Nurture an appetite for being puzzled, for being confused, indeed for being openly stupid, and that - despite what you may think - is very difficult...We all know the cliche' that a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing. It is also true that a lot of knowledge can be a dangerous thing as well...use your ignorance as well as your knowledge for creative means.
The Way It Should Be
Picture an ocean - that no one else can see
A sea of emotion - just made for you and me
Id promise you anything if youd - listen to my plea
And if you let me love you - Id show you the way it
Yes if you let me love you - Ill show you the way it
Picture a sad man - alone inside his dreams
Its just how I feel when - I try to make you see
That you could have anything if youd - put your trust
Im always afraid of what you might think of me
It could all be the same - the way that it used to be
Picture a castle where - a fool is all you see
Im living in hope that one day - you might rescue me
cos Id wait forever if I - thought youd set me free
- quotes about promises
- quotes about oceans
- quotes about sadness
- quotes about illness
- quotes about television
- quotes about life
- quotes about dreaming
- quotes about love
- quotes about men
Total self-esteem requires total and unconditional acceptance of yourself. You are a unique and worthy individual, regardless of your mistakes, defeats and failures, despite what others may think, say or feel about you or your behavior. If you truly accept and love yourself, you won't have a driving need for attention and approval. Self-esteem is a genuine love of self. Stop all adverse value judging of yourself. Stop accepting the adverse value judgments of others. Purge yourself of all condemnation, shame, blame, guilt & remorse.
Our Reflective Mirror
Our elected representatives are our reflective mirror does that seem fair to say
And what we sow we do receive life's always been this way
Our deceitful and greedy politicians the mirror of our deceit and greed
Of corruption on election day 'tis we who plant the seed
They are our own reflection for want of a better name
And perhaps we should first look at ourselves when them we choose to blame
Of the poverty that surrounds us from where we live not far away
The gap between the haves and the have nots is getting wider by the day
So many do grow poorer for every millionaire
And some will tell you such is life though life on many doesn't seem fair
You hear the Government Ministers talk of the good economy
But that does little for the millions living in poverty
Our elected representatives are our reflective mirror though with that few may agree
And despite what you may think or say that's how it seems to me.
Half – Being
Between a calm and a thunder,
I amputate my days, from the mediocre life of mindless alienation.
I bemoan for sanctity.
Man remains innocent of,
another man’s melody.
I get frightened.
Birds are suddenly falling from the sky.
Where the heart denies
a heart, a perfect rhythm,
mind bares a wound.
History does not repeat the truth.
Blank shadows break the windows
and I collect the ashes,
from the burnt plots and ruined homes.
Sometimes you pretend to kill,
an argument deliberately
to know the depth of the answer.
The turmoil of half-being;
the unhappiness of fulfillment,
the transformation of a death into peace,
was it in harmony?
I love you for what you seem.
Dear, can you be what you seam, inside your shell?
I fear, you may not show how you are inside.
Dear, can you admit me to peep inside your shell?
I fear, you may not expose the secret inside.
As long as you are not open with your shell inside
Why should I bother to know what is there in the Hell?
And why not what you seem outside alone can enthrall?
I love you for what you seem and not for what are inside.
I shall be concerned with your pericarp, content in full.
You can keep your endosperm to yourself opaque.
A Spit And Sawdust Pub
Jukebox on in the corner
a group of lads playing Pool
arrows being thrown at a dartboard
and a drunk acting the fool.
Loads of blokes in football shirts
watching a live game on the T.V.
a woman sipping at her Orange juice
while her partner knocks back Whisky.
Four chaps sit around a table
there playing three card brag
as one of them counts his winnings
the others go outside for a fag.
The pub gets noisier by the hour
words are now slurred due to the drink
some customers are now so drunk
they don't care what anyone may think.
Last orders is shouted out loudly
the landlord wants to call it a night
but before he can close the doors
he has to break up a drunken fight.
So that's a night in the rough house pub
as English as Cheese on Toast
a plate of Fish and Chips
or a good old Sunday roast!
A deliberate deception
It may be sure shot deception
when executed with solid conception
thoughts are integrated and pressed into action
you may have no time to offer any reaction
The river water is deep but not shallow
it will be calm but certainly not allow
to asses its depth and hidden danger
you may look upon it as complete stranger
So is the human being and individual as well
they will hide everything and do not reveal
they may take full care for everything to conceal
close friend even may not know the cause real
Someone cautioned me to be remain vigilant
we know her from the time when she was infant
you may not know her real motive and intention
it is not worth here anything to mention
I had no reason to disbelieve their advice
as I was totally blinded by hollow promises
I had no inkling about deception and trait
still I decided to follow with caution and wait
She may indulge in jokes and often say
'I am double edged weapon' and may block the way
If you try to cheat and commit any blunder
Still I thought it was mere talk and expected no thunder
She was calm and quite but hot headed
remained adamant and never heeded
it was her style of responding in arrogant way
I still preferred close relation and did not stay away
She used to pull me down in unceremonious style
I used to tolerate it for a while
It was not rehearsed to give it final bye
Thought I drove cautiously and made desperate try
Any one may find the alliance as holy
It has to be respected and observed wholly
we can never afford to commit folly
it will be termed as unwarranted and silly
No one cares about what others may think
they will meddle in affairs so much and deliberately sink
they wish to vitiate and make it unbearable
It is pathetic and can not be considerable
Some of the condition do not favor at all
they create distrust and impregnable wall
if no one tries to patch up then it may worsen
there will be collapse in relation all of sudden
We are not used to some of the bad memory
It ends in bitterness and lead to feel sorry
there is unforeseen tension and leads to worry
the relation must be on sound footing and not developed in hurry
Take Your Seat
Take your seat
Don't miss a beat
Of the soul that I bring
When I spit my poetry thing
The snaps of you fingers
To the way my words linger
Through the air
I'm not scared
Let your thoughts rain free
It's only me
Be open with yourself and be oh so true
I'm doing this for me, the hell with you
With your prejudice and sterotype
About how this girl is so righteously hype
I stand before you, not in disguise
No deception, deceit, or little white lies
What you see is what you get
So you either like it, love it, or leave it
I'll be alright if you don't approve
Of the way that I write, sing, shout, cuss, sex, love,
talk, fight, or the way that I move
Did you miss a beat
For you I will repeat
'Cause my skills keep on growing
And my words keep flowing
I might write an autobiography about me
About how I never failed me
I quinch my own thirst
'Cause I put myself first
I was born alone
I will die alone
And I can scribe whatever the hell I want because I am oh so grown
Despite what you thought, my beat brings heat
This I know because you are still in your seat
The Oleomargarine Man
Once-in the county of Marin,
Where milk is sold to purchase gin
Renowned for butter and renowned
For fourteen ounces to the pound
A bull stood watching every turn
Of Mr. Wilson with a churn,
As that deigning worthy stalked
About him, eying as he walked,
El Toro's sleek and silken hide,
His neck, his flank and all beside;
Thinking with secret joy: 'I'll spread
That mammal on a slice of bread!'
Soon Mr. Wilson's keen concern
To get the creature in his churn
Unhorsed his caution-made him blind
To the fell vigor of bullkind,
Till, filled with valor to the teeth,
He drew his dasher from its sheath
And bravely brandished it; the while
He smiled a dark, portentous smile;
A deep, sepulchral smile; a wide
And open smile, which, at his side,
The churn to copy vainly tried;
A smile so like the dawn of doom
That all the field was palled in gloom,
And all the trees within a mile,
As tribute to that awful smile,
Made haste, with loyalty discreet,
To fling their shadows at his feet.
Then rose his battle-cry: 'I'll spread
That mammal on a slice of bread!'
To such a night the day had turned
That Taurus dimly was discerned.
He wore so meek and grave an air
It seemed as if, engaged in prayer
This thunderbolt incarnate had
No thought of anything that's bad:
This concentrated earthquake stood
And gave his mind to being good.
Lightly and low he drew his breath
This magazine of sudden death!
All this the thrifty Wilson's glance
Took in, and, crying, 'Now's my chance!'
Upon the bull he sprang amain
To put him in his churn. Again
Rang out his battle-yell: 'I'll spread
That mammal on a slice of bread!'
Sing, Muse, that battle-royal-sing
The deeds that made the region ring,
The blows, the bellowing, the cries,
The dust that darkened all the skies,
The thunders of the contest, all
Nay, none of these things did befall.
A yell there was-a rush-no more:
El Toro, tranquil as before,
Still stood there basking in the sun,
Nor of his legs had shifted one
Stood there and conjured up his cud
And meekly munched it. Scenes of blood
Had little charm for him. His head
He merely nodded as he said:
'I've spread that butterman upon
A slice of Southern Oregon.'
When, by a decree of the sovereign power,
The poet makes his appearance in a bored world,
With fists clenched at the horror, his outraged mother
Calls on a pitying God, at whom these curses are hurled:
"Why was I not made to litter a brood of vipers
Rather than conceive this human mockery?
My curses on that night whose ephemeral pleasures
Filled my womb with this avenging treachery!
Since I must be chosen among all women that are
To bear the lifetime's grudge of a sullen husband,
And since I cannot get rid of this caricature,
--Fling it away like old letters to be burned,
On what you have devised for my punishment
I will let all your hate of me rebound,
I will torture this stunted growth until its bent
Branches let fall every blighted bud to the ground!"
And so she prepares herself in
Hell's pit. A place on the pyre made for a mother's crimes,
Blind, in the fury of her foaming hatred,
To the meaning and purpose of the eternal designs.
Meanwhile, under the care of an unseen angel,
The disinherited Child revels in the sun's
Bright force; all that he eats and drinks can fill
Him with memories of the food that was heaven's.
The wind his plaything, any cloud a friend,
The Spirit watching can only weep to see
How in childhood his way of the cross is lightened
With the wild bird-song of his innocent gaiety.
Those he would love look at him with suspicion
Or else, emboldened by his calm, experiment
With various possible methods of exciting derision
By trying out their cruelty on his complaint.
They mix ashes or unspeakable filth with the bread
And the wine of his daily communion, drop
Whatever he may have touched with affected dread,
And studiously avoid wherever he may step.
His mistress, parading her contempt in the street,
Cries: "Since he finds my beauty a thing to worship,
I will be one of the ancient idols he talks about,
And make myself with gold out of the same workshop!
I will never have enough of his kneelings and offerings
Until I am sure that the choice foods, the wines,
The 'nard,' the 'incense,' the 'myrrh' that he brings
He brings as other men would to the Virgin's shrines.
And when I am sick to death of trying not to laugh
At the farce of my black masses,
I'll try the force Of the hand he calls 'frail,' my nails will dig a path
Like harpies', to the heart that beats for me, of course!
Like a nestling trembling and palpitating
I will pull that red heart out of his breast
And throw it down for my favorite dog's eating
--Let him do whatever he likes with the rest!"
A serene piety, lifting the poet's gaze,
Reveals heaven opening on a shining throne,
And the lower vision of the world's ravening rage
Is shut off by the sheet lightnings of his brain.
"Be blessed, oh my God, who givest suffering
As the only divine remedy for our folly,
As the highest and purest essence preparing
The strong in spirit for ecstasies most holy.
I know that among the uplifted legions
Of saints, a place awaits the
Poet's arrival, And that among the
Powers, Virtues, Dominations
He too is summoned to Heaven's festival.
I know that sorrow is the one human strength
On which neither earth nor hell can impose,
And that all the universe and all time's length
Must be wound into the mystic crown for my brows.
But all the treasury of buried Palmyra,
The earth's unknown metals, the sea's pearls,
Mounted by Thy hand, would be deemed an inferior
Glitter, to his diadem that shines without jewels.
For Thou knowest it will be made of purest light
Drawn from the holy hearth of every primal ray,
To which all human eyes, if they were one bright
Eye, are only a tarnished mirror's fading day!"
Alma; or, The Progress of the Mind. In Three Cantos. - Canto II.
But shall we take the Muse abroad,
To drop her idly on the road,
And leave our subject in the middle,
As Butler did his Bear and Fiddle?
Yet he, consummate master, knew
When to recede and where pursue:
His noble negligence teach
What others' toils despair to reach.
He, perfect dancer, climbs the rope,
And balances your fear and hope.
If, after some distinguished leap,
He drops his pole, and seems to slip,
Straight gathering all his active strength,
He rises higher half his length:
With wonder you approve his sleight,
And owe your pleasure to your fright:
But like poor Andrew I advance,
False mimic of my master's dance;
Around the chord a while I sprawl,
And thence, though low, in earnest fall.
My preface tells you I digress'd;
He's half absolved who has confess'd.
I like, quoth Dick, your simile,
And in return take two from me.
As masters in the
With various light your eyes allure,
A flaming yellow here they spread,
Draw off in blue, or change in red;
Yet from these colours oddly mix'd
Your sight upon the whole is fix'd:
Or as, again, your courtly dames
(Whose clothes returning birthday claims)
By arts improve the stuffs they vary,
And things are best as most contrary;
The gown with stiff embroidery shining,
Looks charming with a slighter lining;
Look out, if Indian figure stain,
The in-side must be rich and plain:
So you, great authors, have thought fit
To make digression temper wit:
You calm them with a milder air:
To break their points you turn their force,
And furbelow the plain discourse.
Richard, quoth Matt, these words of thine
Speak something sly and something fine;
But I shall e'en resume my theme,
However thou may'st praise or blame.
As people marry now and settle,
Fierce Love abates his usual mettle;
Worldly desires and household cares
Disturb the godhead's soft affairs:
So now, as health or temper changes,
In larger compass Alma ranges,
This day below, the next above,
As light or solid whimsies move.
So merchant has his house in Town,
And country seat near Bansted Down;
From one he dates his foreign letters,
Sends out his goods and duns his debtors:
In th' other, at his hours of leisure,
He smokes his pipe, and takes his pleasure.
And now your matrimonial Cupid,
Lash'd on by Time, grows tired and stupid:
For story and experience tell us
That man grows cold and woman jealous.
Both would their solid ends secure;
He sighs for freedom she for power:
His wishes tend abroad to roam,
And hers to domineer at home.
Thus passion flags by slow degrees,
And ruffled more delighted legs,
The busy mind does seldom go
To those once charming seats below;
For well-bred feints and future wars,
(When he last autumn lay a-dying)
Was but to gain him to appoint her
By codicil a larger jointure:
The woman finds it all a trick
That he could swoon when she was sick,
And knows that in that grief he reckon'd
One black-eyed Susan for his second.
Thus having strove some tedious years
With feign'd desires and real fears,
And tired with answers and replies
Of John affirms, and Martha lies,
Leaving this endless altercation,
The mind affects a higher station.
Poltis, that generous king of Thrace,
I think was in this very case.
All Asia now was by the ears,
And gods beat up for volunteers
To Greece and Troy, while Poltis sate
In quiet, governing his state.
And whence, said the pacific king,
Does all this noise and discord spring?
Why, Paris took Atrides' wife -
With ease I could compose this strife:
The injured hero should not lose,
Nor the young lover want, a spouse.
But Helen changed her first condition
Without her husband's just permission.
What from the dame can Paris hope?
She may as well from him elope.
Again, How can her old good man
With honour take her back again?
From hence I logically gather
The woman cannot live with either.
Now I have two right honest wives,
For whose possession no man strives:
One to Atrides I will send,
And t'other to my Trojan friend.
Each prince shall thus with honour have
What both so warmly seem to crave;
The wrath of gods and men shall cease,
And Poltis live and die in peace.
Dick, if this story pleaseth thee,
Pray thank Dan Pope, who told it me.
Howe'er swift Alma's flight may vary,
(Take this by way of corollary)
Some limbs she finds the very same
In place, and dignity, and name:
These dwell at such convenient distance,
That each may give his friend assistance.
Thus he who runs or dances, begs
The equal vigour of two legs;
So much to both does Alma trust
She ne'er regards which goes the first.
Teague could make neither of them stay,
For whilst one hand exalts the blow,
And on the earth extends the foe,
Th' other would take it wondrous ill
If in your pocket he lay still.
And when you shoot and shut one eye,
To lend the other friendly aid,
Or wink as coward, and afraid.
No, Sir; whilst he withdraws his flame,
His comrade takes the surer aim.
One moment if his beams recede,
As soon as e'er the bird is dead,
Opening again, he lays his claim
To half the profit, half the fame,
And helps to pocket up the game.
'Tis thus one tradesman slips away
To give his partner fairer play.
Some limbs again, in bulk or stature
Unlike, and not a-kin by Nature,
In concert act, like modern friends,
Because one serves the other's ends.
The arm thus waits upon the heart,
So quick to take the bully's part,
That one, though warm, decides more slow
Than th' other executes the blow:
A stander-by may chance to have it
Ere Hack himself perceives he gave it.
The amorous eyes thus always go
A strolling for their friends below;
For long before the squire and dame
tete a tete
relieved their flame,
Ere visits yet are brought about,
They eye by sympathy looks out,
Knows Florimel, and longs to meet her,
And if he sees is sure to greet her,
Though at sash-window, on the stairs,
At court, nay, (authors say) at prayers -
The funeral of some valiant knight
May give this thing its proper light.
View his two gauntlets; these declare
That both his hands were used to war;
And from his two gilt spurs 'tis learn'd
His feet were equally concern'd:
But have you not with thought beheld
The sword hang dangling o'er his shield?
Which shows the breast that plate was used to
Had an ally right arm to trust to;
And by the peep holes in his crest,
Is it not virtually confess'd
That there his eye took distant aim,
And glances respect to that bright dame,
In whose delight his hope was center'd,
And for whose glove his life he ventured?
Objections to my general system
May rise, perhaps, and I have miss'd them;
But I can call to my assistance
Proximity (mark that!) and distance;
Can prove that all things, on occasion,
Love union, and desire adhesion!
That Alma merely is a scale,
And motives, like the weights prevail.
If neither side turn down or up,
With loss or gain, with fear or hope,
The balance always would hang even,
Like Mahomet's tomb, 'twixt earth and heaven.
This, Richard, is a curious case:
Suppose your eyes sent equal rays
Upon two distant pots of ale,
Not knowing which was mild or stale;
In this sad state your doubtful choice
Would never have the casting voice;
Which best nor worst you could not think,
And die you must for want of drink,
Unless some chance inclines your sight,
Setting one pot in fairer light;
Then you prefer or A or B,
As lines and angles best agree;
Your sense resolved impels your will;
She guides your hand - So drink your fill.
Have you not seen a baker's maid
Between two equal panniers sway'd?
Her tallies useless lie and idle
If placed exactly in the middle;
But forced from this unactive state
By virtue of some casual weight,
On either side you hear them clatter,
And judge of right and left hand matter.
Now, Richard, this coercive force
Without your choice must take its course.
Great kings to wars are pointed forth
Like loaded needles to the North,
And thou and I, by power unseen,
Are barely passive and suck'd in
To Henault's vaults or Celia's chamber,
As straw and paper are by amber.
If we sit down to play or set,
(Suppose at Ombre or Basset)
Let people call us cheats or fools,
Our cards and we are equal tools,
We sure in vain the cards condemn;
Ourselves both cut and shuffled them:
In vain on Fortune's aid rely;
She only is a stander-by.
Poor men! poor papers! we and they
Do some impulsive force obey,
Are but play'd with - do not play.
But space and matter we should blame;
They palm'd the trick that lost the game.
Thus to save further contradiction
Against what you may think but fiction,
I for attraction, Dick, declare,
Deny it those bold men that dare.
As well your mention as your thought
Is all by hidden impulse wrought:
Even saying that you think or walk,
How like a country squire you talk?
Mark then; - Where fancy or desire
Collects the beams of vital fire,
Into that limb fair Alma slides
She dwells in Nicholini's tongue,
When Pyrrhus chants the heavenly song;
When Pedro does the lute command,
She guides the cunning artist's hand;
Through Macer's gullet she runs down,
When the vile glutton dines alone;
And, void of modesty and thought,
She follows Bibo's endless draught,
Through the soft sex again she ranges,
As youth, caprice, or fashion, changes:
Fair Alma, careless and serene,
In Fanny's sprightly eyes is seen.
While they diffuse their infant beams,
Themselves not conscious of their flames.
Again, fair Alma sits confess'd
On Florimel's experter breast,
When she the rising sigh constrains,
And by concealing speaks her pains.
In Cynthia's neck fair Alma glows,
When the vain thing her jewels shows;
When Jenny's stays are newly laced
Fair Alma plays about her waist;
And when the swelling hoop sustains
The rich brocade, fair Alma deigns
Into that lower space to enter,
Of the large round herself the center.
Again; that single limb or feature
(Such is the cogent force of Nature)
Which most did Alma's passion move,
In the first object of her love,
For ever will be found confess'd,
And printed on the amorous breast.
O Abelard! ill-fated youth,
Thy tale will justify this truth;
But well I weet thy cruel wrong
Adorns a nobler poet's song,
Dan Pope, for thy misfortune grieve!,
With kind concern and skill has weaved
A silken web, and ne'er shall fade
Its colours gently: as he laid
The mantle o'er thy sad distress,
And Venus shall the texture bless.
He o'er the weeping nun has drawn
Such artful folds of sacred lawn,
That Love, with equal grief and pride,
Shall see the crime he strives to hide,
And softly drawing back the veil,
The god shall to his votaries tell
Each conscious tear, each blushing grace,
That deck'd dear Eloisa's face.
Happy the poet, bless'd the lays,
Which Buckingham has deign'd to praise.
Next, Dick, as youth and habit sways,
A hundred gambols Alma plays.
If, whilst a boy, Jack run from school,
Fond of his hunting-horn and pole,
Though gout and age his speed detain,
Old John halloos his hounds again:
By his fireside he starts the hare,
And turns her in his wicker chair.
His feet, however lame, you find,
Have got the better of his mind.
If, while the Mind was in her leg,
The dance affected nimble Peg,
Old Madge bewitch'd, at sixty-one
Calls for Green Sleeves and Jumping Joan.
In public mask or private ball,
From Lincoln's-inn to Goldsmith's-Hall,
All Christmas long away she trudges,
Trips it was 'prentices and judges;
In vain her children urge her stay,
And age or palsy bar the way:
But if those images prevail,
Which whilom did affect the tail,
She still reviews the ancient scene,
Forgets the forty years between;
Awkwardly gay, and oddly merry,
Her scarf pale pink, her headknot cherry,
O'erheated with ideal rage,
She cheats her son to wed her page.
If Alma, whilst the man was young,
Slipp'd up too soon into his tongue,
Pleased with his own fantastic skill,
He lets that weapon ne'er lie still;
On any point if you dispute,
Depend upon it he'll confute:
Change sides, and you increase your pain,
For he'll confute you back again:
For one may speak with Tully's tongue,
Yet all the while be in the wrong;
And 'tis remarkable that they
talk most who have the least to say.
Your dainty speakers have the curse
To plead bad causes down to worse;
As dames who native beauty want,
Still uglier look the more they paint.
Again: if in the female sex
Alma should on this member fix,
(A cruel and a desperate case,
From which Heaven shield my lovely lass!)
For ever more all care is vain
That would bring Alma down again.
As in habitual gout or stone,
The only thing that can be done
Is to correct your drink and diet,
And keep the inward foe in quiet;
So if, for any sins of ours,
Or our forefathers, higher powers,
Severe, though just, afflict our life,
With that prime ill, a talking wife,
Till death shall bring the kind relief,
We must be patient or be deaf.
You know a certain lady, Dick,
Who saw me when I last was sick;
She kindly talk'd, at least three hours,
Of plastic forms and mental powers;
Described our pre-existing station,
Before this vile terrene creation;
And, lest I should be wearied, Madam,
To cut things short, came down to Adam;
From whence, as fast as she was able,
She drowns the world, and builds up Babel:
Through Syria, Persia, Greece, she goes,
And takes the Romans in the close.
But we'll descant on general Nature;
This is a system, not a satire.
Turn we this globe, and let us see
How different nations disagree,
In what we wear, or eat, and drink;
Nay, Dick, perhaps in what we think.
In water as you smell and taste
The soils through which it rose and past,
In Alma's manners you may read
The place where she was born and bred.
One people from their swaddling-bands
Released their infants' feet and hands:
Here Alma to these limbs was brought
And Sparta's offspring kick'd and fought.
Another taught their babes to talk
Ere they could yet in go-carts walk:
There Alma settled in the tongue,
And orators from Athens sprung.
Observe but in these neighbouring lands
The different use of mouth and hands:
As men reposed their various hopes,
In battles these, and those in tropes.
In Britain's isles, as Heylin notes,
The ladies trip in petticoats,
Which, for the honour of their nation,
They quit but on some great occasion,
Men there in breeches clad you view;
They claim that garment as their due.
In Turkey the reverse appears;
Long coats the haughty husband wears,
And greets his wife with angry speeches,
If she be seen without her breeches.
In our fantastic climes the fair
With cleanly powder dry their hair,
And round their lovely breast and head
Fresh flowers their mingled odours shed:
Your nicer Hottentots think meet
With guts and tripe to deck their feet;
With downcast looks on Totta's legs
The ogling youth most humbly begs
She would not from his hopes remove
At once his breakfast and his love;
And if the skittish nymph should fly,
He in a double sense must die.
We simple toasters take delight
To see our women's teeth look white,
And every saucy ill-bred fellow
Sneers at a mouth profoundly yellow
In China none hold women sweet,
Except their snags are black as jet:
King Chihu put nine queens to death,
Convict on statute, ivory teeth.
At Tonquin, if a prince should die,
(As Jesuits write, who never lie)
The wife, and counsellor, and priest,
Who served him most, and loved him best,
Prepare and light his funeral fire,
And cheerful on the pile expire.
In Europe 'twould be hard to find
In each degree on half so kind.
Now turn we to the farthest East,
And there observe the gentry drest.
Prince Giolo and his royal sisters,
Scarr'd with ten thousand comely blisters,
The marks remaining on the skin,
To tell the quality within:
Distinguish'd flashes deck the great,
As each excels in birth or state;
His oylet-holes are more and ampler:
The king's own body was a sampler.
Happy the climate where the beau
Wears the same suit for use and show;
And at a small expense your wife,
If once well pink'd, is cloath'd for life.
Westward again, the Indian fair
Is nicely smear'd with fat of bear:
Before you see you smell your toast,
And sweetest she who stinks the most.
The finest sparks and cleanest beaux
Drip from the shoulders to the toes.
How sleek their skins, their joints how easy!
There slovens only are not greasy.
I mention'd different ways of breeding;
Begin we in our children's reading,
To master John the English maid
A hornbrook gives of gingerbread,
And that the child may learn the better,
As he can name he eats the letter;
Proceeding thus with vast delight,
He spells and gnaws from left to right.
But show a Hebrew's hopeful son
Where we suppose the book begun,
The child would thank you for your kindness,
And read quite backward from our
Devour he learning ne'er so fast,
Great A would be reserved the last.
An equal instance of this matter
Is in the manners of a daughter.
In Europe if a harmless maid,
By Nature and by Love betray'd,
Should ere a wife become a nurse,
Her friends would look on her the worse.
In China, Dampier's Travels tell ye,
(Look in his index for Pagelli)
Soon as the British ships unmoor,
And jolly long-boats row to shore,
Down come the nobles of the land,
Each brings his daughter in his hand,
Beseeching the mysterious tar
To make her but one hour his care:
The tender mother stands affrighted,
Les her dear daughter should be slighted,
And poor Miss Yaya dreads the shame
Of going back the maid she came.
Observe how custom, Dick, compels
The lady that in Europe dwells:
After her tea she slips away,
And what to do one need not say.
Now see how great Pomonque's queen
Behaved herself amongst the men;
Pleased with her punch, the gallant soul
First drank, then water'd in the bowl,
And sprinkled in the captain's face
The marks of her peculiar grace. -
To close this point we need not roam
For instances so far from home.
What parts gay France from sober Spain?
A little rising rocky chain.
Of men born south or north o' the hill,
Those seldom move, these ne'er stand still.
Dick, you love maps, and may perceive
Rome not far distant from Geneve.
If the good Pope remains at home,
He's the first prince in Christendom.
Choose then, good Pope, at home to stay,
Nor westward, curious, take thy way:
Thy way, unhappy, shouldst thou take
From Tiber's bank to Leman lake,
Thou art an aged priest no more,
But a young flaring painted bunny:
Thy sex is lost, thy town is gone;
No longer Rome, but Babylon.
That some few leagues should make this change,
To men unlearn'd seems mighty strange.
But need we, friend, insist on this?
Since, in the very Cantons Swiss,
All your philosophers agree,
And prove it plain, that one may be
A heretic or true believer,
On this or t'other side the rive.
Here, with an artful smile, quoth Dick -
Your proofs come mighty full and thick -
The bard, on this extensive chapter,
Wound up into poetic rapture,
Continued: Richard, cast your eye
By night upon a winter sky;
Cast it by day-light on the strand,
Which compasses fair Albion's land;
If you can count the stars that glow
Above, or sands that lie below,
Into these common places look,
Which from great authors I have took,
And count the proofs I have collected,
To have my writings well protected:
These I lay by for time of need,
And thou may'st at thy leisure read:
For standing every critic's rage,
I safely will, to future age
My system as a gift bequeath,
Victorious over spite and death.
- quotes about equality
- quotes about cleaning
- quotes about United Kingdom
- quotes about travel
- quotes about Europe
- quotes about Greece
- quotes about literature
- quotes about honor
What is love
Love is just a world. Love is a feel. Love is strong. Love can make do things that you thought you will never do. Love makes you happy. For love you would give everything to be happy. Love make like your flying. For love people can live with out eat or drink. Love is give. Love can make you give up something so that person you love can be happy. Love makes you grow up. When you fall in love grow up because you think about the other person feel. Love makes different size and shaped of world. People not choose who to love and love come when you not think about. Love is everything. Without love the world will be like living in bad place to live.
When I Say
I know youve got some pain to share
Like anybody else around
Each one of us a cross to bare
And then some day you may drown
Will run away do all youve got to do
Within you sacrifices
For your soul is in chains how could you fly
Dont give up and do not cry
When those demons get you
Ill be yours till the end of time
Please believe me when I say youll be fine
The circonstances are so unfair
Some days you walk on shaky ground
The trouble man is always there
For every moment you go down
You can no longer hide
Or run away do all youve got to do
Your sorrows over now
Arround your wounds begin your peace of mind
Dont give up and do not cry
When those demons get you
Ill be yours till the end of time
Please believe me when I say youll be fine
I Wish I Could Say That
Hello, it was good to get your call
You havent changed at all
Youre the same as far as I can tell
No way, I see something in your face
Someones filled the empty space in your life
Well, Im glad to hear youre doing well.
I wish I could say that but Id be lying
Im still not over the fact
That you stopped trying
It was easy for you to just let go
Of all we had
I wish I could say that.
What? Do you mean theres no one new
Its my memory haunting you
Now you want the things we had back then
Inside theres a part of you
Thats still loving me and always will
Til the end and youd like to see us try again.
I wish I could say that but Id be lying
Im still not over the fact
That you stopped trying
It was easy for you to just let go
Of all we had
I wish I could say that...
Such a beautiful
You wore it with clever
Intentions to lull her.
You knew it was my favorite.
You'd chuckle as you'd brave it.
She charmed and disarmed you
Before you could start.
You'd drown in your tears.
Though she'd fade with years.
That smile above that purple
Before you'd regret.
You'd smile for her.
Dying, though you were.
I left with
Your wallowing sickness gave me
You seem far away.
Despite what you'd say.
I lost all
What one girl
You Picked Me Up
You picked me up not so long ago
gave me a reason to carry on.
You gave me hope and determination
when I thought all that was gone.
You had the drive I had the ambition
and you urged me every step along the way,
but now I am losing you
and I am so far away.
I know I cannot get back to you
before the Lord takes you away.
I can only sit and worry
at what you are going through.
My heart stretches out across the miles
hoping it could be there
to comfort you as a friend
when you need comfort the most.
Heaven is calling out for you
to take you away from family and friends
and I can only sit here and remember
how you picked me up not so long ago.
9 April 2012
This was written for a good friend who lives in Canada and I went to school with and who is now dying of cancer. She got me back into writing again five years ago.
This Worldwide Economic Depression
This Worldwide economic depression humanity will survive
And joblessness and a lower standard of living will not quell the sexual drive
A gift from Nature to humans more humans to create
There is more to sexual pleasure than the urge to copulate
With that your children are an extension of your ego you well may not agree
Though without this thing called ego less births it would seem to me
Is it Nature gave us ego for the survival of our D N A?
Mine is only one opinion and make of it what you may
This Worldwide economic depression will not slow the birth rate down
In search of work young people will leave their village to move to the bigger town
To add to the urban population in numbers growing by the day
Climate change a bigger threat to humanity than economic depression far more so in every way
But times harder for all poor people when the economy is slowing
As the gap between the haves and have nots does keep steadily on growing.
No one realizes
When will some one realize?
There is really big prize
When you reach so near
There won't be left any fear
What if you don’t believe?
To whom you approach for blessings to give?
Who can guide you with divine spirit?
No one if you strictly go by it
What do we build on earth?
Leave it behind after death
What do we carry then alter on?
Where there is nothing to own
Did you see even season’s change?
Sun too change direction with direction and manage
Days become shorter or longer
Still we fail to realize it any longer
Believe it not and leave to fate
You may get everything very late
You have no joy to enjoy or state
You may fail to locate the gate
You will be confined to prison
Even though without any reason
Only some unforeseen blessings may come to rescue
Otherwise you were not worthy to get that due
The world is perishable commodity
So body is also of not permanent durability
It may decay and perish in no time
You may have no time to cry sometimes
There will come a time when everything will have to end
When all the wrong youve done will be your only friend
and as the clock runs down you start to lose control
No one can save you now because you sold your soul
God wants to know - what you thin think youre doing
God wants to know - what is it youve done
God wants to know - did you hear the warning
I want to know - will I be the one?
Judgement days here - now its time to meet your maker
Judgement days here - heaven or hell one will take ya
Judgement days here - think about the life youve led
Judgement days here - yeah! yeah!
Why do you try to hide, you cant escape your past
Youre not the first to sin and you will not be the last
Just do for others what you want done back to you
Cause if youre positive, God will see you through
The time is coming and the world is gonna blow
and only God decides exactly where well go
take my advice and listen to the words I say
If you live righteous then your life will be okay
chorus and chorus-out
Love Is Blind
Love is blind- it has no barriers, it has no time.
It has no eyes with which to see
It has no voice to call on me.
It just has an inner strength, on which it depends
To say if the love is right or wrong
Which will make it weak or strong.
Love is blind it can not see
It can not say what the future hold for me.
I felt I was falling deeper into the depths
Of her eyes, like a whirlpool pulling me in
Deeper and deeper and no end in sight
No matter how I struggled I was losing this fight.
I decided to let go and face what was ahead
For in her love I was dead.
In stead she lifted me up high into space
Where I could see the love in her face.
Love has no crystal ball or a guiding star
It can not see if it is near or far.
Love doesn’t come when you call its name
It has no face, it has no shame.
It matters not if you’re young or old.
Love is strong, love is bold.
It will touch the coldest heart and make it melt
Bring out feelings you never felt.
Love knows no color or religious belief
It just makes your spirit find relief.
Love can control you, no matter what
You may think or say.
Love in your soul is here to stay.
Love is blind, but love is sweet
It is this worlds biggest treat.