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Scholars will argue with each other about everything.

quote by Peter Jennings
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Phenomenons Studied

Phenomenons studied by scholars,
Are...
Stunning phenomenons never undone.

Phenomenons studied by scholars,
Are...
Stunning phenomenons never undone.

Mysteries lived to exist,
Are...
Phenomenons never undone.
And,
The more they're probed confusion sits.
Because we don't see us a part of this.

Why are we here to be neighbors?
With confusion that we can't resist.
Why can't we accept our differences?
Without trying to end conflicts.
Why the fighting to exist...
In a peacefulness ruled by one fist.

Phenomenons studied by scholars,
Are...
Stunning phenomenons never undone.

Phenomenons studied by scholars,
Are...
Stunning phenomenons never undone.

And why are obelisks ignored?
Why are they there and who are they for?
What is that energy they feed?
And what is it that we can't see?
What is the purpose and the need?

Phenomenons studied by scholars,
Are...
Stunning phenomenons never undone.

Mysteries lived to exist,
Are...
Phenomenons never undone.
And,
The more they're probed confusion sits.
Because we don't see us a part of this.

What blind eye has to open?
To fix what has been broken.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There are successful scholars, public-spirited scholars, upright scholars, cautious scholars, and those who are merely petty men.

quote by Xun Zi
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Don't

Don't!
Don't... don't you wish we tried?
Do you feel what I feel inside?
You know our love is stronger than pride... oh
No don't... don't let your anger grow
Just tell me what you need me to know
Please talk to me, don't close the door
Hmmm, 'cause I wanna hear you
I wanna be near you
[Chorus]
Don't fight, don't argue
Give me the chance to say that I'm sorry
Just let me love you
Don't turn me away
Don't tell me to go
Don't!... Don't give up on trust
Don't give up on me, on us
If we could just hold on long enough
Hmmm, we can do it
we'll get through it
[Chorus]
Don't fight, don't argue
Just give me the chance to say that I'm sorry
Just let me love you
Don't turn me away, don't tell me to go
Don't pretend that it's okay
Things won't get better that way
Don't do something you might regret someday...
Don't!
[dobro solo, instrumental]
Don't give up on me
Hmm, Don't!
(We can do it) We'll get through it
[Chorus]
Don't fight, don't argue
Just give me the chance to say that I'm sorry
Just let me love you
Don't turn me away, don't tell me to go
Don't! (Don't fight dont argue)
Don't give up on me
(Give me the chance to say that I'm sorry)
Say that that I'm sorry
(Just let me love you)
Don't give up on me
(Don't turn me away)
Don't tell me to go
Don't!
(Don't fight don't argue)
Don't give up on me
(Give me the chance to say that I'm sorry)

[...] Read more

song performed by Shania Twain
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VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator

Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!

It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold
Our little yearly lovesome frolic feast,
Cinuolo's birth-night, Cinicello's own,
That makes gruff January grin perforce!
For too contagious grows the mirth, the warmth
Escaping from so many hearts at once—
When the good wife, buxom and bonny yet,
Jokes the hale grandsire,—such are just the sort
To go off suddenly,—he who hides the key
O' the box beneath his pillow every night,—
Which box may hold a parchment (someone thinks)
Will show a scribbled something like a name
"Cinino, Ciniccino," near the end,
"To whom I give and I bequeath my lands,
"Estates, tenements, hereditaments,
"When I decease as honest grandsire ought."
Wherefore—yet this one time again perhaps—
Shan't my Orvieto fuddle his old nose!
Then, uncles, one or the other, well i' the world,
May—drop in, merely?—trudge through rain and wind,
Rather! The smell-feasts rouse them at the hint
There's cookery in a certain dwelling-place!
Gossips, too, each with keepsake in his poke,
Will pick the way, thrid lane by lantern-light,
And so find door, put galligaskin off
At entry of a decent domicile
Cornered in snug Condotti,—all for love,
All to crush cup with Cinucciatolo!

Well,
Let others climb the heights o' the court, the camp!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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Lost legion for Friend Thad

The earth beneath the desert sun is baked to shades of brown and dun.
A sea of sand which ceaselessly moves with wind uneasily.
The land marks here are far and few but known by those belonging to the nomad bands who freely roam this sea of sand and call it home.
A people fierce and proud and free who guard their secrets ruthlessly.
Intruders are not welcome here; invaders simply disappear.
Their fate is very seldom known, the desert can protect its own
Whole Roman legions were erased their resting place cannot be traced.
The desert knows but will not speak some bones are found by those who seek
to solve the ancient mysteries. Perhaps rewrite the histories.
To validate their theories of how an army disappears.
without a clues as to their fate. A subject open to debate.

The desert sands move constantly, sometimes revealing teasingly
bleached bones and weapons on the sand which scholars strive to understand.
Does it matter anyway? Why do we seek to know today
what happened to the lost legion. Although the legend lingers on.
The desert will not satisfy our burning curiosity
The desert knows but will not share the scholars find this hard to bear.
The desert lands conceal with ease volumes of untold histories.
Which earnest scholars yearn to read, perhaps one day they will succeed.
But until then the burning sun will bake the earth to brown and dun
Maintaining its long secrecy in brooding silent dignity.

30-Dec-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Minutes of a day's work on the Bible

Around 1608; a pleasant day in Cambridge;
eight men sit round a table. Originally there were nine:
Dr Lively who presided at their speedy start
is now departed their distinguished company;
gave his lively life to this great enterprise, some say.

Among them still, the greatest of divines and
Hebrew scholars of their day.
This, the seventh version of the Bible
through its history; ‘seven times purified’
as the Bible says itself,
through Hebrew, Aramaic, Greek, Latin,
and English versions over centuries…

Since 1604, they’ve worked upon their
allotted section of the Bible; one sixth;
now they’re on the 'Canticles'; today
it’s Psalm 46: God is our hope and strength,
a very present help in trouble…

They have arrived now at the final verses:
God has stilled the warring armies
of the outer world; and now to still the inner world…

‘Lette goe; and knowe thatte I am Godde’..
that, the learned Hebrew scholars say,
is how it actually translates…

‘Bee stille and knowe..’ they find in earlier translation;
which command should they pass down
to centuries to come? Which sound tells the soul
the most, of its true nature? Or which sound will aid the soul
the quickest to return to its true self?

The scholars and divines, (all 54 of them in sum)
work at phenomenal, at godly, speed;
this is the great work of their lives;
‘Let go’; ‘Be still’ – which has more
the ring of soul’s eternity?

All have done their homework; rolled the words
around their tongue, their mind; heard them
uttered from the pulpit of their inner house of God;
a brief discussion; summary arms then raised in silent vote;

one command, they have agreed,
is for our present help in trouble, for
the moment now; the other is for ever;
the soul’s instruction from its peaceful self;
as God speaks to the angels, who

[...] Read more

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Best Years Of Out Lives

Where were going
Heaven knows
{were} lost and falling
And it shows
And I know you wont believe me
And I know it wont seem right
And I beg you just to leave me
When wed argue and wed fight
But even as we stumble
Through the darkness and the light
You know these were
The best years of our lives
Sent to hurt me
And you will
Tear the seasons
From the hill
And I know you wont believe me
And I know it wont seem right
And I beg you just to leave me
When wed argue and wed fight
But even as we stumble
Through the darkness and the light
You know these were
The best years of our lives
And I know you wont believe me
And I know it wont seem right
And I beg you just to leave me
When wed argue and wed fight
But even as we stumble
Through the darkness and the light
You know these were
The best years of our lives
And I know you wont believe me
And I know it wont seem right
And I beg you just to leave me
When wed argue and wed fight
But even as we stumble
Through the darkness and the light
You know these were
The best years of our lives

song performed by Omd
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A Map Of Culture

Culture

Contents

What is Culture?

The Importance of Culture

Culture Varies

Culture is Critical

The Sociobiology Debate

Values, Norms, and Social Control

Signs and Symbols

Language

Terms and Definitions

Approaches to the Study of Culture

Are We Prisoners of Our Culture?

What is Culture?

I prefer the definition used by Ian Robertson: 'all the shared products of society: material and nonmaterial' (Our text defines it in somewhat more ponderous terms- 'The totality of learned, socially transmitted behavior. It includes ideas, values, and customs (as well as the sailboats, comic books, and birth control devices) of groups of people' (p.32) .

Back to Contents

[...] Read more

poem by Nyein Way
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Hudibras: Part 1 - Canto III

THE ARGUMENT

The scatter'd rout return and rally,
Surround the place; the Knight does sally,
And is made pris'ner: Then they seize
Th' inchanted fort by storm; release
Crowdero, and put the Squire in's place;
I should have first said Hudibras.

Ah me! what perils do environ
The man that meddles with cold iron!
What plaguy mischiefs and mishaps
Do dog him still with after-claps!
For though dame Fortune seem to smile
And leer upon him for a while,
She'll after shew him, in the nick
Of all his glories, a dog-trick.
This any man may sing or say,
I' th' ditty call'd, What if a Day?
For HUDIBRAS, who thought h' had won
The field, as certain as a gun;
And having routed the whole troop,
With victory was cock a-hoop;
Thinking h' had done enough to purchase
Thanksgiving-day among the Churches,
Wherein his mettle, and brave worth,
Might be explain'd by Holder-forth,
And register'd, by fame eternal,
In deathless pages of diurnal;
Found in few minutes, to his cost,
He did but count without his host;
And that a turn-stile is more certain
Than, in events of war, dame Fortune.

For now the late faint-hearted rout,
O'erthrown, and scatter'd round about,
Chas'd by the horror of their fear
From bloody fray of Knight and Bear,
(All but the dogs, who, in pursuit
Of the Knight's victory, stood to't,
And most ignobly fought to get
The honour of his blood and sweat,)
Seeing the coast was free and clear
O' th' conquer'd and the conqueror,
Took heart again, and fac'd about,
As if they meant to stand it out:
For by this time the routed Bear,
Attack'd by th' enemy i' th' rear,
Finding their number grew too great
For him to make a safe retreat,

[...] Read more

poem by Samuel Butler
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No Need To Argue

Theres no need to aruge anymore
I gave all I could
But it left me so sore
And the thing that makes me mad
Is the one thing that I had
I knew, I knew, Id lose you
Youll always be special to me
And I remember all the
Things we once shared
Watching tv movies on
The living room armchair
But they say it will work out fine
Was it all a waste of time
Cause I knew, I knew, Id lose you
Youll always be special to me
Will I forget in time
You said I was on your mind
Theres no need to argue
No need to argue anymore
Theres no need to argue anymore
Special

song performed by Cranberries
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In the spirit of Rumi 44 -Between, lies beyond

Some men argue all their life
against predestination
Some men argue all their life
against free will

You argue with yourself all your life
about predestination and about free will
Wise men say that God is to be found
where opposites meet and are resolved

Between predestination and free will
is to be found belief.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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When I Argue I See Shapes

I'm not really sure of all this pressure,
i'm never going to lose any of my old letters
They'll stay with me, until i can see,
until i can see that i'm no-one
They'll stay with me, until i can see,
until i can see that i'm no-one
So don't slight it off cuz you'll be fined,
don't start slighting off cuz you'll be fined
All you ever do is build it up inside,
All you ever do is build it up inside
I'm not really sure of all this pressure,
i'm never going to lose any of my old letters
They'll stay with me, until i can see,
until i can see that i'm no-one
So don't slight it off cuz you'll be fined,
don't start slighting off cuz you'll be fined
All you ever do is build it up inside,
All you ever do is build it up inside
You smoke too much when you talk too much,
and when i argue syd barrett makes me laugh
I laugh at your conversational skills, or lack of
I laugh at your conversational skills, or lack of
I'm not really sure of all this pressure,
i'm never going to lose any of my old letters
They'll stay with me, until i can see,
until i can see that i'm no-one
They'll stay with me, until i can see,
until i can see that i'm no-one
So don't slight it off cuz you'll be fined,
don't start slighting off cuz you'll be fined
All you ever do is build it up inside,
All you ever do is build it up inside
You smoke too much when you talk too much,
and when i argue syd barrett makes me laugh
I laugh at your conversational skills, or lack of
I laugh at your conversational skills, or lack of
Cuz when i argue i see shapes (x10)
You smoke too much when you talk too much,-ac

song performed by Idlewild
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Rumour

(elton john/bernie taupin)
This is the last time
Ill look across this table
And try to face a feeling I dont even recognize
This is a sad hand
That reached across and touched you
When all wed built around us came crashing to the ground
There was a tide turning
Somewhere deep inside us
When all these years together seem lost behind my tears
Oh there were good times
But in between the dog days
I felt the pain of rumour whisper in my ears
But I still tried to love you
I still tried to care
Still tried to hold on with the power of my prayers
But you cant fight the rumour
You cant argue with you heart, no
Once the rumour spreads, once the rumour spreads
Once the rumour spreads, the truth is just a thing of the past
As the rain falls
I listen to the radio
And try to memorize the words to georgia on my mind
But were no old song
We never stood the test of time
The lies inside the rumour left trust so far behind
But I still tried to love you
I still tried to care
Still tried to hold on with the power of my prayers
But you cant fight the rumour
You cant argue with you heart, no
Once the rumour spreads, once the rumour spreads
Once the rumour spreads, the truth is just a thing of the past
And when we say goodbye
Be sure to look me in the eye
And know the real secret
Was the thing we didnt have to hide
But I still tried to love you
I still tried to care
Still tried to hold on with the power of my prayers
But you cant fight the rumour
You cant argue with you heart, no
Once the rumour spreads, once the rumour spreads
Once the rumour spreads, the truth is just a thing of the past
Once the rumour spreads, once the rumour spreads
The truth is just a thing of, its just a thing of
The truth is just a thing of the past

song performed by Olivia Newton-John
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My Boo

My Boo"
(feat. Alicia Keys)
[Usher intro:]
There's always that one person
That will always have your heart
You'll never see it coming
Cause you're blinded from the start
Know that you're that one for me
It's clear for everyone to see
Ooh baby ooh you'll always be my boo
[Alicia intro:]
I don't know bout cha'll
But I know about us and uh
This is the only way
We know how to rock
I don't know bout cha'll
But I know about us and uh
This is the only way
We know how to rock
[Usher Verse:]
Do you remember girl
I was the one who gave you your first kiss
Cause I remember girl
I was the one who said put your lips like this
Even before all the fame and
People screaming your name
Girl I was there when you were my baby
[Chorus:]
[Usher:]
It started when we were younger
You were mine my boo
Now another brother's taking over
But its still in your eyes my boo
Even though we used to argue it's alright
I know we haven't seen each other
In awhile but you will always be my boo
[Alicia:]
I was in love with you when we were younger
You were mine my boo
And I see it from time to time
I still feel like my boo
And I can see it no matter
How I try to hide my boo
Even though there's another man who's in my life
You will always be my boo
[Alicia Verse:]
Yes I remember boy
Cause after we kissed
I could only think about your lips
Yes I remember boy

[...] Read more

song performed by Usher
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Argument

Days that cannot bring you near
or will not,
Distance trying to appear
something more obstinate,
argue argue argue with me
endlessly
neither proving you less wanted nor less dear.

Distance: Remember all that land
beneath the plane;
that coastline
of dim beaches deep in sand
stretching indistinguishably
all the way,
all the way to where my reasons end?

Days: And think
of all those cluttered instruments,
one to a fact,
canceling each other's experience;
how they were
like some hideous calendar
"Compliments of Never & Forever, Inc."

The intimidating sound
of these voices
we must separately find
can and shall be vanquished:
Days and Distance disarrayed again
and gone...

poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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Just Walk Away

When you've given all you've got...
Just walk away.
Don't you dare to get uptight.
Just walk away.
If someone does not act right.
Just walk away.

Don't argue or defend,
When no one there is listening.

When you've given all you've got...
Just walk away.
Don't you dare to get uptight.
Just walk away.
If someone does not act right.
Just walk away.

Just walk away.
When no one there is listening.
Just walk away.
When no one there is listening.
Just walk away.

Don't argue or defend,
When no one there is listening.

Just walk away.
When no one there is listening.
Just walk away.
When no one there is listening.
Just walk away.

When you've given all you've got...
Just walk away.
Don't you dare to get uptight.
Just walk away.
If someone does not act right.
Just walk away.

Don't argue or defend,
When no one there is listening.

Just walk away.
When no one there is listening.
Just walk away.
When no one there is listening.
Do you just walk away.
Just walk away.
Just-walk-away.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Without Scheduling Nothing Gets Done

Sure...
I will argue with you.
Or debate on any topic you wish.
And there is no need to look surprised.
I am here for 'you'.
I want you to know that.

If you want to take the time with me,
To argue about your stupidity...
I will take the time to show you,
How stupid I use to be...
Before I realized time moves on.
And the time I'm finding now to waste with you,
Has already been scheduled on my 'Waste Of Time' list.

And I refer to this as stupidity,
Because that's exactly what this is.
'Stoo' with a 'pidity'.

And,
I don't want to hurry you.
But you do have three minutes left.
Out of the generosity of my heart,
I've given five people five minutes per week...
To waste a total of twenty five minutes of my time,
To argue or debate or 'whatever' it's called to do with me.

I've learned without scheduling nothing gets done!
Go!
We're on 'your' time.
Not mine.
You can stare as long as you wish.
But you've got two minutes left and that's it!

Don't test me.
I'm serious.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Unincorporated Insights

What context contributes toward meaning?
What illusive patterns outline our thoughts?
What process prevents mindless careening
Into tangles of intangible knots—
Into the depths of deeply-rooted seeds
Of imponderable definition?
And what flower does theodicy breed
By the threat of holistic omission?
What cryptic mysteries do we express,
Though in traces of vagrant memories—
Perhaps causing us to hide and repress
Them beneath our transient reveries?
What codex—so voiceless—do we create?
What emergent grammar elucidates?

What emergent grammar elucidates
The syntax of our juxtaposition?
Why must we meander and gravitate
Toward the pull of blank exposition?
We speak in indefinite articles,
Communicating as a formality?
Our dreams are overlapping particles,
Transposed over strips of reality.
Our intellects are woven by conflict,
Disproportionate threads that braid our lives.
Ideas coalesce to contradict
Where what we call logic attempts to thrive.
We design ignorance, always preening
The language that has been intervening.

The language that has been intervening
Interrupts the words we would like to say,
Mercilessly and stringently cleaning
Our voice, removing what viewpoints convey.
Therefore, we conjure the chiffon lexis:
A vagary of coded expressions
That dilute our colloquial axis—
Our terminology of discretion.
We relinquish comprehension and
Dilapidate whatever we might learn
In the grip of the Invisible Hand
Which guides us to our tenuous concerns.
All the while, idiocy saturates
With our illocutionary mandates.

With our illocutionary mandates,
Why does anyone make sense anymore?
Verbally, our tongue only translates
All the talk that has been spoken before.
We erase our culture with social platforms.

[...] Read more

poem by Tim Stensloff
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~A Tamil Woman`s Hedonism~

When brahmins they say they are i would say we brahminized them
If work makes them chauvinists i would argue we nationalized them
A section of conservative women who would perhaps never indianize
Representing the indian communion state speaking for shame no national language to vandalize
The highest rate of infidelity is their clan
No matter if marriage was their own choice or a family`s money saving plan
And their men if not extraordinary they would sell their women to bosses for a promotion glide
And argue in the bargain their not so enticing charm not enough for
the social joyride

And then the language what they argue to be aramaic
Its like when your motions get loosened by something called digestion toxic
Their men have privatized engineering with not much enthusiastic success
Most men are from other sides while they enjoyed a corrupt recess
The richest indian state is not theirs
And they could never fight any battle to be worthy motherlands heirs
Rice they are made up of what the east make them learn
And curd they mix in what they variated to earn
Coconuts and tamarinds are their veins and arteries
when the nation needs atomic and renewable energies bargaining worries
Very often many gets spams from this women
They say they have rich backgrounds, education to spin evil omen
They manage water of a river harvesting their usury of urine
And then passes buck claming others to be swine

Their clan of women are a nations liability
Their ugliness adds to only their mens mental complex instability
They have given the nation only curry leaves and curry boys
And terrorism to immigrate for jealousy and asylum convoys
Their best would never marry another indian culture and heritage
And asked reasons they brag their nasty adage
For money they would like become tempted slave a yours
So tainted they are that they would not bother to be corporate whores
To tame other rich community men they would hang jasmines in hair
Ask them if they have had build any technology any management productive to the world-
go they mute and no answer
This clan of women only uses men for petty success
Even if rupees have to exchange ringgits for official progress
This brand of women are a record most parasites
Like sulphates in cola and its combo in pesticides
Given a choice to be man i would never ride such black dirty hairy bushes
I would rather save my cowboy and ride a black Spanish Arab horse
even if a fountain of misfortune gushes

poem by Amit Ray
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Anthropology in general has always been fairly hospitable to female scholars, and even to feminist scholars.

quote by Clifford Geertz
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