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I condemn everyone and anyone who commits acts of terrorism. And Hamas has committed acts of terrorism.

quote by Feisal Abdul Rauf
Added by Lucian Velea
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Committed

committed! !
me and my boyfriend have made a pact
we are committed and thats the fact
he will not screw any other women apart from me
and i will not seduce anyone else apart from him

committed! !
we will be a heathy twosome or so it seems
with this thought in our mind our relationship will gleam
yes sir we are a committed bunch
the world will sing praises of our relationship
the world will stand and admire our friendship

committed! !
he will screw me till his hearts content
as i behind his back will screw all his friends
he on the other hand will bang all my friends
yes sir we are a committed and our relationship is as firm as steel

committed! ! !
it's a word not to be taken lightly
it's the bed rock of all relationships strong and mighty
yes indeed we are committed
he can't screw anyone and i ca'nt be promiscious it's not permitted
we are so so very committed

committed! !
yes sir committed indeed
we are the two us sailin merreyly in our ship
when he is angry with me he does the maid
when i am upset with him i get laid

committed! !
we are thinck as thives
till his money runs out and i have fullfilled all my needs
oh sir we are so so so very committed....................

poem by Anuj Tikku
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With A Motive Not To Be Provoked

There are people with a motive,
To be...
Left alone.
And many are to this committed.
Many are to this committed.

And there are people more devoted,
To keep their peace condoned.
And many are to this committed.
Many are to this committed.

To get away from all the alibis.
And those who live their lives making up lies.
With so many to this committed.
As if there's benefit in it.
To change what they say in a minute.
This limits and this diminishes.
This limits and this diminishes.

People have a motive,
To be...
Alone!
And doing this free without limits.
And doing this free without limits.
And doing this free without limits.
And doing this free without limits.

To get away from all the alibis.
And doing this free without limits.
And doing this free without limits.

And those who live their lives making up lies.
To change what they say in a minute.
And doing this free without limits.
And doing this free without limits.

There are people with a motive,
To be...
Left alone.
And many are to this committed.
Many are to this committed.
And doing this free without limits.
And doing this free without limits.
Doing this free without limits.
Doing this free without limits.

There are people with a motive,
To be...
Left alone.
And many are to this committed.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Love Song for Hamas

['In Gaza, Fiery Insults to Jews Complicate Peace Efforts' - New York Times,1st April 2008]

['Here lie the killer and the killed,
asleep in one hole' - Mahmoud Darwish]

So Hamas think(s?) that as a Jew
I'm a pig
I don't think so, for pigs don't think
Ho Ho
I take more seriously
The charge that I'm an ape
It certainly bears thinking of, not least
By a Darwin-loving ape like me -

Darwinian Jewish Ape....
Darwinian Ape Jew?

You might be on to something there, Hamas
You can whip my back
And kick me in the ass
If I'm ever on my knees.

Most eloquent and serious of all
Is the Hamas (is that plural?) claim
That I as Jew am 'enemy of G-d'
Well, in my Porcine-Simian view
Her Existence is not obvious
What kind of enemy would I be
Doubting his foe's existence?

And if G-d is, then I'll be
Her wholly faithful animal friend
And give thanks to the Almighty
For making me a Jew
For creating this 'Hamas'
To ensure that I'm reminded of
Exactly what I am.

By the way - or centrally
I'm sorry on behalf of Jews
For occupation of holy land
Of Gaza, shootings of civilians
Destruction of their homes and olive groves
Imprisonment of brave and foolish men

And for driving them to murder and to hate.

Clever of apes and pigs to do all that
Not wise of them, not nice at all

[...] Read more

poem by Frank Bana
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Barack Being Ambushed

I could see Barack Obama
to a wall (street) being pushed.
If slammed this way by a slammer,
he could claim he’s been amBushed,
but if driven quite insane
by peace processes where none
exist, men might claim that Hussein
a victory at last had won,
becoming not his middle name,
but first. We’ll have to wait and see,
and hope that BHO won’t game
with Jews as does the BBC,
but if we see Obama’s shove
transformed from pseudo-friendly push,
we’ll have to reconsider love,
while reminiscing about Bush.

Inspired by Thomas Friedman’s column in the NYT, January 7,2009 (“The Mideast’s Ground Zero”) :
Hamas’s overthrow of the more secular Fatah organization in Gaza in 2007 is part of a regionwide civil war between Islamists and modernists. In the week that Israel has been slicing through Gaza, Islamist suicide bombers have killed almost 100 Iraqis — first, a group of tribal sheikhs in Yusufiya, who were working on reconciliation between Shiites, Sunnis and Kurds, and, second, mostly women and children gathered at a Shiite shrine. These unprovoked mass murders have not stirred a single protest in Europe or the Middle East. Gaza today is basically ground zero for all three of these struggles, said Martin Indyk, the former Clinton administration’s Middle East adviser whose incisive new book, “Innocent Abroad: An Intimate Account of American Diplomacy in the Middle East, ” was just published. “This tiny little piece of land, Gaza, has the potential to blow all of these issues wide open and present a huge problem for Barack Obama on Day 1.” Obama’s great potential for America, noted Indyk, is also a great threat to Islamist radicals — because his narrative holds tremendous appeal for Arabs. For eight years Hamas, Hezbollah and Al Qaeda have been surfing on a wave of anti-U.S. anger generated by George W. Bush. And that wave has greatly expanded their base. No doubt, Hamas, Hezbollah and Iran are hoping that they can use the Gaza conflict to turn Obama into Bush. They know Barack Hussein Obama must be (am) Bushed — to keep America and its Arab allies on the defensive. Obama has to keep his eye on the prize. His goal — America’s goal — has to be a settlement in Gaza that eliminates the threat of Hamas rockets and opens Gaza economically to the world, under credible international supervision. That’s what will serve U.S. interests, moderate the three great struggles and earn him respect.

1/7/09

poem by Gershon Hepner
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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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Solomon on the Vanity of the World, A Poem. In Three Books. - Power. Book III.

The Argument

Solomon considers man through the several stages and conditions of life, and concludes, in general, that we are all miserable. He reflects more particularly upon the trouble and uncertainty of greatness and power; gives some instances thereof from Adam down to himself; and still concludes that All Is Vanity. He reasons again upon life, death, and a future being; finds human wisdom too imperfect to resolve his doubts; has recourse to religion; is informed by an angel what shall happen to himself, his family, and his kingdom, till the redemption of Israel; and, upon the whole, resolves to submit his inquiries and anxieties to the will of his Creator.

Come then, my soul: I call thee by that name,
Thou busy thing, from whence I know I am;
For, knowing that I am, I know thou art,
Since that must needs exist which can impart:
But how thou camest to be, or whence thy spring,
For various of thee priests and poets sing.

Hearest thou submissive, but a lowly birth,
Some secret particles of finer earth,
A plain effect which Nature must beget,
As motion orders, and as atoms meet,
Companion of the body's good or ill,
From force of instinct more than choice of will,
Conscious of fear or valour, joy or pain,
As the wild courses of the blood ordain;
Who, as degrees of heat and cold prevail,
In youth dost flourish, and with age shalt fail,
Till, mingled with thy partner's latest breath,
Thou fliest, dissolved in air and lost in death.

Or, if thy great existence would aspire
To causes more sublime, of heavenly fire
Wert thou a spark struck off, a separate ray,
Ordain'd to mingle with terrestrial clay,
With it condemn'd for certain years to dwell,
To grieve its frailties, and its pains to feel,
To teach it good and ill, disgrace or fame,
Pale it with rage, or redden it with shame,
To guide its actions with informing care,
In peace to judge, to conquer in the war;
Render it agile, witty, valiant, sage,
As fits the various course of human age,
Till, as the earthly part decays and falls,
The captive breaks her prison's mouldering walls,
Hovers awhile upon the sad remains,
Which now the pile or sepulchre contains,
And thence, with liberty unbounded, flies,
Impatient to regain her native skies?

Whate'er thou art, where'er ordain'd to go,
(Points which we rather may dispute than know)
Come on, thou little inmate of this breast,
Which for thy sake from passions'l divest
For these, thou say'st, raise all the stormy strife,

[...] Read more

poem by Matthew Prior
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Henry And Emma. A Poem.

Upon the Model of The Nut-Brown Maid. To Cloe.

Thou, to whose eyes I bend, at whose command
(Though low my voice, though artless be my hand.
I take the sprightly reed, and sing and play,
Careless of what the censuring world may say;
Bright Cloe! object of my constant vow,
Wilt thou a while unbend thy serious brow?
Wilt thou with pleasure hear thy lover's strains,
And with one heavenly smile o'erpay his pains?
No longer shall the Nut-brown Maid be old,
Though since her youth three hundred years have roll'd:
At thy desire she shall again be raised,
And her reviving charms in lasting verse be praised.

No longer man of woman shall complain,
That he may love and not be loved again;
That we in vain the fickle sex pursue,
Who change the constant lover for the new.
Whatever has been writ, whatever said
Henceforth shall in my verse refuted stand,
Be said to winds, or writ upon the sand:
And while my notes to future times proclaim
Unconquer'd love and ever-during flame,
O, fairest of the sex, be thou my muse;
Deign on my work thy influence to diffuse:
Let me partake the blessings I rehearse,
And grant me love, the just reward of verse.

As beauty's potent queen with every grace
That once was Emma's has adorn'd thy face,
And as her son has to my bosom dealt
That constant flame which faithful Henry felt,
O let the story with thy life agree,
Let men once more the bright example see;
What Emma was to him be thou to me:
Nor send me by thy frown from her I love,
Distant and sad, a banish'd man to rove:
But, oh! with pity long entreated crown
My pains and hopes: and when thou say'st that one
Of all mankind thou lovest, oh! think on me alone.

Where beauteous Isis and her husband Thame
With mingled waves for ever flow the same,
In times of yore an ancient baron lived,
Great gifts bestowed, and great respect received.

When dreadful Edward, with successful care
Led his free Britons to the Gallic war,

[...] Read more

poem by Matthew Prior
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Terrorism

Terrorism
Youre writing your diary in innocents blood
Youre vain and youre ugly, youre no robin hood
You dont steal from the rich to help the poor
You just take life from both and what is more
You break your bread and drink
But post-confession youll still stink of
Terrorism
Terrorism
But youre sikh, jew, muslim and christian, you say
Now which religion will you wear today?
And in whose Bible do you find your cause
That says bomb children in department stores?
I hope your God is pleased
To see all creation on their knees for
Terrorism
Terrorism
Angel of death with black woolen mask
Freedom they bring you is a long wooden cask
They never doubt that right is on their side
When right is rifle-shaped where can you hide?
Dont want daughter sweet
To be target practice in the high street
Terrorism

song performed by Xtc
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Terrorism (home Demo)

Terrorism
You're writing your diary in innocents' blood
You're vain and you're ugly, you're no Robin Hood
You don't steal from the rich to help the poor
You just take life from both and what is more
You break your bread and drink
But post-confession you'll still stink of
Terrorism
Terrorism
But you're Sikh, Jew, Muslim and Christian, you say
Now which religion will you wear today?
And in whose Bible do you find your cause
That says bomb children in department stores?
I hope your god is pleased
To see all creation on their knees for
Terrorism
Terrorism
Angel of death with black woolen mask
Freedom they bring you is a long wooden cask
They never doubt that right is on their side
When right is rifle-shaped where can you hide?
Don't want daughter sweet
To be target practice in the high street
Terrorism

song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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We Are Accused Of Terrorism

We are accused of terrorism
If we dare to write about the remains of a homeland
That is scattered in pieces and in decay
In decadence and disarray
About a homeland that is searching for a place
And about a nation that no longer has a face

About a homeland that has nothing left of its great ancient verse
But that of wailing and eulogy

About a homeland that has nothing in its horizons
Of freedoms of different types and ideology

About a homeland that forbids us from buying a newspaper
Or listen to anything
About a homeland where all birds are always not allowed to sing
About a homeland that out of horror, its writers are using invisible ink

About a homeland that resembles poetry in our country
Improvised, imported, loose and of no boundaries
Of foreign tongue and soul
Detached from Man and Land, ignoring their plight as a whole

About a homeland to the negotiating table moves
Without a dignity or shoes

About a homeland
That no more has steadfast men
With only women therein

Bitterness is in our mouthsin our talkin our eyes
Will draught also plague our souls as a legacy passed to us
from ancient times?

Our nation has nobody left, even the less glorified
No one to say 'NO' in the face of those who gave up our
homebread and butter
Turning our colorful history into a circus

We have not a single honest poem
That has not lost its virginity in a ruler's Harem

We grew accustomed to humiliation
Then what is left of Man
If he is comfortable with that?

I search the books of history
For men of greatness to deliver us from darkness
To save our women from fires' brutality

[...] Read more

poem by Nizar Qabbani
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Samson Agonistes (excerpts)

[Samson's Opening Speech]
A little onward lend thy guiding hand
To these dark steps, a little further on;
For yonder bank hath choice of sun or shade,
There I am wont to sit, when any chance
Relieves me from my task of servile toil,
Daily in the common prison else enjoin'd me,
Where I a prisoner chain'd, scarce freely draw
The air imprison'd also, close and damp,
Unwholesome draught: but here I feel amends,
The breath of Heav'n fresh-blowing, pure and sweet,
With day-spring born; here leave me to respire.
This day a solemn feast the people hold
To Dagon, their sea-idol, and forbid
Laborious works; unwillingly this rest
Their superstition yields me; hence with leave
Retiring from the popular noise, I seek
This unfrequented place to find some ease;
Ease to the body some, none to the mind
From restless thoughts, that like a deadly swarm
Of hornets arm'd, no sooner found alone,
But rush upon me thronging, and present
Times past, what once I was, and what am now.
O wherefore was my birth from Heaven foretold
Twice by an angel, who at last in sight
Of both my parents all in flames ascended
From off the altar, where an off'ring burn'd,
As in a fiery column charioting
His godlike presence, and from some great act
Of benefit reveal'd to Abraham's race?
Why was my breeding order'd and prescrib'd
As of a person separate to God,
Design'd for great exploits; if I must die
Betray'd, captiv'd, and both my eyes put out,
Made of my enemies the scorn and gaze;
To grind in brazen fetters under task
With this Heav'n-gifted strength? O glorious strength
Put to the labour of a beast, debas'd
Lower than bondslave! Promise was that I
Should Israel from Philistian yoke deliver;
Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him
Eyeless in Gaza at the mill with slaves,
Himself in bonds under Philistian yoke.
Yet stay, let me not rashly call in doubt
Divine prediction; what if all foretold
Had been fulfill'd but through mine own default,
Whom have I to complain of but myself?
Who this high gift of strength committed to me,
In what part lodg'd, how easily bereft me,
Under the seal of silence could not keep,

[...] Read more

poem by John Milton
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Transformation Inquisition Saul Into Paul Of Tarsus

What caused miraculous;
transformation inquisition
Saul into Paul of Tarsus?

Saul had previously hated persecuted;
Jews who converted to Christianity
with fanatical deadly holocaust passion?

Infamous Saul of Tarsus;
had one crazed goal
for all followers of Jesus.

To capture then bring to public trial execution;
all Christians he could lay his hands on.
Saul an elite member of the Sanhedrin even

instigated approved ancient equivalent;
of vigilante mob lynchings public stonings.
Saul actively present when first Christian

martyr Stephen was by an angry mob killed;
assumed responsibility of guarding clothes
of all who zealously to death stoned Stephen.

For is it not written?
'At this they covered their ears
and, yelling at the top of their voices,

they all rushed at him, (Stephen)
dragged him out of the city and began
to stone him. Meanwhile, the witnesses

laid their clothes at the feet
of a young man named Saul.
While they were stoning him, Stephen

prayed, 'Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.'
Then he fell on his knees
and cried out, 'Lord, do not hold this sin

against them.' When he had said this,
he fell asleep. (To death Stephen
was by the mob executed.) Acts 7: 57-60.

What did Saul think what then were his actions?
'Saul was there, giving approval to his death' Saul
for his part approved the mob murder of Stephen. Acts 8: 1.

Saul like a ravenous wolf after Stephen was martyred;
went door to door in Jerusalem finding Jews to arrest

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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One-eyed Hound

Mister youve been caught at last
Chasing dogs in the moonlight
This man committed a sin
This man he never can win
Mister youve got one more chance
If you catch the hound when the sun shines
This man committed a sin
This man he never can win
And its all gone wrong
Night is the time for chasing the one-eyed hound
And its all been tried before
Night is the time for chasing the one-eyed hound
Have you seen the one-eyed hound?
Tell me where hes going
This man committed a sin
This man he never can win
Every place that I have been
No-one else has seen him
This man committed a sin
This man he never can win
And its all gone wrong
Night is the time for chasing the one-eyed hound
And its all been tried before
Night is the time for chasing the one-eyed hound
Everybodys telling me exactly where to go
This man committed a sin
This man he never can win
People call and people talk
But they dont reach agreement
This man committed a sin
This man he never can win
And its all gone wrong
Night is the time for chasing the one-eyed hound
And its all been tried before
Night is the time for chasing the one-eyed hound
Night is the time for chasing the one-eyed hound

song performed by Genesis
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Be There...To Love. Committed

Be there...
To love.
Committed.
Preferences and love,
Do not mix.
There is no chemistry in it.
Not in an foreverness.
If this is expected to exist.

Be there...
To love.
Committed.
Quickly forgive and forget,
Arguments.
Adjust and submit.
Being alone and in love,
Is rarely admitted.

Be there...
To love.
Committed.
Resolve conflicts.
Have none of it.
Don't let love drift.
Where is the benefit,
When loneliness visits.

Be there...
To love.
Committed.
Quickly forgive and forget,
Arguments.
Adjust and submit.
Being alone and in love,
Is rarely admitted.

Be there...
To love.
Committed.
Preferences and love,
Do not mix.
There is no chemistry in it.
Not in an foreverness.
If this is expected to exist.

Be there...
To love.
Committed.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Am Life

I am...
Committed.
To unlimitness to give it.
I am...
Seeking to be free.
Yeah.

I am...
Committed.
To unlimitness to give it.
And to admit...
The benefit.

I am...
Committed.
To unlimitness to give it,
And this seems to fit...
Me,
Just perfectly.

Yes, I am...
Committed.
To unlimitness to give it.
With a happiness to give and get.

I am...
Devoted to possibilities.
Oh,
I am...
Sleepless until I attempt to reach.
I am...
Committed.
To unlimitness to give it.
I am...
Devoted to possibilities.
Oh,
I am...
Committed.
To unlimitness to give it.
I am...
Sleepless until I attempt to reach.
Oh,
I am...
Sleepless until I attempt to reach.
Yes, I am...
Life.

And, I am...
Not a substitution.
I am...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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The Corsair

'O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our soul's as free
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam,
Survey our empire, and behold our home!
These are our realms, no limits to their sway-
Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey.
Ours the wild life in tumult still to range
From toil to rest, and joy in every change.
Oh, who can tell? not thou, luxurious slave!
Whose soul would sicken o'er the heaving wave;
Not thou, vain lord of wantonness and ease!
whom slumber soothes not - pleasure cannot please -
Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried,
And danced in triumph o'er the waters wide,
The exulting sense - the pulse's maddening play,
That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way?
That for itself can woo the approaching fight,
And turn what some deem danger to delight;
That seeks what cravens shun with more than zeal,
And where the feebler faint can only feel -
Feel - to the rising bosom's inmost core,
Its hope awaken and Its spirit soar?
No dread of death if with us die our foes -
Save that it seems even duller than repose:
Come when it will - we snatch the life of life -
When lost - what recks it but disease or strife?
Let him who crawls enamour'd of decay,
Cling to his couch, and sicken years away:
Heave his thick breath, and shake his palsied head;
Ours - the fresh turf; and not the feverish bed.
While gasp by gasp he falters forth his soul,
Ours with one pang - one bound - escapes control.
His corse may boast its urn and narrow cave,
And they who loath'd his life may gild his grave:
Ours are the tears, though few, sincerely shed,
When Ocean shrouds and sepulchres our dead.
For us, even banquets fond regret supply
In the red cup that crowns our memory;
And the brief epitaph in danger's day,
When those who win at length divide the prey,
And cry, Remembrance saddening o'er each brow,
How had the brave who fell exulted now!'

II.
Such were the notes that from the Pirate's isle
Around the kindling watch-fire rang the while:
Such were the sounds that thrill'd the rocks along,
And unto ears as rugged seem'd a song!
In scatter'd groups upon the golden sand,
They game-carouse-converse-or whet the brand:

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poem by Byron
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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto I

THE ARGUMENT

The Knight and Squire resolve, at once,
The one the other to renounce.
They both approach the Lady's Bower;
The Squire t'inform, the Knight to woo her.
She treats them with a Masquerade,
By Furies and Hobgoblins made;
From which the Squire conveys the Knight,
And steals him from himself, by Night.

'Tis true, no lover has that pow'r
T' enforce a desperate amour,
As he that has two strings t' his bow,
And burns for love and money too;
For then he's brave and resolute,
Disdains to render in his suit,
Has all his flames and raptures double,
And hangs or drowns with half the trouble,
While those who sillily pursue,
The simple, downright way, and true,
Make as unlucky applications,
And steer against the stream their passions.
Some forge their mistresses of stars,
And when the ladies prove averse,
And more untoward to be won
Than by CALIGULA the Moon,
Cry out upon the stars, for doing
Ill offices to cross their wooing;
When only by themselves they're hindred,
For trusting those they made her kindred;
And still, the harsher and hide-bounder
The damsels prove, become the fonder.
For what mad lover ever dy'd
To gain a soft and gentle bride?
Or for a lady tender-hearted,
In purling streams or hemp departed?
Leap'd headlong int' Elysium,
Through th' windows of a dazzling room?
But for some cross, ill-natur'd dame,
The am'rous fly burnt in his flame.
This to the Knight could be no news,
With all mankind so much in use;
Who therefore took the wiser course,
To make the most of his amours,
Resolv'd to try all sorts of ways,
As follows in due time and place

No sooner was the bloody fight,
Between the Wizard, and the Knight,

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poem by Samuel Butler
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Days will prove that the assassination policy will not finish the Hamas. Hamas leaders wish to be martyrs and are not scared of death. Jihad will continue and the resistance will continue until we have victory, or we will be martyrs.

quote by Ahmed Yassin
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The Hamas has taken the path of avoiding causing harm to Zionist interests outside of Palestine, not from weakness or lack of ability to do so, but because Hamas does not wish for further fronts to be opened against it around the world.

quote by Ahmed Yassin
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