Citatepedia^®.com

Our enormous surplus revenues are illogical and oppressive.

quote by John Griffin Carlisle
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Empty Space

too late to hide
and too tired to care
take what you've left
and forget the rest
take what you see
of what's left of me
you know where I've been
and I don't want to go there again

you're beautiful
you're confusing
you're illogical
you're amazing
and I've seen the world
it's overrated
until you're everything
I have nothing
but empty space

I've been down
this road before
all that I've found
points me right back to you
and I've watch you move
from down below
where do I go from here
I guess I'll find out as I go

you're beautiful
you're confusing
you're illogical
you're amazing
and I've seen the world
it's overrated
until you're everything
I have nothing
but empty space

you're beautiful
you're confusing
you're illogical
you're amazing
and I've seen the world
it's overrated
until you're everything
I have nothing
until you're everything
I have nothing
but an empty space

song performed by Lifehouse from Stanley Climbfall
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Verbs Of Power

Verbs of Power - now here's the sum of another drum
Now mortals aware, now prepare for illogical son
My Verbs of Power are the spiritual spank
My deep, deep Blackness, your mind gets dank
Revelation to Genesis, something you cannot dismiss
Keys to Crossroad, come to abyss!
And find a verb-stick swingin' while I'm livin', giving the rhythm
Heed the word, and the bass-drop given!
A funk down, super sound, lyrical, visual
Illogical wisdom, forever continual
You're living simplistically, yet speak of reality
Your science, elementary - Dare speak? You can't get with me
Look at the wax, it's hieroglyphic, it's actual fact
I'm not reading and striving to wanna be Black
Here's the move 'cause I see none
I never boast, I never brag, I get the job done
I'm not the [?Buckley?] political, nor am I the physical
The rhythmical spiritual, the mystical magical
Movement is circle, never 90 degrees of a square
I'm the gorilla - robotics will run in a scare
Just to find that the zero's the ground
Come into my temple, have a seat at the round, feel the power
[Professor X]
Brother, Brother, Brother, how you make 'em get down?
[Brother J]
Professor Overseer, I've got pimp in my crown
It was the pimp that drove the mountainous elephant
It was ignorance that made this irrelevant
I'm not the pasta boy, I'm the African, call me by name
I'm the original, I taught you to set up this game
You silly mortal, keep on playing the Trump
I think they're gonna have to get me,
from stompin' and kickin' your rump
Once again, now it comes in the trend
I said "Free South Africa!" - you went to Berlin
Now there's the problem, I stand firm, beating my chest
You think a silly polar bear could ever put this to rest?
And yet they still will apologize, while I will epitomize
Embrace my children, show them Creator's eyes
Onto the path of the mystical teaching the math
No more to suffer - it's time for the wrath
Feel the power
On to the throne, the throne I come forth
Weapon of our rule, the verbs of great Thoth
Look at the sundial, look at the child of man
Where's the faith in the Spirit, the master plan?
Opportunity - the spoils of religion of God-man
Hero to rescue the drum jam
Fire, water, air and earth, I AM the fool
Teaching power that I never could learn in school

[...] Read more

song performed by X-Clan
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Verbs Of Power

Verbs of Power - now here's the sum of another drum
Now mortals aware, now prepare for illogical son
My Verbs of Power are the spiritual spank
My deep, deep Blackness, your mind gets dank
Revelation to Genesis, something you cannot dismiss
Keys to Crossroad, come to abyss!
And find a verb-stick swingin' while I'm livin', giving the rhythm
Heed the word, and the bass-drop given!
A funk down, super sound, lyrical, visual
Illogical wisdom, forever continual
You're living simplistically, yet speak of reality
Your science, elementary - Dare speak? You can't get with me
Look at the wax, it's hieroglyphic, it's actual fact
I'm not reading and striving to wanna be Black
Here's the move 'cause I see none
I never boast, I never brag, I get the job done
I'm not the [?Buckley?] political, nor am I the physical
The rhythmical spiritual, the mystical magical
Movement is circle, never 90 degrees of a square
I'm the gorilla - robotics will run in a scare
Just to find that the zero's the ground
Come into my temple, have a seat at the round, feel the power
[Professor X]
Brother, Brother, Brother, how you make 'em get down?
[Brother J]
Professor Overseer, I've got pimp in my crown
It was the pimp that drove the mountainous elephant
It was ignorance that made this irrelevant
I'm not the pasta boy, I'm the African, call me by name
I'm the original, I taught you to set up this game
You silly mortal, keep on playing the Trump
I think they're gonna have to get me,
from stompin' and kickin' your rump
Once again, now it comes in the trend
I said "Free South Africa!" - you went to Berlin
Now there's the problem, I stand firm, beating my chest
You think a silly polar bear could ever put this to rest?
And yet they still will apologize, while I will epitomize
Embrace my children, show them Creator's eyes
Onto the path of the mystical teaching the math
No more to suffer - it's time for the wrath
Feel the power
On to the throne, the throne I come forth
Weapon of our rule, the verbs of great Thoth
Look at the sundial, look at the child of man
Where's the faith in the Spirit, the master plan?
Opportunity - the spoils of religion of God-man
Hero to rescue the drum jam
Fire, water, air and earth, I AM the fool
Teaching power that I never could learn in school

[...] Read more

song performed by X-Clan
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The House Of Dust: Complete

I.

The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.

And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.

'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.

We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .

Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.

Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.

Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.

II.

[...] Read more

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Metamorphoses: Book The Seventh

THE Argonauts now stemm'd the foaming tide,
And to Arcadia's shore their course apply'd;
Where sightless Phineus spent his age in grief,
But Boreas' sons engage in his relief;
And those unwelcome guests, the odious race
Of Harpyes, from the monarch's table chase.
With Jason then they greater toils sustain,
And Phasis' slimy banks at last they gain,
Here boldly they demand the golden prize
Of Scythia's king, who sternly thus replies:
That mighty labours they must first o'ercome,
Or sail their Argo thence unfreighted home.
The Story of Meanwhile Medea, seiz'd with fierce desire,
Medea and By reason strives to quench the raging fire;
Jason But strives in vain!- Some God (she said)
withstands,
And reason's baffl'd council countermands.
What unseen Pow'r does this disorder move?
'Tis love,- at least 'tis like, what men call love.
Else wherefore shou'd the king's commands appear
To me too hard?- But so indeed they are.
Why shou'd I for a stranger fear, lest he
Shou'd perish, whom I did but lately see?
His death, or safety, what are they to me?
Wretch, from thy virgin-breast this flame expel,
And soon- Oh cou'd I, all wou'd then be well!
But love, resistless love, my soul invades;
Discretion this, affection that perswades.
I see the right, and I approve it too,
Condemn the wrong- and yet the wrong pursue.
Why, royal maid, shou'dst thou desire to wed
A wanderer, and court a foreign bed?
Thy native land, tho' barb'rous, can present
A bridegroom worth a royal bride's content:
And whether this advent'rer lives, or dies,
In Fate, and Fortune's fickle pleasure lies.
Yet may be live! for to the Pow'rs above,
A virgin, led by no impulse of love,
So just a suit may, for the guiltless, move.
Whom wou'd not Jason's valour, youth and blood
Invite? or cou'd these merits be withstood,
At least his charming person must encline
The hardest heart- I'm sure 'tis so with mine!
Yet, if I help him not, the flaming breath
Of bulls, and earth-born foes, must be his death.
Or, should he through these dangers force his way,
At last he must be made the dragon's prey.
If no remorse for such distress I feel,
I am a tigress, and my breast is steel.
Why do I scruple then to see him slain,

[...] Read more

poem by Ovid
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Blackberries

Blackberry big bulky
sophisticated prestigious high tech
hi-tech cell phone hand phone

cellular phone mobile phone
not being a businessman
many extras are surplus to me

systems unlearned are surplus to me

integrated circuits excite not surplus to me

chains of locations busted
ease of instant access
is sufficient service unto me

in times of intense
sun spot activity
all systems fail

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

Kids!

Kids!
Hundreds of 'em for the farmer! Kids of an imported brand;
Thousands of 'em for the country! Lo, the man upon the land
Bids
Loud for England's surplus youngster - five whole bob a week, 'tis said;
And their value to the nation stands at many pounds a head.
But the nation never riz 'em.
That 'would tend to Socialism';
So we have to fetch 'em over from the country where they're bred.
Kids!
Send us kids from good old Britain - sons of men who won't be slaves
From the land where countless paupers seek dishonorable graves
Quids!
We're prepared to offer for them. Ship them out across the deep,
From that dear old Freetrade country where the cost of labor's cheap.
While, of our unmarried workers
(Married men are costly shirkers)
We will take a meagre hundred at a pound a week and keep.
Kids?
We can't raise 'em in Australia, where employers by the score
For the bloke without a missus in the labor depôts roar
Bids.
Ship 'em out! The noble farmer yearns to mould their bright young lives.
Ship 'em young that for a dozen years they may not seek for wives.
When they think of getting married
Maybe they'll regret they tarried
Where the kid-encumbered worker vainly for a billet strives.
Kids?
We don't want 'em when they're babies, for their raisin' costs a heap.
We don't want 'em when they're married, with their own young broods to keep.
Skids
And brakes upon the wheels of progress are such futile folk. Just look
At the bob advertisement. You'll see their chance of work is 'crook.'
Ship 'em out in handy sizes
For the cove that advertises
For the unencumbered couple
' Man to milk and wife to cook.'
Kids?
Spare our days! Why should we raise 'em? We can get 'em ready-made
From a land where there's a surplus, thanks to good old BULL's Freetrade.
Quids
It will save the careful farmer. He can give his man the sack
Costly man who owns a missus and a child or two to whack.
Ship 'em out, he's yearnin' for 'em;
While they're young he'll just adore 'em
Then, when they grow up and marry, someone else can ship 'em back.
Ships
Pass in with cheap boy labor - 'badly needed farming hand';
Shps pass out with young Australians seeking work in other lands.
Hips

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Dispossessed

this heart sees no hope!

eyes see no water to drink
eyes see no food to eat
eyes owning poverty die daily

die daily deemed dead millions!

lips parch taste no relief water
stomach shrinks tastes no food
eyes cloud see no compassion

misericorde starvation is the mercy stroke!

share surplus resources?
share surplus life food?
or waste surplus drive up prices?

stiletto needle wealth controls markets!

this soul thirsts
this soul hungers
still no place is found

still no place within world to reside!

death abides death abides?
soul cry soul cry soul cry out to heaven?
starvation plea mounts up appeals to throne in heaven?

the poor are always with us condemning indifference!

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

Wat Tyler - Act III

ACT III.

SCENE—SMITHFIELD.

PIERS (meeting JOHN BALL.)

You look disturb'd, my father?

JOHN BALL.

Piers, I am so.
Jack Straw has forced the Tower: seized the Archbishop,
And beheaded him.

PIERS.

The curse of insurrection!

JOHN BALL.

Aye, Piers! our nobles level down their vassals—
Keep them at endless labour like their brutes,
Degrading every faculty by servitude:
Repressing all the energy of the mind.
We must not wonder then, that like wild beasts,
When they have burst their chains, with brutal rage
They revenge them on their tyrants.

PIERS.

This Archbishop!
He was oppressive to his humble vassals:
Proud, haughty, avaricious.—

JOHN BALL.

A true high-priest!
Preaching humility with his mitre on!
Praising up alms and Christian charity
Even whilst his unforgiving hand distress'd
His honest tenants.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Southey
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Barabas

Something is changing
Growing in your mind
Cant do a thing about it
Living in normal life - barabas
Cant remember the first light
Must have been something enormous
I would give anything to travel into time
Barabas ....
Must have been something enormous,
Something enormous, something enormous
I would give anything to travel into time

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

La Géante (The Giantess)

Du temps que la Nature en sa verve puissante
Concevait chaque jour des enfants monstrueux,
J'eusse aimé vivre auprès d'une jeune géante,
Comme aux pieds d'une reine un chat voluptueux.

J'eusse aimé voir son corps fleurir avec son âme
Et grandir librement dans ses terribles jeux;
Deviner si son coeur couve une sombre flamme
Aux humides brouillards qui nagent dans ses yeux;

Parcourir à loisir ses magnifiques formes;
Ramper sur le versant de ses genoux énormes,
Et parfois en été, quand les soleils malsains,

Lasse, la font s'étendre à travers la campagne,
Dormir nonchalamment à l'ombre de ses seins,
Comme un hameau paisible au pied d'une montagne.

The Giantess

At the time when Nature with a lusty spirit
Was conceiving monstrous children each day,
I should have liked to live near a young giantess,
Like a voluptuous cat at the feet of a queen.

I should have liked to see her soul and body thrive
And grow without restraint in her terrible games;
To divine by the mist swimming within her eyes
If her heart harbored a smoldering flame;

To explore leisurely her magnificent form;
To crawl upon the slopes of her enormous knees,
And sometimes in summer, when the unhealthy sun

Makes her stretch out, weary, across the countryside,
To sleep nonchalantly in the shade of her breasts,
Like a peaceful hamlet below a mountainside.

— Translated by William Aggeler

The Giantess

Of old when Nature, in her verve defiant,
Conceived each day some birth of monstrous mien,
I would have lived near some young female giant
Like a voluptuous cat beside a queen;

To see her body flowering with her soul
Freely develop in her mighty games,

[...] Read more

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

The City of Dreadful Night

Per me si va nella citta dolente.

--Dante

Poi di tanto adoprar, di tanti moti
D'ogni celeste, ogni terrena cosa,
Girando senza posa,
Per tornar sempre la donde son mosse;
Uso alcuno, alcun frutto
Indovinar non so.

Sola nel mondo eterna, a cui si volve
Ogni creata cosa,
In te, morte, si posa
Nostra ignuda natura;
Lieta no, ma sicura
Dell' antico dolor . . .
Pero ch' esser beato
Nega ai mortali e nega a' morti il fato.

--Leopardi

PROEM

Lo, thus, as prostrate, "In the dust I write
My heart's deep languor and my soul's sad tears."
Yet why evoke the spectres of black night
To blot the sunshine of exultant years?
Why disinter dead faith from mouldering hidden?
Why break the seals of mute despair unbidden,
And wail life's discords into careless ears?

Because a cold rage seizes one at whiles
To show the bitter old and wrinkled truth
Stripped naked of all vesture that beguiles,
False dreams, false hopes, false masks and modes of youth;
Because it gives some sense of power and passion
In helpless innocence to try to fashion
Our woe in living words howe'er uncouth.

Surely I write not for the hopeful young,
Or those who deem their happiness of worth,
Or such as pasture and grow fat among
The shows of life and feel nor doubt nor dearth,
Or pious spirits with a God above them
To sanctify and glorify and love them,
Or sages who foresee a heaven on earth.

For none of these I write, and none of these
Could read the writing if they deigned to try;

[...] Read more

poem by James Thomson
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

A balanced program for tax reform based upon the common sense idea of lowering taxes out of surplus revenues.

quote by Andrew Mellon
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Straw

I

When you are trying to sleep, Solominka,
In your enormous bedroom, and are waiting,
Sleepless, for the high and weighty ceiling to come down
With quiet, heavy sorrow on your keen eyelids,

Sonorous Solomka, or seasoned Solominka,
You've drunk down all death, grown tender and
Been broken, my dear Solomka, no more alive --
Not Salome, no, it is Solominka.

In hours of insomnia, objects are heavier
As if fewer of them -- such a stillness --
The cushions glitter in the mirror, whitening a bit,
And the bed is reflected in the round pool.

No, it is not Solomka in her solemn satin
In a huge room above the black Neva.
For twelve months they sing of the final hour,
And the pale blue ice waves in the air.

Solemn December sends out its breath
As if the great Neva were in the room.
No, not Solominka, Ligeia, dying --
I have learned you, glorious words.

II

I have learned you, blessed words:
-- Lenore, Solominka, Ligeia, Seraphita --
In the enormous room, the great Neva,
And from the granite, the blue blood flows.

Solemn December shines above the Neva.
For twelve months they sing of the final hour.
No, not Solominka in her satin
Savoring a slow, oppressive rest.

In my blood lives December's Ligeia,
Whose blissful love sleeps in a sarcophagus,
And which, solominka, perhaps Salome,
Was killed by pity, and shall never return.

poem by Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Grain In Open

Millions may bless you for gesture
I am confident and very sure
Their bellies are hungry and starve
We can see it on stomach with deep inside curve

It may look illogical
Yet it is question for survival
Absolutely in our own hand
With little change in approach and trend

How much food grain is allowed to rot?
Why not preventive measures be taken on the spot?
I hear reports that grain stock is dumped in the sea
Only to maintain artificial price but thrown away free

Thousands perish for the want of food
For humanity sake this is shameful and not good
Let hungry get some grain even if at some cost!
Save hungry people before they are dead and lost

Grain is stored in open and laid to waste
Insects make it unhygienic and lead to bad taste
Not fit for anything but offered for human consumption
Everything is lost only because of faulty assumption

If little care is taken for preservation
Will power not show but for demonstration
This of those poor countries diverting funds
Not able to cope yet take care of people on the ground

Can any one say this is impossible?
Our current trend is illogical and reversible?
I suggest for building public opinion
Force the governments to help with total disregard to religion

Let some price for grain be quoted
But grain should not be off load in sea and floated
Let people consume and survive on this earth
Why do we want to push them to meet the avoidable death?

If one man can be convinced then it can turn lot many
There may be involvement or consideration for money
But let us rise above pretty consideration and not allow grain to rot
I am sure of the view that hunger can be tackled successfully and fought

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Since, however, the reduced surplus value is to be distributed among them in like manner, the modification of their respective parts in the production of surplus value must find expression in a modification of the prices.

quote by Rudolf Hiferding
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The first year of the Bush administration we used up all of the surplus and ended up just with the Social Security and Medicare surplus, and each year worse than the year before.

quote by Bobby Scott
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

A man with a surplus can control circumstances, but a man without a surplus is controlled by them, and often has no opportunity to exercise judgment.

quote by Marshall Field
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Bonus Excess Surplus Extra

In the name of contemporary
You can do anything here and there.

To be very clear I do not like
These words bonus excess surplus extra.

Bonus Excess Surplus Extra
All are in my areas
And telling things that are
Not even in Mars.

You can pickup anyone
And entered in to Fukushima
And find your debris there.

I am here
And this contemporary
Detail area.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Dick Cheney (won’t you please go home)

Won't you go home, Dick Cheney, won't you go home
Don’t talk the whole term long
You started with a surplus, but now its spent
Leave poor Barrack alone

Remember that water boarding
That you approved- saying torture isn’t wrong
Now our country’s in the tank and it’s you we have to thank
Dick Cheney, won't you please go home

Won't you go home, Dick Cheney, won't you go home
Don’t talk the whole term long
You started with a surplus, but now it’s spent
On your “forever” wars

Remember that last Election
We turned you out -and made you take the idiot back home
You were good for Halliburton but the rest of us are hurting
Dick Cheney won’t you please go home

When your own daughter don’t like Dick
That must make a man heartsick
Dick Cheney, won't you please go home

poem by John F. McCullagh
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!