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You have to channel the interpretation and performance into 100 people. And with the audience, the critics.

quote by Riccardo Muti
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An Essay on Criticism

Part I

INTRODUCTION. That it is as great a fault to judge ill as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to the public. That a true Taste is as rare to be found as a true Genius. That most men are born with some Taste, but spoiled by false education. The multitude of Critics, and causes of them. That we are to study our own Taste, and know the limits of it. Nature the best guide of judgment. Improved by Art and rules, which are but methodized Nature. Rules derived from the practice of the ancient poets. That therefore the ancients are necessary to be studied by a Critic, particularly Homer and Virgil. Of licenses, and the use of them by the ancients. Reverence due to the ancients, and praise of them.

'Tis hard to say if greater want of skill
Appear in writing or in judging ill;
But of the two less dangerous is th'offence
To tire our patience than mislead our sense:
Some few in that, but numbers err in this;
Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss;
A fool might once himself alone expose;
Now one in verse makes many more in prose.

'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none
Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
In Poets as true Genius is but rare,
True Taste as seldom is the Critic's share;
Both must alike from Heav'n derive their light,
These born to judge, as well as those to write.
Let such teach others who themselves excel,
And censure freely who have written well;
Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true,
But are not Critics to their judgment too?

Yet if we look more closely, we shall find
Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind:
Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light;
The lines, tho' touch'd but faintly, are drawn right:
But as the slightest sketch, if justly traced,
Is by ill col'ring but the more disgraced,
So by false learning is good sense defaced:
Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,
And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools:
In search of wit these lose their common sense,
And then turn Critics in their own defence:
Each burns alike, who can or cannot write,
Or with a rival's or an eunuch's spite.
All fools have still an itching to deride,
And fain would be upon the laughing side.
If Mævius scribble in Apollo's spite,
There are who judge still worse than he can write.

Some have at first for Wits, then Poets pass'd;
Turn'd Critics next, and prov'd plain Fools at last.
Some neither can for Wits nor Critics pass,
As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.
Those half-learn'd witlings, numerous in our isle,
As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;
Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call,

[...] Read more

poem by Alexander Pope
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Trash Bag

1 bag cement mold
10 inch leather titleist golf bag
2006 kia rio side air bags
1900 s tapestry bag
1,000 face value silver bag buyers
100ft x 200ft plastic bag
16 flow-through infuser bags order e-mail
2001 accura air bags
1966 chevy pickup air bags
1st responder bag subdued
40 catchers equipment bag
10 dolars chanell bags for sale
$20,000 beanie bag
2 004 ben hogan golf bag
100 cotton childrens sleeping bags
2 mil designer bags
12 ounce bean bag
20 pound bag rabbit food
35 bag dirt james teen wendy
10 inch screen laptop bags
20 gallon garbage bags
30 gallon trash bags odor
17 leather laptop bag clearance
42 rolling duffle bag
2 section 17 roller cooler bag
40 long sportsequipment bag
2005 ford taurus air bag
06 toyota corolla air bag
3 x 8 cello bags
1 ball roller bowling bags
10020 garbage bags
250 liter bag
21 sensational patchwork bags
4 wheeler cargo bags
3 shelf laundry bag cart
2002 altima air bags
2003 crown victoria air bag recall
2 pc motorcycle tour bag
2 x3 zip lock bags
360121 bat bag
$1 tea bag holder
400 gauge thick poly bags
2005 jackie o gucci hand bag
1 bag cement mixers
1920s clutch bag
1.5 oz bag reg chips
1 bag popcorn serving size
2000 saturn sl air bag light
11 gallon garbage bags
306 leather tour sissy bag

[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Fitration Bags

2.5 gallon shopvac bags
1995 ktm 400 rxc hard bags
2006 black leather prada bags list
24 x 36 shrink bags
18 x 9 padded bag
3m printscape personalized gift bag
20lb bag parrot food
40 inch round duffle bag
2001 explorer air bag light flashes
3rd street sissy bar bag
1997 nissan air bag sensor
12x18 carry bag
1001 grab bag ideas
2000 explorer air bag light flashing
15,000 cfm used bag dustcollector
12 lb turkey recipies in bag
14.1 laptop messenger bags
3306 plan tackle bag
10 pound bag of endives yield
4 mil zip bags
$2 grab bag nsd
1970s bean bag
18th century shooting bags
48 superman bop bag
2006 kawasaki ninja 250r bags
1976 electra glide saddle bags
1940 s english aoutomobiles gas bags
40 lb bag of cement
07 cr-v safety bag plastic pillar
2 gauge ear plug grab bag
1998 saturn sl2 air bag module
40 degree helix sleeping bag
3x4 organza gift bags
3 bags full consignment
2000 mercedes air bag problem
2ply snap handle bag
1987 bmw k75s saddle bags
2003 bozo desktop bop bag
135 approved electronic flight bag
2005 toyota matrix side air bags
2006 bag gucci spring
3 insulated sleeping bags
4in bag ice one
2008 street bob hard bags
45 micron bag
250 ninja nelson-rigg saddle bag
24 wheeled garment bag
1996 lincoln continental air bag suspension
2006 aka boule bag
400d horn bag

[...] Read more

poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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English Bards and Scotch Reviewers: A Satire

'I had rather be a kitten, and cry mew!
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers'~Shakespeare

'Such shameless bards we have; and yet 'tis true,
There are as mad, abandon'd critics too,'~Pope.

Still must I hear? -- shall hoarse Fitzgerald bawl
His creaking couplets in a tavern hall,
And I not sing, lest, haply, Scotch reviews
Should dub me scribbler, and denounce my muse?
Prepare for rhyme -- I'll publish, right or wrong:
Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.

O nature's noblest gift -- my grey goose-quill!
Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will,
Torn from thy parent bird to form a pen,
That mighty instrument of little men!
The pen! foredoom'd to aid the mental throes
Of brains that labour, big with verse or prose,
Though nymphs forsake, and critics may deride,
The lover's solace, and the author's pride.
What wits, what poets dost thou daily raise!
How frequent is thy use, how small thy praise!
Condemn'd at length to be forgotten quite,
With all the pages which 'twas thine to write.
But thou, at least, mine own especial pen!
Once laid aside, but now assumed again,
Our task complete, like Hamet's shall be free;
Though spurn'd by others, yet beloved by me:
Then let us soar today, no common theme,
No eastern vision, no distemper'd dream
Inspires -- our path, though full of thorns, is plain;
Smooth be the verse, and easy be the strain.

When Vice triumphant holds her sov'reign sway,
Obey'd by all who nought beside obey;
When Folly, frequent harbinger of crime,
Bedecks her cap with bells of every clime;
When knaves and fools combined o'er all prevail,
And weigh their justice in a golden scale;
E'en then the boldest start from public sneers,
Afraid of shame, unknown to other fears,
More darkly sin, by satire kept in awe,
And shrink from ridicule, though not from law.

Such is the force of wit! but not belong
To me the arrows of satiric song;
The royal vices of our age demand
A keener weapon, and a mightier hand.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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Channels

Channel 1's no fun.
Channel 2's just news.
Channel 3's hard to see.
Channel 4 is just a bore.
Channel 5 is all jive.
Channel 6 needs to be fixed.
Channel 7 and Channel 8-
Just old movies, not so great.
Channel 9's a waste of time.
Channel 10 is off, my child.
Wouldn't you like to talk a while?

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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T.v. Dinner

Someone channel surfin:
Channel 1: where'd ya get the beauty scar tough guy, eatin pussy
Channel 2: yeah, that's a naughty, naughty, naughty, no-no baby, baby, baby
Channel 3: this guy is really hot
Channel 4: gosh it's hot
Channel 5: it looks and feels natural, just like a part of you
Channel 6: the trouble with you is, your alergic to motown bellisle, bellisle
Channel 7: lsd
Channel 8: man, it's a real shame when people be throwin away a perfecty good white bot like that

song performed by Kid Rock
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Three Simple Words

100 children lie awake.
100 lashes left to take.
100 mouths still left to feed.
100 infants cry in need.
100 people die alone.
100 orphans need a home.
100 flags; all burnt in hate
100 murders and court dates.
100 reasons to stand up.
3 simple words; Enough is enough.

poem by William Blake Beckett
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning (1871)
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The Rosciad

Unknowing and unknown, the hardy Muse
Boldly defies all mean and partial views;
With honest freedom plays the critic's part,
And praises, as she censures, from the heart.

Roscius deceased, each high aspiring player
Push'd all his interest for the vacant chair.
The buskin'd heroes of the mimic stage
No longer whine in love, and rant in rage;
The monarch quits his throne, and condescends
Humbly to court the favour of his friends;
For pity's sake tells undeserved mishaps,
And, their applause to gain, recounts his claps.
Thus the victorious chiefs of ancient Rome,
To win the mob, a suppliant's form assume;
In pompous strain fight o'er the extinguish'd war,
And show where honour bled in every scar.
But though bare merit might in Rome appear
The strongest plea for favour, 'tis not here;
We form our judgment in another way;
And they will best succeed, who best can pay:
Those who would gain the votes of British tribes,
Must add to force of merit, force of bribes.
What can an actor give? In every age
Cash hath been rudely banish'd from the stage;
Monarchs themselves, to grief of every player,
Appear as often as their image there:
They can't, like candidate for other seat,
Pour seas of wine, and mountains raise of meat.
Wine! they could bribe you with the world as soon,
And of 'Roast Beef,' they only know the tune:
But what they have they give; could Clive do more,
Though for each million he had brought home four?
Shuter keeps open house at Southwark fair,
And hopes the friends of humour will be there;
In Smithfield, Yates prepares the rival treat
For those who laughter love, instead of meat;
Foote, at Old House,--for even Foote will be,
In self-conceit, an actor,--bribes with tea;
Which Wilkinson at second-hand receives,
And at the New, pours water on the leaves.
The town divided, each runs several ways,
As passion, humour, interest, party sways.
Things of no moment, colour of the hair,
Shape of a leg, complexion brown or fair,
A dress well chosen, or a patch misplaced,
Conciliate favour, or create distaste.
From galleries loud peals of laughter roll,
And thunder Shuter's praises; he's so droll.
Embox'd, the ladies must have something smart,

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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What Lurks On Channel X?

What is lurking?
What is here?
What is lurking?
What you fear!
What is lurking?
What is here?
What is lurking?
What you fear!
Channel x.
Channel x.
Channel x.
Channel x.
What is lurking?
What is here?
What is lurking?
What you fear?
What is lurking?
What is here?
What is lurking?
What you fear?
Channel x.
Channel x.
Channel x.
Channel x.

song performed by Rob Zombie
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COUCH POTATO

Parody of "Lose Yourself" by Eminem
Look
If you had
One shot
To sit on your lazy butt
And watch all the TV you ever wanted
Until your brain turned to mush
Would you go for it
Or just let it slip?
Yo
Remote is ready
Eyes wide, palms are sweaty
There's Flintstone's on the TV already
Wilma N' Betty
No virgin to channel surfin
And I'm HD ready
So I flip, garbage is all I'm getting
There's Simon Cowell
Who folks wanna disembowel
He opens his mouth, always says something foul
They're dying, Wow!
Wannabe's are crying now
He votes them out
Time to throw in the towel
Show's based on reality
Oh the humanity!
Oh! Ozzy's family!
Sho' loves profanity!
Whoa! The insanity!
Oh! Dogs that crap and pee
Home of depravity?
No! They live happily
Yo! Plus "The Ali G Show"
And "Celebrity Mole"
Oh there's Anna Nicole
She's scaring me
"Look ma, no cavities!"
Oh! It's a station break
Better go out to the kitchen and microwave something
"You're gonna lose your mind watchin TV"
They told me, they'd scold me
But I still tune in every show (show)
My cable gets C-SPAN, TV Land and HBO
The Travel Channel, Discovery, and Lifetime (yo)
"You're gonna lose your mind watchin' TV"
They told me, cajoled me
"Turn off those music videos!" (no!)
I'm gonna watch C-SPAN TV Land and HBO
The History Channel and QVC and Lifetime (yo)
"You're Gonna..."

[...] Read more

song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
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All The Critics Love U In New York

U can dance if U want 2
All the critics love U in New York
U don't have 2 keep the beat
They'll still think it's neat in New York

U can wear what U want 2
It doesn't matter in New York
U could cut off all your hair
I don't think they'd care in New York

All the critics love U in New York

Why U can play what U want 2
All the critics love U in New York
They won't say that U're naive
If U play what U believe in New York

Purple love-amour is all U're in it 4
But don't show it
The reason that U're cool
Is cuz U're from the old school and they know it

All the critics love U in New York

U can dance if U want 2
All the critics love U in New York
U can dance if U want 2
All the critics love U in New York

All the critics love U

song performed by Prince from 1999
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All Different, But Still The Same

Some people have short hair, some have long.
Some people have thick hair; some people’s hair is all gone.

Some people have black hair, some have gray.
Some people have brown hair, some blonde, some red.
Some people’s hair a color unsaid.

Some people are short, some people are tall.
Some people will love you; some won’t like you at all.

Some people like hot weather, some like cold.
Some people are timid, some people are bold.
Some people have dark skin, some people have light.
Some people have black skin, some people have white.

Some people eat meat; some won’t touch it at all.
Some people have a good memory, some can’t recall.
Some people accept Christ, some never will.
Some people are stingy, some people give.

Some people like school, some people don’t.
Some people will excel, some people won’t.
Some people smoke cigarettes, some never will.
Some people are honest, some people steal.

Some people have book knowledge;
But don’t know the Holy Book.
Some people burn food, some people can cook.

Some people are old, some people are young.
Some people do smart things, some people do dumb.

Some people just have a diploma
Some people have degrees.
Some people do things slow, some with a breeze.
Some people are complainers, some easy to please.

Some people hate shopping, some stay in the mall.
Some people hate God, but God loves us all.

We are all different, but still the same.

When I get cut, I bleed red;
You get cut, red blood you’ll shed.

Some people are plump, some people are thin.
But we are all the same, we’re all human being.

Copyright © 2010-Phyllis Strong

poem by Phyllis Strong
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Virginia's Story

Elizabeth Gates-Wooten is my Grand mom.

She was born in Canada with her father and brothers.
They owned a Barber Shoppe.
I don't remember exactly where in Canada.
I believe it was right over the border like Windsor or Toronto.
I never knew exactly where it was.

When she was old enough she got married.

First, she married a man by the name of Frank Gates.
He was from Madagascar.
He fathered my mom and her brother and sister.
The boy's name was Frank Gates, Jr.
Two girls name were Anna and Agnes.

Agnes was my mother.

Frank Gates went crazy after the war
He drank a lot and died
Then grandma Elizabeth married a man by the name of Mr. Wooten.
He had a German name, but I don't think he was German.
She took his last name after they got married.

Then they moved to West Virginia in the United States.

Their son, Frank Gates Jr. Became a delegate in the democratic party.
He use to get into a lot of trouble because he liked to fight.
He was a delegate from the 1940's to 1970's.
He died of gout in the 1970's.

Anna was a maid and cook.

She baked cakes and stuff for people as a side line.
She had a hump on her back (scoliosis) .
She had to walk with a cane.
She could cook good though.
She did this kind of work all of her life, just like her mom, Elizabeth

They were both good cooks

They had a lot of money because they had these skills
Especially when people had parties.
Because they would make all of this food and then they would have left-overs.
We got to eat a lot of stuff we normally wouldn't get because of that.
When they cooked, they didn't use no measuring stuff, they would just use there hand.

My moms name was Agnes Barrie Gates.

She married James Wright and moved to Cleveland.

[...] Read more

poem by Talile Ali
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The critic

The status of critics has changed,

The most important critics were those who stood on street

corners

Full of gossip and finger wagging

Or the busty burly matrons whispering over washing lines

These critics were the slanderers

The little vipers who hung by the school gate

Some still do,

This time they sink a pint or two,

In the pub with a couple of pug nose friends

But there is a class of critics

That whitewash your pale white words

Austere and aloof from the proof,

Scrubbed clean and mean,

They murder sentiment

Mock fools without 'a scene'

Redefining the 'new' 'illiterattii, ' who never went to school'

These critics wear brogues.....? ?

Am I being cruel? [or just ironic? ]

The men drink whisky

The women a gin/ vodka and tonic!

Fifty years ago they would 'parade'

In a uniforn of tweed and plaid

Post public school

But some critics just thumbnail through

[...] Read more

poem by Yvette Smith
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Nuclear Is Safe? No They Lied To You

A list of non classified nuclear disasters
chalk one up for Chalk River Canada
rating 5 a “reactor shutoff rod failure,

combined with several operator errors,
led to a major power excursion of more
than double the reactor's rated output
at AECL's NRX reactor” then a big deal.1952

Entrant two Windscale Pile United Kingdom
rating 5 a “Release of radioactive material to
the environment following a fire in a reactor
core.” Toast a good year for nuclear disasters.1957

graphite core of a British nuclear “[weapons
programme] reactor at Windscale, Cumberland
(now Sellafield, Cumbria) caught fire, releasing
substantial amounts of radioactive contamination
into the surrounding area.” Radioactive fire.

A warm welcome to entrant three. Kyshtym
Russia rating 6 a “Significant release of
radioactive material to the environment
from explosion of a high activity waste tank.” 1957

Please all welcome contestant one back
Chalk River Canada (rating?) “Due to
inadequate cooling a damaged uranium
fuel rod caught fire and was torn in two.” 1958

Champagne pops cheer another good year
Vinč a Yugoslavia (rating?) “During
a subcritical counting experiment a power
buildup went undetected - six scientists
received high doses.” What detailed detail? 1958

Applause please for our first American entry
Santa Susana Field Laboratory US (rating?)
“Partial core meltdown.” Sounds serious.
Tick one deep operations public cover up.1959

Time to take a nice country waltz in a US county
Westinghouse Waltz Mill Westmoreland County
(rating?) a core melt accident in a test reactor? 1960

Looks like American is going for a hat trick
Charlestown US (rating?) “Error by a worker
at a United Nuclear Corporation fuel facility
led to an accidental criticality”. Human error? 1964

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Knitted Well

The quality of this poem is knitted well!
Flow, low, below, blow, slow, cow, row;
Because,100 over 100 equals to 1.
The texture of this poem is knitted well!
Well, fell, bell, tell, hell, sell, cell, dell;
For we now see what is going on in Syria! !

War, tar, bar, star, car, gar, far, jar, mar, par;
With tangible images and tangible reasons,
And like a phenomenal man and a phenomenal woman!
But this war is killing many.

Clove, glove, prove, hove, strove, wove, stove;
And, what a nice poem that it is!
For, it is in it if,
It is with the muse of love!
And like the tender words of your muse,
But we now know what is going on in Syria.

100 over 100 is equal to 1!
But the poetry of life is always arouns us;
For the theme of this poem is fantastic! !
Bow, glow, how, vow, wow, grow, know;
And like the sweet muse of love.

Mow, now, sow, tow, throw, crow, show;
And like a nice image,
Shell, yell, jell, ell, quell, tell;
With its mystical muse like the melody of your music!
But the bombs are destroying everything.

Love, dove, drove, rove, shove, cove, grove;
With this superb peom to satisfy your muse,
But the poetry of life is always around us!
And we should find peace on earth always through this poetic life.

Sweet scent of freedom!
And like the modern songs in the land of your muse,
Because,100 over 100 equals to 1;
And this poem is knitted well,
But the poor moon weeps in the land of your muse because of this war!

When will these bombs stop falling on them? !
For the rich moon laughs in another land and,
The poor moon weeps in the land of Syria;
And the bombs are falling on them from every angle!
But, i do hope for peace in your land as well.

The philosopher,
Your choices,

[...] Read more

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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I Am The American Eagle

I Am The American Eagle

I am the American Eagle
with a broken right Republican wing,
and a broken left Democrat wing,
its 'We the people' body tattered and torn.
It needs pledges of help
to its God Bless America body,
for the Eagle spirit to heal.

Its 10% White Collar head
has lost control of its 90%
Blue Collar welfare soul.
For the American Eagle
to become strong,
we must quit
outsourcing its welfare
and unite with its talons
saying NUTS
Never Under Tyranny Surrender
the American Eagle spirit
that unites this nation.

That America is not 10%
but 100%,
where elected officials
need to be 100%
not 10%.
That we do not need
economic morticians
but 100%
American eagle POLITICIANS,
who are not bickering
Republicans
and/or
Democrats
but 100%
Americans.

'I pledge allegiance
to the flag of
the United States of America,
and to the republic
for which it stands,
one nation under God,
indivisible, with liberty
and justice for all.'

Feel these words reach deep inside America,
It is not a pledge to Demigod

[...] Read more

poem by David Lester Young
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I Am The Audience

I am the audience
Theres no doubt, no consequence
I could make the morning papers
If I use my capers
Lets be the audience
I might lose my patience
Polite applause excepted
To the ones selected, as the audience...
Oh I ... am the audience
No doubt, no consequence
Cause Im the audience
Lets be the audience
I might lose my patience
Polite applause excepted
To the ones selected
I am the audience
Breakdown the pretence
No longer be silent
Lets turn to violence
I am the audience

song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Am The Audience

I am the audience
Theres no doubt, no consequence
I could make the morning papers
If I use my capers
Lets be the audience
I might lose my patience
Polite applause excepted
To the ones selected, as the audience...
Oh I ... am the audience
No doubt, no consequence
Cause Im the audience
Lets be the audience
I might lose my patience
Polite applause excepted
To the ones selected
I am the audience
Breakdown the pretence
No longer be silent
Lets turn to violence
I am the audience

song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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