to view agony?
Close up and into a tear stained face.
You should not want that reflecting...
Everywhere,
And in every face you see.
Denial is the most contagious disease!
Everywhere,
And in every face you see.
Denial is the most contagious disease!

No thing is detached,
That keeps an attraction from coming back.
Something is attached to that.
And seriously repeated.

When done,
The meaning of that purpose...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Foreign Affair

Foreign affair
Take a trip in the air
To a tropical beach
An island to reach
A new territory
For an intimate story
Ali goum pa la mere
It's a foreign affair

Drifting and free
On a mystical sea
A wishful emotion
A drop in the ocean
A hush in the air
You can feel anywhere
In the cool twilight
On a tropical night

Floating on air
Foreign affair
A magical potion
A cool locomotion
A dream
A prayer
It's a foreign affair

Floating on air
Foreign affair
A magical potion
A cool locomotion
A dream
A prayer
It's a foreign affair

Repeat 1st verse (6 times)

Foreign

song performed by Mike Oldfield from Crises
Added by Lucian Velea
1 comment - Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Find It. Your Purpose

Find it.
Your purpose.
Once it has been discovered,
Do not let it be undermined.
Your purpose.

It is difficult to be oneself,
And declare oneself to 'be'.
It is much easier to locate acceptance,
When approval from others...
Does not threaten,
A routine enjoyed with unchanged beliefs.

Find it.
Your purpose.
Once it has been discovered,
Do not let it be undermined.
Your purpose.

And once it is recognized...
Be prepared to be criticized.
Be prepared to be humble too...
When a strength felt opens your eyes.
But never be apologetic,
For those steps you make.
Moving forward has been known,
To cause many heartache.

But find it,
You must...
Your purpose.
And trust that it is...
Your purpose!

And...
Once it has been discovered,
Do not let it be undermined.
Once it has been discovered,
Your purpose...
Will open and broaden your mind.

Finding one's purpose,
Does this every time!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

God Viewed As Exclusive Property

Many people
seem to believe
that God is

the exclusive property

of only
their religion
their denomination

their exclusive property.

But is this true?

How do we test
this mindset
discrimination?

“And God loved the world so much
that he gave his only-begotten Son,
in order that everyone exercising
faith in him might not be destroyed
but have everlasting life.” John 3: 16

God’s Word is the exclusive authority.
God belongs to “everyone exercising
faith in him”. But for what purpose?

What is the reason, the purpose of God?

“And he proceeded to say to them: “To
You the sacred secret of the kingdom of
God as been given, but to those outside
all things occur in illustrations” Mark 4: 11

“Adonai made everything for its purpose, even
the wicked for the day of disaster” Proverbs 16: 4

But God works in mysterious ways,
therefore who can know his purpose?

Now “we now that God causes everything
to work together (cooperate) for the good
of those who love God and (who) are called
in accordance with his purpose” Romans 8: 28

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Ghost - Book IV

Coxcombs, who vainly make pretence
To something of exalted sense
'Bove other men, and, gravely wise,
Affect those pleasures to despise,
Which, merely to the eye confined,
Bring no improvement to the mind,
Rail at all pomp; they would not go
For millions to a puppet-show,
Nor can forgive the mighty crime
Of countenancing pantomime;
No, not at Covent Garden, where,
Without a head for play or player,
Or, could a head be found most fit,
Without one player to second it,
They must, obeying Folly's call,
Thrive by mere show, or not at all
With these grave fops, who, (bless their brains!)
Most cruel to themselves, take pains
For wretchedness, and would be thought
Much wiser than a wise man ought,
For his own happiness, to be;
Who what they hear, and what they see,
And what they smell, and taste, and feel,
Distrust, till Reason sets her seal,
And, by long trains of consequences
Insured, gives sanction to the senses;
Who would not (Heaven forbid it!) waste
One hour in what the world calls Taste,
Nor fondly deign to laugh or cry,
Unless they know some reason why;
With these grave fops, whose system seems
To give up certainty for dreams,
The eye of man is understood
As for no other purpose good
Than as a door, through which, of course,
Their passage crowding, objects force,
A downright usher, to admit
New-comers to the court of Wit:
(Good Gravity! forbear thy spleen;
When I say Wit, I Wisdom mean)
Where (such the practice of the court,
Which legal precedents support)
Not one idea is allow'd
To pass unquestion'd in the crowd,
But ere it can obtain the grace
Of holding in the brain a place,
Before the chief in congregation
Must stand a strict examination.
Not such as those, who physic twirl,
Full fraught with death, from every curl;

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Rokeby: Canto IV.

I.
When Denmark's raven soar'd on high,
Triumphant through Northumbrian sky,
Till, hovering near, her fatal croak
Bade Reged's Britons dread the yoke,
And the broad shadow of her wing
Blacken'd each cataract and spring,
Where Tees in tumult leaves his source,
Thundering o'er Caldron and High-Force;
Beneath the shade the Northmen came,
Fix'd on each vale a Runic name,
Rear'd high their altar's rugged stone,
And gave their Gods the land they won.
Then, Balder, one bleak garth was thine,
And one sweet brooklet's silver line,
And Woden's Croft did title gain
From the stern Father of the Slain;
But to the Monarch of the Mace,
That held in fight the foremost place,
To Odin's son, and Sifia's spouse,
Near Stratforth high they paid their vows,
Remember'd Thor's victorious fame,
And gave the dell the Thunderer's name.

II.
Yet Scald or Kemper err'd, I ween,
Who gave that soft and quiet scene,
With all its varied light and shade,
And every little sunny glade,
And the blithe brook that strolls along
Its pebbled bed with summer song,
To the grim God of blood and scar,
The grisly King of Northern War.
O, better were its banks assign'd
To spirits of a gentler kind!
For where the thicket-groups recede,
And the rath primrose decks the mead,
The velvet grass seems carpet meet
For the light fairies' lively feet.
Yon tufted knoll, with daisies strown,
Might make proud Oberon a throne,
While, hidden in the thicket nigh,
Puck should brood o'er his frolic sly;
And where profuse the wood-vetch clings
Round ash and elm, in verdant rings,
Its pale and azure-pencill'd flower
Should canopy Titania's bower.

III.
Here rise no cliffs the vale to shade;

[...] Read more

poem by Sir Walter Scott
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Lord of the Isles: Canto II.

I.
Fill the bright goblet, spread the festive board!
Summon the gay, the noble, and the fair!
Through the loud hall, in joyous concert pour'd,
Let mirth and music sound the dirge of Care!
But ask thou not if Happiness be there,
If the loud laugh disguise convulsive throe,
Or if the brow the heart's true livery wear;
Lift not the festal mask! - enough to know,
No scene of mortal life but teems with mortal woe.

II.
With beaker's clang, with harpers' lay,
With all that olden time deem'd gay,
The Island Chieftain feasted high;
But there was in his troubled eye
A gloomy fire, and on his brow
Now sudden flush'd, and faded now,
Emotions such as draw their birth
From deeper source than festal mirth.
By fits he paused, and harper's strain
And jester's tale went round in vain,
Or fell but on his idle ear
Like distant sounds which dreamers hear.
Then would he rouse him, and employ
Each art to aid the clamorous joy,
And call for pledge and lay,
And, for brief space, of all the crowd,
As he was loudest of the loud,
Seem gayest of the gay.

III.
Yet nought amiss the bridal throng
Mark'd in brief mirth, or musing long;
The vacant brow, the unlistening ear,
They gave to thoughts of raptures near,
And his fierce starts of sudden glee
Seem'd bursts of bridegroom's ecstasy.
Nor thus alone misjudged the crowd,
Since lofty Lorn, suspicious, proud,
And jealous of his honour'd line,
And that keen knight, De Argentine,
(From England sent on errand high,
The western league more firm to tie),
Both deem'd in Ronald's mood to find
A lover's transport-troubled mind.
But one sad heart, one tearful eye,
Pierced deeper through the mystery,
And watch'd, with agony and fear,
Her wayward bridegroom's varied cheer.

[...] Read more

poem by Sir Walter Scott
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Constancy Of A Noble Purpose

how must i tell you again
it is not the intelligence but the
constancy of purpose
at first and then
you either do not listen when you
heard me clear or
you simply cannot accept it and
change
you believe always on intelligence
and so i watch you risk everything upon it
trying to explain every grain of sand
and there too many of them
and they invade your intelligence and
they bury it
then
finally killing you
suffocating you because the sands in their
constancy of purpose
never believe what intelligence
preaches and
bragged.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Hudibras: Part 1 - Canto I

THE ARGUMENT

Sir Hudibras his passing worth,
The manner how he sallied forth;
His arms and equipage are shown;
His horse's virtues, and his own.
Th' adventure of the bear and fiddle
Is sung, but breaks off in the middle.

When civil dudgeon a first grew high,
And men fell out they knew not why?
When hard words, jealousies, and fears,
Set folks together by the ears,
And made them fight, like mad or drunk,
For Dame Religion, as for punk;
Whose honesty they all durst swear for,
Though not a man of them knew wherefore:
When Gospel-Trumpeter, surrounded
With long-ear'd rout, to battle sounded,
And pulpit, drum ecclesiastick,
Was beat with fist, instead of a stick;
Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling,
And out he rode a colonelling.
A wight he was, whose very sight wou'd
Entitle him Mirror of Knighthood;
That never bent his stubborn knee
To any thing but Chivalry;
Nor put up blow, but that which laid
Right worshipful on shoulder-blade;
Chief of domestic knights and errant,
Either for cartel or for warrant;
Great on the bench, great in the saddle,
That could as well bind o'er, as swaddle;
Mighty he was at both of these,
And styl'd of war, as well as peace.
(So some rats, of amphibious nature,
Are either for the land or water).
But here our authors make a doubt
Whether he were more wise, or stout:
Some hold the one, and some the other;
But howsoe'er they make a pother,
The diff'rence was so small, his brain
Outweigh'd his rage but half a grain;
Which made some take him for a tool
That knaves do work with, call'd a fool,
And offer to lay wagers that
As MONTAIGNE, playing with his cat,
Complains she thought him but an ass,
Much more she wou'd Sir HUDIBRAS;

[...] Read more

poem by Samuel Butler
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Foreign Drunk

When you get tight in foreign lands
You never need go slinking,
No female neighbours lift their hands
And say “The brute!—he’s drinking!”
No mischief-maker runs with smiles
To give your wife a notion,
For she may be ten thousand miles
Across the bounding ocean.

Oh! I’ve been Scottish “fu” all night,
(O’er ills o’ life victorious),
And I’ve been Dutch and German tight,
And French and Dago glorious.
We saw no boa-constrictors then,
In every lady’s boa,
Though we got drunk with Antwerp men,
And woke up in Genoa!

When you get tight in foreign lands,
All foreigners are brothers—
You drink their drink and grasp their hands
And never wish for others.
Their foreign ways and foreign songs—
And girls—you take delight in:
The war-whoop that you raise belongs
To the country you get tight in.

When you get tight in a foreign port—
(Or rather bacchanalian),
You need no tongue for love or sport
Save your own good Australian.
(A girl in Naples kept me square—
Or helped me to recover—
For mortal knoweth everywhere
The language of the lover).

When you get tight in foreign parts,
With tongue and legs unstable,
They do their best, with all their hearts
And help you all they’re able.
Ah me! It was a happy year,
Though all the rest were “blanky,”
When I got drunk on lager beer,
And sobered up on “Swankey.”

poem by Henry Lawson
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Elegy XIV. Declining an Invitation To Visit Foreign Countries

DECLINING AN INVITATION TO VISIT FOREIGN COUNTRIES, HE TAKES OCCASION TO INTIMATE THE ADVANTAGES OF HIS OWN. TO LORD TEMPLE.

While others, lost to friendship, lost to love,
Waste their best minutes on a foreign strand,
Be mine, with British nymph or swain to rove,
And court the Genius of my native land.

Deluded Youth! that quits these verdant plains,
To catch the follies of an alien soil!
To win the vice his genuine soul disdains,
Return exultant, and import the spoil!

In vain he boasts of his detested prize;
No more it blooms, to British climes convey'd;
Cramp'd by the impulse of ungenial skies,
See its fresh vigour in a moment fade;

Th' exotic folly knows its native clime;
An awkward stranger, if we waft it o'er;
Why then these toils, this costly waste of time,
To spread soft poison on our happy shore?

I covet not the pride of foreign looms;
In search of foreign modes I scorn to rove;
Nor, for the worthless bird of brighter plumes,
Would change the meanest warbler of my grove.

No distant clime shall servile airs impart,
Or form these limbs with pliant ease to play;
Trembling I view the Gaul's illusive art,
That steals my loved rusticity away.

'Tis long since Freedom fled th' Hesperian clime,
Her citron groves, her flower-embroider'd shore;
She saw the British oak aspire sublime,
And soft Campania's olive charms no more.

Let partial suns mature the western mine,
To shed its lustre o'er th' Iberian maid;
Mien, beauty, shape, O native soil! are thine;
Thy peerless daughters ask no foreign aid.

Let Ceylon's envied plant perfume the seas,
Till torn to season the Batavian bowl;
Ours is the breast whose genuine ardours please,
Nor need a drug to meliorate the soul.

Let the proud Soldan wound th' Arcadian groves,
Or with rude lips th' Aonian fount profane;

[...] Read more

poem by William Shenstone
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

A Prayer in Spring

the universe
flows through the man
a minscule of
all creations
a volcano
seethes beneath
a calm demeanor
the krakatoa
that never announced
its blast
lava and all
the anger
that seethes, it burns
through the man
the tempest
the wind, the thunder,
the lightning
that sweeps through the land
the dowager throws her tantrums
a whole army of men beheaded
the river cruises through stone
a thousand years
to run through a dream
the central intelligence's dream
the man's patience
to fashion a way to the other world, universe
the men a miniscule of creation
in the sky, in the sea,
in the smallest gene, cell
you find the working
of the man
the pervasive intelligence
manifests in the miniscule
of creation; men
the lord wants interaction
the world to communicate
cell with cell, oxygen with hydrogen
sperm with ovum
the central intelligence
accumulates in the man
ensures the propagation
of a wondrous world
of interaction, growth
men, the miniscule of
the pervasive intelligence
go east, go west,
go north, go south
you turn back to the man
for answer to world's intelligence

[...] Read more

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Months Of 9/11 Intelligence Warnings Ignored?

Oil Date Summer 2001
Pakistani ISI Chief General Ahmad orders an aide
to wire transfer $100,000 to al-Qaeda FBI suspect
suicide hijackings 9/11 lead terrorist Mohammed
Atta but this transfer was later in India disclosed
then confirmed by the FBI General Ahmad resigned....

Oil Date August 11 or 12,2001 (Vreeland Spills The Beans)
Delmart 'Mike' Vreeland US Navy Lt. O-3 jailed in
Toronto on U.S. fraud charges claims to be an officer
in U.S. Naval intelligence ONI suddenly writes details
of the pending WTC attacks and seals them in an
envelope which he gives to Canadian authorities...

mystery man Vreeland locked up securely in a Canadian
jail since December 6,2000 verbally fails to warn jailers
Vreeland's letter specifically listed high profile targets
including The White House, The World Trade Center,
The Pentagon, The Sears Towers, Royal Bank in Toronto...

and Canadian parliament building in Ottawa but this
chilling sentence followed the target list 'Let one happen.
Stop the rest! ! ! ' the envelope was opened September 14th?

Oil Date August 2001 (FBI Uncovers Hijacking Plot)
FBI arrests Islamic militant linked to bin Laden in Boston
'French intelligence sources confirm that the man is a key
member of bin Laden's network and the FBI learns that he
has been taking flying lessons' the man has in possession
technical information on Boeing aircraft and flight manuals...

Oil Date August 2001 (CIA Receives Hijack Warnings)
Russian intelligence notifies the CIA 25 terrorist pilots
were specifically training for suicide missions reported
in Russian press news stories translated by a retired CIA
officer who forwards this data to the FTW the Russian
President Vladimir Putin orders Russian intelligence to...

warn 'in the strongest possible terms' the government
of the US of imminent attacks on airports government
buildings MS-NBC interview with Putin September 15th?

Oil Date August/September 2001
Dow Jones Industrial Average drops nearly 900
points in three weeks prior to 9/11 attack
meaning a major stock market crash is imminent?

Oil Date September 3-10,2001 (US Imminent Attack)
'a caller to a Cayman Islands radio talk show gave several
warnings of an imminent attack on the U.S. by bin Laden

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!