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Cartooning is an honorable thing.

quote by Bill Sienkiewicz
Added by Lucian Velea
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Please Keep The Pain

please keep the pain
do not attempt to throw pain away
please be patient
do not scream do not tell the neighbors

do not shame pain by running wildly on the streets
screaming about your pain
please do not create a scandal for this
honorable family in pain

please keep the pain for a while and be honorable
there is decency in pain
keep this pain with a clean face on a smooth disposition
let your arms lay there
appease the pain
as though pain is a baby that you want to put to sleep

soon it will go
nothing is permanent in this world
nothing will last forever
the pain may not subside but soon it will have its right time
it decides to go by itself
there is no choice

we will have this pain too
our pains in silence
because we are honorable too
you will never know
we will never tell you we are decently in pain too

we are honorable
we do not make presumptions that we will survive
but we will
these pains that make us decent and honorable

our faces will not show these pains
we will not even tell
we just keep them without complaining
we are decent we are honorable
we are the survivors

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Honourable Mheshimiwa(part three)

From the emptiness of Shagz
A lone voice cries
Begging and beseeching
Beseeching and requesting
Requesting and asking for one thing
Justice!

Honorable Mheshimiwa sighs and says
‘Yes! Justice! ’
The human rights watchdogs
Hiss and fuss
In a quick rejoinder

‘Hey! Justice? Mheshimiwa?
MP? Professor...
Let me puke before I proceed...
Honorary doctor of peace
Didn’t you steer, stimulate
Support and strengthen violence in Shagz! ’’

The international community storms in
Pushing pressurizing ‘n demandin’
‘Justice! Mheshimiwa must be tried, sentenced..In? ...
Yes! Justice must pace in’
The honorable Mheshimiwa barks
‘That’s neocolonialism
An attempt to character assassinate me
Me, I, myself and my allies
We shall unite
And fight…fight...fight
And eliminate
Our enemies’

Honorable Kanzu
Join hands with the Mheshimiwa
To fight ‘their’ opponents

A dry and husky voice implores
‘Excuse me honorable Kanzu
I’m your constituent and was violently evicted from Shagz
For the past fortnight
Fighting for my survival in the tent
Has been my rite…(maybe I have no right)
As you dwell dine n wine
With the mighty Mheshimiwa et al

Honorable Kanzu retorts angrily
‘Shhh! shut up before I spit n shit on you
Con man!
You want to dupe a super duper

[...] Read more

poem by Ibrahim Tendera Oroni
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Women IV. a prise poem for women

Life without life it's not life
Almost every one will remember
Day and night is cycle of life
Life on its own is not matured
I reiterate well spoken words
Hence its admiral, the day i recognize the significant role of women

Some women can bless the day indeed
with their smiles
with their Assimilate of culture admiral
with high concentration of moral fiber

These are the women of integrity
I talk nothing else but
Women like Nthabiseng Mthethwa
Women like Mapaseka Dlamini
Women like Sebolelo Mokoena
Women like Elsie Moganedi
Look around they are there
To reconstitute norms and Values.

I call them women of integrity

As Harley barley, there are honorable women
Full of high concentration of moral fiber
They adhere to walk the walks
And talk the talks; they are extraordinary in every aspect
Women like Delsile Hlophe
Women like Nonhlanhla Ndlovu
Women like Ellah Ngomane
Women like Whitey Mahlangu
Chronically they remain transparent

I call them honorable women of integrity

Fair remain fair as long as it's fair
There are extraordinary women
They are living in their time
And they are in time with their integrity
They deserve honor as they live it
Perfectionism is not enough
They remain constant and consistent
Women like Mapule Tshabalala
Women like Sara Mahlangu
Women like Selina Madihlaba
They are extraordinary women they deserve their Honor
I fore one applaud them for inherent of their heredity

There are women who are making difference
Printing their footprints

[...] Read more

poem by Jacques Sprenkie Mateya
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So cartooning, for me, is an honorable thing. It's pushing the envelope. It's the truth of something through exaggeration.

quote by Bill Sienkiewicz
Added by Lucian Velea
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Be honorable yourself if you wish to associate with honorable people.

Welsh proverbs
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To many a man, and sometimes to a youth, there comes the opportunity to choose between honorable competence and tainted wealth. The young man who starts out to be poor and honorable, holds in his hand one of the strongest elements of success.

quote by Orison Swett Marden
Added by Lucian Velea
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Exhuming Mccarthy

Youre beautiful more beautiful than me
Youre honorable more honorable than me
Loyal to the bank of america
Its a sign of the times
Its a sign of the times
Youre sharpening stones, walking on coals
To improve your business acumen.
Sharpening stones, walking on coals,
To improve your business acumen.
Vested interest united ties, landed gentry rationalize
Look who bought the myth, by jingo, buy america
Its a sign of the times
Its a sign of the times
Youre sharpening stones, walking on coals
To improve your business acumen.
Sharpening stones, walking on coals,
To improve your business acumen.
Enemy sighted, enemy met, Im addressing the realpolitik
Look who bought the myth, by jingo, buy america
let us not assassinate this man further senator,
Youve done enough. have you no sense of decency, sir?
At long last, have you left no sense of decency?
Youre sharpening stones, walking on coals
To improve your business acumen.
Sharpening stones, walking on coals,
To improve your business acumen.
Enemy sighted, enemy met, Im addressing the realpolitik
Youve seen start and youve seen quit
(Im addressing the table of content)
I always thought of you as quick
Exhuming mccarthy
(meet me at the book burning)
Exhuming mccarthy
(meet me at the book burning)

song performed by REM
Added by Lucian Velea
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No evil is honorable: but death is honorable; therefore death is not evil.

quote by Citium Zeno
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A long marathon

I am participating in long marathon
It was decided and desired to be won
Not a loose attempt was to be made
Though there was strict criteria laid

Many more may find it enterprising
It was not at all sudden or surprising
Every time it brought certain level of perfection
The media is so powerful and integrated section

Two hundred long poems in stipulated period
So many things to be taken care off and avoid
All ways time bound action and strict adherence
It was nightmare with very good reference

I am quite used to such a long poems
There has to be strong and very good themes
Not always you get the set ideas of current nature
Still it is perfectly suiting to the future

Finally it is approaching the dead end
Good response from friends and feelers are sent
I was thoroughly preoccupied and very much alert
I took it as preparation well before the concert

It looks nice to have come at honorable position
Not all the poems may be of good composition
But still it represents a fair view of imagination
Coupled with human sufferings and inclination

Not enough satisfaction can be given to all
It may not be considered also a positive call
It will be befitting try if something is appreciated
Not in some kind but by way of prizes to be decorated

It is immaterial how competitions are won
It is also irrelevant to know how it might have gone
The actual thing may come when name is taken into account
All worries and tension may cease and dismount

I feel relieved and heave a sigh of relief
It was battle of nerves and good belief
The views, otherwise can not be put across
How many hurdles and passes to be attempted to cross

The end is well whose beginning is well
The success story may reveal or tell
Not the piece of paper or prizes will be sufficient
How much great feelings you have as recipient

[...] Read more

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A woman needs...

What woman really does need in life?
Merely to stay in house as wife
Carry out normal activities throughout
Should know nothing what the life all about!

Suffer throughout the life with uncertainty
Voice muffled and no respect for purity
Used as object and authorized medium for nudity
Abused and shamed on the count of plurality

You can’t have any say or particular choice
Complete observance of silence with no noise
Do they have no right to surge ahead and poise?
Can any one clear their role and help to rise?

Right from the beginning she has all the restrictions to face
She is not encouraged to have active participation in any race
She may be adored in the people’s eyes but is that sufficient?
Is it not the simple excuse or termed it as proper and convenient?

We call our selves as civilized society and belong to liberal land
Still molestation, rape, murder and so on with conniving hands
No honorable treatment or public out cry against atrocity?
For name sake some good work just to show it as publicity

What does she expect from her lover at the first?
Is that simple gesture to accept her in good trust?
Should that remain as mere spoken words with no surety?
It is must and accepted as norms of civilized society

Women needs to be raised to an honorable status
There is nothing like addition or deletion with plus or minus
They have to be there by virtue of their being in whole set up
There should be no other option or any let up

They need reassurance with full commitment
There has to be full fledged action and no comments
It has to be our endeavor to grant them what they fully deserve
Think of a world and its condition if women properly not serve

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Eternal Circle

Now, a visitor from somewhere right outside this Mundane Ball
Do not ask me where he came from, for that point's not clear at all;
For he might have been an angel, or he might have come from Mars,
Or from any of the other of the fixed or unfixed stars.
As regards his mental make-up he was much like you or me;
And he toured about the country, just to see what he could see.

Well, this superhuman person was of most inquiring mind,
And 'twas noted, from his questions, he was very far from blind,
And the striking thing about him was his stern, compelling eye,
That demanded Truth ungarbled when he paused for a reply.
And, despite the mental wriggles of the folk he interviewed,
When they placed the Truth before him she was ab-so-lutely nude.

At our Civilised Society he stared in some amaze,
As he muttered his equivalent for 'Gosh!' or 'Spare me days!'
For our cherished modes and customs knocked him sideways, so to speak.
'To solve,' said he, 'this mystery, now whither shall I seek?
For a sane and sound solution I must question those on high,'
Said this extra-mundane being with the stern, compelling eye.

Now, his methods were intelligent - I confess,
For he started with our Politics, religion and the Press.
Thus, he read a morning paper through, intently, ev'ry leaf,
Then hied him out to interview the editor-in-chief:
'They say that Truth lives in a well,' he muttered as he went;
'But her well is not an inkwell, I will lay my last lone cent.'

It chanced he found the editor unguarded and alone
At the office of the paper - 'twas the MORNING MEGAPHONE.
'Now, I take it,' said the visitor, 'you represent the Press,
That great Public Educator?' And the pressman murmured, 'Yes.'
'Yet in yesterday's edition I perceived a glaring lie!
How's this?' He fixed the pressman with his stern, compelling eye.

Then the editor he stammered, and the editor he 'hemmed'
And muttered things like 'Gracious me!' and likewise, 'Well, I'm demned!'
But the lady Truth came tripping, all undressed and unashamed;
'Oh, I own it!' cried the editor. 'But how can I be blamed?
There's our blighted advertisers and our readers - Spare my grief!
But we've got to please the public!' moaned the editor-in-chief.

'Now to interview a statesman and consider his reply,'
Said this strange Select Committee with the stern, compelling eye.
And the Honorable Member for Mud Flat he chanced to find
In a noble Spring-street building of a most palatial kind.
And the Honorable Member viewed his visitor with awe,
For he surely had the most compelling eye you ever saw.

'Now, then, tell me,' said the visitor; 'you are a man of State,

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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We have failed to care

As progressing society we have failed to care
The destitute and left over have no place to go anywhere
They have remained aloof and neglected
As fellow brethren we have never respected

They have expected no better treatment
Not good and sweet words with fine comments
Some caring words might have done miracle
They have no where to go other than their circle

We can blame only social structure
They have no secured future
It has remained so even after many centuries
For them there is no justice from juries

The orphanage receive unwelcome guests
The unwanted souls are left at the gates
Only little cry may invite some attention
This is only holy place for their retention

It is flooded day by day with no proper means
There is no proper care or even good meals
They might have to lead life which is barren
There is no love from any quarter even

What can we do to over come such state?
They can not be left to their fate
It is black spot on our social system
The evil comes out from the stem

Nice slogans are written for children
Their life is full of agony and very barren
What is their future in the hands unknown?
They are messenger of God and as such known

We do realize the shameless position for parents
It may be compulsion or very pressing event
They are put to compulsory shame
Else their might be ill fame with bad name

The state may take over the responsibility
Still it may lack amenities and basic facilities
Nothing may be made available for the paucity of funds
As no bright prospectus or future is seen as refund

Many countries have facilitated single mothers by law
They can lead honorable life and society too allow
Still their life is miserable and are looked upon as shame
Men are roaming free and only ladies share the blame

[...] Read more

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Joy To Egypt, Joy To The World

The honorable People are excited and jubilant.
Finally, the grumpy octogenarian tyrant
Has stepped down.
Long live Egypt! Down, down
Down with the thirty year old dictatorship!
The country is hopefully embarked on the ship
Of Democracy, Justice, and Fairness.
God’s willing, this is the end of the ugliness
Of corruption, nepotism and arbitrary arrest.
With all my heart, I wish the best,
Not only to Egypt, but also to the entire region.
Facebook, Twitter, Blackberry and the Internet played
A phenomenal role in this revolution.
The people were resilient, they could not be swayed
To change their focus, which was to dethrone the dictator.
For eighteen hard and grueling days, they were willing
To either live free or die standing.
At times, death, the ultimate sacrifice and horror,
Is the only way to obtain liberty and freedom
From brutal and oppressive kingdom.
The people have spoken and they had reached their goal.
Let’s pray that the military understand the toll,
The courage and sacrifices that the protesters had to endure,
In order to liberatate, to force or even to lure
The roaring lion into giving up.
When the honorable People stand up,
For the goodness and the future of their country,
Great leaders or sincere patriots must listen.
The Tunisian and Egyptian revolutions should serve as a lesson
For the others in the Mediterranean Sea,
And for the rest of the world.
This is not the end of the struggle, we have to wait and see
What tomorrow will bring to this swirled,
Unpredictable and volatile environment.
The good People are joyous, excited and jubilant.
Long live freedom, long live democracy!
Our world deserves peace, justice, liberty,
Compassion, honesty, equality
Greater sensitivity and prosperity.
It is time for the old regimes to set sail,
Good judgment and youth will always prevail.

poem by Hebert Logerie (11 February 2011)
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The Mayaguez Incident

Look and find our names upon The Wall,
Hargrove, Hall and Marshall were our names.
We were three men that were left behind,
three Marines still owed honorable graves.

Marines took back the hijacked Mayaguez
and recovered all her crewmen safe and well
But while our mission accomplished its objective
The Ninth Marines were ferried into hell.

The helicopters took us to the island,
Koh Tang, in the Southern China sea
The Khmer Rouge were dug in on the island
prepared for an assault from air or sea.

They say it was a failure of Intelligence-
The crew of The Mayaguez was moved before
The 2nd battalion forces first were landed
Upon that hostile beach, that deadly shore

Lieutenant Col. Randall Austin was commanding
Our perimeter was shrinking by the hour
Our landing force had taken heavy losses
Some died upon the beach, more drowned offshore.

It happened in perimeter reduction
we three men were forgotten in our hole.
When Helicopters flew the rest to safety
We were left behind on the atoll.

Some say we died that day, some say after
Reports are we were tortured and then killed.
Some claim we were forgotten by our nation.
But our names are on The Wall- you never will.

Look and find our names upon The Wall,
Hargrove, Hall and Marshall were our names.
We were three men that were left behind,
three Marines still owed honorable graves.

On May 15,1975, two weeks after the last Americans fled Saigon, the men of the fourth
and Ninth Marines were ordered to retake the U.S.S. Mayaguez and rescue her crew. The
ship had been seized by elements of the Khmer Rouge of Cambodia. It was mistakenly
believed that the crew were being held hostage on Koh Tang Island, Cambodia. While
the 4th Marines Delta Company successfully boarded and retook the Mayaguez, the ninth
Marines were landing on the beach at Koh Tang. Officially, the second battalion of the
Ninth Marine Regiment lost 18 dead,41 wounded and three MIA. In addition 7 of 8
assault helicopters that took part in the original assault were destroyed.
This last battle of the Vietnam War era was a tragedy of errors. The Marines were sent to

[...] Read more

poem by John F. McCullagh
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Who Is Now Reading This?

count yourself blessed
if you are reading this?
you are the rare few
who actually read others' poetry
nobody is serious about other people's life anyway
poetry reading is being noosy
an orphan in an alleyway
tries to look for a
home sweet home
count yourself doubled blessed
if you fully understand any poem
for poets write for themselves
if a poet says he writes for others
he is probably a liar
after money probably
count yourself blessed for having learnt this
for among the millions of poets
there are poets in lost alleys
trying to find a piece of themselves
the lane that runs to treasures of heart and mind
verses springing from the sanctity of the soul
many slip on the make belief lane
throwing words, phrases helter skelter
a child that tries to plant fiction in non fiction
offering honorable readers
a half baked cake nobody would take
the heaven sounds out the genius though
each of his word gets you revved up
each of the words offers a
a spectacle into real sights, sounds, tastes
and smells
the honorable readers know the fakes
from the real - just so instinctively
real words never lie
the diamond detector never fails

inspired by

Who Is Now Reading This?
May-be one is now reading this who knows some wrong-doing of my past
life,
Or may-be a stranger is reading this who has secretly loved me,
Or may-be one who meets all my grand assumptions and egotisms with
derision,
Or may-be one who is puzzled at me.
As if I were not puzzled at myself!
Or as if I never deride myself! (O conscience-struck! O self-
convicted!)
Or as if I do not secretly love strangers! (O tenderly, a long time,
and never avow it ;)

[...] Read more

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Dense, Shallow and Dim

They may have graduated!
And may have been declared educated...
With top grades and honorable degrees.

They are taught to shake hands,
With poise as they stand.
And give sincere eye contact...
With the best of spoken English,
That identifies an ability
They have been groomed to regurgitate...
With assumed and unresearched facts.

They are challenged to do their best...
For purposes to produce for them big fat checks!
They are encouraged to socialize...
For an increase of status,
And a marketable name recognition that's prized!

But no one wants to criticize...
Their lack of common sense!
They seem not able to find it in books.
And for them a quality of life,
Grows more dense, shallow and dim!
For them who concentrate more on looks.

These are the future leaders now groomed...
By those with set values too long observed.
Those who prefer to sit and predict doom!
And not daring to teach or stretch these minds,
Beyond the 'hand-me-down' standards
Taught and confined,
In antiquated classrooms!

Leaving them with little...
Or nothing to use to successfully compete.
As they constantly compared themselves,
To people living in hunger...
Sympathized on TV,
Or ignored as they snob them on urban streets!

They may have graduated!
And may have been declared educated...
With top grades and honorable degrees.
But they are not the ones to lead,
With a wholesomeness needed to succeed!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Darker Shade Of Grey~

No lofty idealizations-
No honorable chivelry spread
Flickering in the candle light
Are passions words-unsaid;
For we know not why...
That guilt oft' desert's one's mind
Leaving null and void a space-
For musings one simply cannot find;
Revelation's oft' spell the course
Of a hidden footsteps grey path
Bathed in a camoflauge of utter pretense
Masking the Ravens inner wrath;
Utterly driven is he...
Who surmises the world of a wrong? ! ?
His own justice he delivers-
With his riddle-filled dirge droned song;
Alas, no lofty idealizations
No honorable chivelry spread
Alone in the muddy waters of his river
That overflow in his delusion filled head;
The voices haunt him day and night...
All the while restored
Following other's to a T
His dark justice for those abhored;
'Round Robin's Glen
A face appears in God's Light
A warning to all of the wrong in Mother Natures song;
Soon hidden again by the night
Shadows form in the late daylight hours
They follow his every motion
They-the Guardians of the fortified tower...
Keep calm, everyone-his target is the pristine ocean;

By, Theodora Onken

November 23,2012

poem by Theodora Onken
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He Comes From A Different Culture

He comes from a different culture the tall dark one with such a great smile
And he finds it so hard to settle here so far from the banks of the Nile
He cannot speak the English language the tongue of this Southern Land
And that he feels he is an outsider ought not be hard to understand.

Tall and lean he looks very athletic and like a runner quite light on his feet
But he is not known as a sportsman and he never was an athlete
A young man in his early twenties and so gentle in his own quiet way
He speaks just a few words of English and two of those words are 'good day'

War and famine ravage his Homeland and for him 'twas not a safe place
And he fled just like many others to live far from his clan and race
To smile to him comes rather easily and he seems untainted by guile
But in his dark eyes there's a longing for the distant banks of the Nile.

My sympathies with the poor fellow he seems such an honorable bloke
He came to this Country a pauper financially dependant and broke
From his tribe to a refugee camp and life for him downhill all of the way
One hopes for him a better future though in that he doesn't have a say.

In this City his life is so different nostalgia is such a strange thing
Amongst his tribe and his family he felt happy and good memories of the past to him cling
Back home everybody was special and here he's just one more refugee
To smile to him it may come easy but the sadness in his eyes one see.

He comes from a different culture and of this culture not much he knows
And here he must feel an outsider but one might say that's life I suppose
He is such an honorable fellow yet how sad his life for him must be
And life is not meant to be easy for any poor Stateless Refugee.

poem by Francis Duggan
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The Lamentable Ballad Of The Foundling Of Shoreditch

Come all ye Christian people, and listen to my tail,
It is all about a doctor was travelling by the rail,
By the Heastern Counties' Railway (vich the shares I don't desire),
From Ixworth town in Suffolk, vich his name did not transpire.

A travelling from Bury this Doctor was employed
With a gentleman, a friend of his, vich his name was Captain Loyd,
And on reaching Marks Tey Station, that is next beyond Colchest-
er, a lady entered into them most elegantly dressed.

She entered into the Carriage all with a tottering step,
And a pooty little Bayby upon her bussum slep;
The gentlemen received her with kindness and siwillaty,
Pitying this lady for her illness and debillaty.

She had a fust-class ticket, this lovely lady said,
Because it was so lonesome she took a secknd instead.
Better to travel by secknd class, than sit alone in the fust,
And the pooty little Baby upon her breast she nust.

A seein of her cryin, and shiverin and pail,
To her spoke this surging, the Ero of my tail;
Saysee you look unwell, Ma'am, I'll elp you if I can,
And you may tell your ease to me, for I'm a meddicle man.

'Thank you, Sir,' the lady said, 'I only look so pale,
Because I ain't accustom'd to travelling on the Rale;
I shall be better presnly, when I've ad some rest:'
And that pooty little Baby she squeeged it to her breast.

So in the conwersation the journey they beguiled,
Capting Loyd and the meddicle man, and the lady and the child,
Till the warious stations along the line was passed,
For even the Heastern Counties' trains must come in at last.

When at Shoreditch tumminus at lenth stopped the train,
This kind meddicle gentleman proposed his aid again.
'Thank you, Sir,' the lady said, 'for your kyindness dear;
My carridge and my osses is probibbly come here.

'Will you old this baby, please, vilst I step and see?'
The Doctor was a famly man: 'That I will,' says he.
Then the little child she kist, kist it very gently,
Vich was sucking his little fist, sleeping innocently.

With a sigh from her art, as though she would have bust it,
Then she gave the Doctor the child—wery kind he nust it:
Hup then the lady jumped hoff the bench she sat from,
Tumbled down the carridge steps and ran along the platform.

[...] Read more

poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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The So Called Honorable

For to cling to power or for need of power on most policies they disagree
Between the Government and their Opposition there's does not seem much difference to me
Those out of power verbally attack those in power that is how it's been for years
Who wins or loses the Election should not be cause for joy or tears.

Who is in or out of power I for one do not care
That they do not bring change to my life for the good I am all too aware
Democracy is the best form of Government by many we are told
But the workings of Parliament has not changed from the long gone days of old.

Of the praises of Democratically Elected Governments many feel happy to sing
But in Parliament that Parliamentarians obliged to vote with their own parties does not seem a democratic thing
And that the Party or Parties elected by the majority of the voters makes decisions for everyone
Is hardly true democracy when all is said and done.

The hierarchy refer to Parliamentarins as the honorable a title he or she for life does keep
But such a title for most Politicians makes the word honor seem cheap
Like dysfunctional adolescents in Parliament every day
Supposed to be honorable men and women behave in a most immature way.

poem by Francis Duggan
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