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Hundreds of political prisoners still suffer in Tibetan prisons. Freedom of speech is not allowed in any sense. It is illegal to possess a photo of the Dalai Lama.

quote by Joanna Lumley
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The Dalai Lama Who Loved Wine, Women and Song

Here the May lilacs blossom in the garden
Their fragrance sprawls in the air of spring.

Yet my mind drifts on wings of a daydream
To a far away land of peach-treed valleys
Embraced by snow-capped mountains.

One night there on the Roof of the Earth
A young man in the holy city of Lhasa
Listened to the chanting of mantras
Not for the sake of enlightenment
But in order to sense her breath.

That month he span all the pray wheels
Not for the sake of freeing his soul
But in order to touch her finger prints.

That year he prostrated on the ground
With his hands clasping the earth
Not for the sake of adoring Buddha
But in order to sense her warmth.

That incarnation he crossed green forests
He passed through farmlands and deserts
He climbed a hundred thousand mountains
Not for the sake of afterlife
But in order to meet her on the road.

Who was this young man?

Descending from the Monpa Tribe
He was born in 1683 at Urgelling
In the Monastery near Tawang in India.

His parents gave him the name
Losang Rigdzin Tsangyang Gyatso
In the Tibetan language it means
Ocean of Melodious Songs.

His trunk of life was cut short though
Just a child yet and he became
Like an uncrowned king in the land
And even so he remained modest
Humble and unassuming.

He traveled about on foot
He kept no personal servants
He brewed his own tea
And served his guests himself.

[...] Read more

poem by Paul Hartal
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Universal Freedom Is......

Freedom from hunger and freedom from pain
freedom from loss and so freedom from gain.
Freedom to give and freedom to share
freedom from want and that of despair.

Freedom to think and freedom to know
freedom to achieve and freedom to grow.
Freedom from bondage and freedom of liberation
freedom from ignorance and any unknown situation.

Freedom to come and freedom to leave
freedom to stay and freedom to conceive.
Freedom from struggle and freedom of ease
freedom to enjoy and the capacity to please.

Freedom from failure and freedom of success
freedom from denial and freedom of access.
Freedom from illusion and freedom of reality
freedom to become what we are in actuality.

Freedom to live and freedom to die
freedom to laugh and freedom to cry.
Freedom to speak and freedom to listen
freedom to act based on a wise decision.

Freedom from hate and freedom of love
freedom of below and freedom of above.
Freedom of the past and freedom of the present
freedom of the future and what it can represent.

Freedom from war and freedom of peace
freedom to begin and freedom to cease.
Freedom from sickness and freedom of health
freedom from poverty and mishandled wealth.

Freedom from wrong and freedom being right
freedom of the day and freedom of the night.
Freedom to choose and freedom to reject
freedom to imagine what there is to expect.

Freedom from lust and freedom from greed
freedom from anger and freedom from breed.
Freedom from jealousy and freedom from pride
freedom from within and freedom from outside.
Freedom of always not having anything to hide.

Freedom from space and also freedom from time
freedom from attachment and freedom from crime
Freedom to work and freedom to play
freedom to believe and freedom to pray.

[...] Read more

poem by George Krokos
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Ghetto Prisioners

Nas]
Uhh.. regulate nigga
Bravehearts nigga
Live for this
Some of y'all don't live at all
Get yours nigga
Get yours baby
Uhh yo.. yo..
As the night close down on the Earth like gray dark rings
Light of cities in the nights destination for Kings
with big dreams like Castro overthrew Bautista
from Cuba and pointed nukes toward the U.S.
About to shoot us for revolution; that's how you gotta move
A lot of rules, some locked in solitude
Curse the day of they birth confused, who's to be praised?
The mighty dollar -- or almighty Allah
I'm like the farmer, plantin words, people are seeds
My truth is the soil; help you grow like trees
May the children come in all colors, change like leaves
but hold before you, one of those, prophetic MC's
with blunted flows, seven hundred souls in me
Each channelin, from past to present times, heaven shines
light on those, innocent to how the world grows
Some men become murderers, and some girls become hoes
And you accounted for, everything that you heard
Do not speak to fools; they scorn the wisdom of your words
My heart is wise, bloodshot eyes, the saga never dies
Ghetto prisoners rise rise rise
Ghetto prisoners rise rise rise
Ghetto prisoners rise rise rise
Ghetto prisoners rise rise rise
Ghetto prisoners..
Yo we gotta be God's children, habitats in tall buildings
Rats crawl in filthy hallways, incinerators
Sinners who faithless, still there's hope, pray it's answered
Dreams turned real - what's a wicked nation?
One with blind men - not takin charge of the situation
Empty arguments and real conversations needed
The world'll need it, to hear it
Evil tries to weaken my spirit - it's chronic herb
This hurt come from the honest word
I now try hardest to serve my maker, what I learned
find it's way on the paper, so I could dictate it
Articulate it, luckily - I was put on one of the ships that made it
through strong currents and winds that left the others stranded
to sink in the Atlantic
Satan jigs the planet, not to get too religious, but
who decides when and if your life is finished?
If Christ is in this, for the sake of your name, oh Lord
may we break away from the chains abroad

[...] Read more

song performed by Nas
Added by Lucian Velea
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Bama Lama Bama Loo

Bama Lama, Bama Loo
Got a gal named Lucinda
They call her the great pretender
Got a gal named Lucinda
They call her the great pretender
'Cause when she talks
She says Bama Lama, Loo
Welllllll, Bama Lama, Bama Loo
Bama Lama, Bama Loo
Bama Lama, baby, Bama Loo, yeah
Bama Lama, Bama Loo
The way she smiles, she drives me wild
Bama Lama, Bama Loo
Oh, yeah.....yoo....wah
Well, I asked my little baby for a kiss
She shook her head around like this
Asked my little baby for a kiss
She shook her head around like this
She said, wahhhhhhhhh, all right
Yeah, Bama Lama, Bama Loo
Bama Lama, Bama Loo
Bama Lama, baby, Bama Loo, yeah
Bama Lama, Bama Loo
The way she smiles
She drives me wild
Bama Lama, Bama Loo.......

song performed by Tom Jones
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I Should Be Allowed To Think

I saw the best minds of my generation
Destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
And I should be allowed to blurt the merest idea
If by random whim, one occurs to me
If necessary, leave paper stains on the grey utility pole
I saw the worst bands of my generation
Applied by magic marker to dry wall
I should be allowed to shoot my mouth off
I should have a call in show
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
And I should be allowed to blurt the merest idea
If by random whim, one occurs to me
If necessary, leave paper stains on the grey utility pole
I am not allowed
To ever come up with a single original thought
I am not allowed
To meet the criminal government agent who oppresses me
I was the worst hope of my generation
Destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical
I should be allowed to share my feelings
I should be allowed to feel
I should be allowed to glue my poster
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think
And I should be allowed to blurt the merest idea
If by random whim one occurs to me
But sadly, this can never be
I am not allowed to think
I am not allowed to think
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)
I am not allowed to think (I am not allowed to think)

song performed by They Might Be Giants
Added by Lucian Velea
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On the Innate Drive For What is Right

As life bled, martyrdom flared its buds.
Repression, red from irritation,
Rendered chinks and cracks; but thuds of
Armament - in cowardice - accomplice of the
Dictatorial blight thro' countless years -
Wreaked its retribution:
Yet hope began to bloom a coloured carapace
Enshrining their allegiance ‘gainst the
Terror in their tears.

And on! Splits yawned - breaches in the junta:
Flesh fought fanatical minds -
Bullets welcomed into open hands
And blessed with yearnings for morality:
Chiselled man-toys of death and mutilation
Couldn't repel the might of freedom
Surging at the bright horizon.

Crepuscular rays of purpose, body,
Flooded pandemonium with
Overwhelming clarity, direction -
Burdened clouds drifting wayward as the
Light channelled out a vision,
Intensifying focus on tomorrow -
Deepen their stride
As they home in to
What is theirs,
Rightfully theirs!

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011

[...] Read more

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Believer's Principles : Chap. IV.

Faith and Sense Natural, compared and distinguished.

When Abram's body, Sarah's womb,
Were ripe for nothing but the tomb,
Exceeding old, and wholly dead,
Unlike to bear the promis'd seed:

Faith said, 'I shall an Isaac see;'
'No, no,' said Sense, 'it cannot be;'
Blind Reason, to augment the strife,
Adds, 'How can death engender life?'

My heart is like a rotten tomb,
More dead than ever Sarah's womb;
O! can the promis'd seed of grace
Spring forth from such a barren place?

Sense gazing but on flinty rocks,
My hope and expectation chokes:
But could I, skill'd in Abram's art,
O'erlook my dead and barren heart;

And build my hope on nothing less
That divine pow'r and faithfulness;
Soon would I find him raise up sons
To Abram, out of rocks and stones.

Faith acts as busy boatmen do,
Who backward look and forward row;
It looks intent to things unseen,
Thinks objects visible too mean.

Sense thinks it madness thus to steer,
And only trusts its eye and ear;
Into faith's boat dare thrust its oar,
And put it further from the shore.

Faith does alone the promise eye;
Sense won't believe unless it see;
Nor can it trust the divine guide,
Unless it have both wind and tide.

Faith thinks the promise sure and good;
Sense doth depend on likelihood;
Faith ev'n in storms believes the seers;
Sense calls all men, ev'n prophets, liars.

Faith uses means, but rests on none;
Sense sails when outward means are gone:

[...] Read more

poem by Ralph Erskine
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Illegal Alien

Got out of bed, wasnt feeling too good
With my wallet and my passport, a new pair of shoes
The sun is shining so I head for the park,
With a bottle of tequila, and a new pack of cigarettes
I got a cousin and she got a friend,
Who thought that her aunt knew a man who could help
At his apartment I knocked on the door,
He wouldnt come out until he got paid.
Now dont tell anybody what I wanna do
If they find out you know that theyll never let me through, cos
Its no fun being an illegal alien, no
Its no fun being an illegal alien
Down at the office had to fill out the forms
A pink one, a red one, the colours you choose,
Up to the counter to see what they think
They said it doesnt count man, it aint written in ink.
I dont trust anybody, least not around here, cos
Its no fun being an illegal alien, I tell ya
Its no fun being an illegal alien, no no no no no
Its no fun being an illegal alien, I mean it when I tell ya that
Its no fun being an illegal alien,
An illegal alien, o.k.
Consideration for your fellow man
Would not hurt anybody, it sure fits in with my plan
Over the border, there lies the promised land
Where everything comes easy, you just hold out your hand
Keep your suspicions, Ive seen that look before
But I aint done nothing wrong now, is that such a suprise
But Ive got a sister whod be willing to oblige
She will do anything now to help me get to the outside
So dont tell anybody what I wanna do
If they find out you know that theyll never let me through, because
Its no fun being an illegal alien, I tell ya
Its no fun being an illegal alien, and its getting me down
Its no fun being an illegal alien, no no no no no
Its no fun being an illegal alien, yeah yeah yeah
Its no fun (not much fun) being an illegal alien, I tell ya that
Its no fun being an illegal alien, I tell ya
Its no fun being an illegal alien, no no no
Its no fun (not bloody much fun) being an illegal alien,
Its no fun being an illegal alien, and thats what I am.

song performed by Genesis
Added by Lucian Velea
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Extension 33

Living at the y, extension 33,
Nothing to care or to worry.
Once I was in love with a blind man,
But my auntie told me, dont do it, its not worth it.
Living at the y, 33 years,
No one to call or to write to.
Once I was in love with a married man,
But my instincts told me, dont tell him, itll kill you.
Im sad I didnt marry the blind man,
But whats a life with three blind children?
Im glad I never told the married man,
It saved my pride and freedom.
Living at the y, in 33 rooms,
Nowhere to visit or write to.
Once I was in love, it nearly killed me,
But now I have my pride and freedom.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom and pride.
Freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom,
Freedom, freedom, freedom.

song performed by Yoko Ono
Added by Lucian Velea
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Illegal Search

Yo baby
Put your seatbelt on
I got my paperwork, dont worry
Its cool
[ the flex ]
Illegal search
(do you wanna see it? )
(Im gonna do it)
[ verse 1 ]
What the hell are you lookin for?
Cant a young man make money anymore?
Wear my jewels and like freak it on the floor
Or is it my job to make sure Im poor?
Cant my car look better than yours?
Keep a cigar in between my jaws
I drink champagne, to hell with coors
Never sold coke in my life, I do tours
Get that flashlight out of my face
Im not a dog, so damn it, put away the mace
I got cash and real attorneys on the case
Youre just a joker perpetratin a ace
You got time, you wanna give me a taste
I dont smoke cigarettes, so why youre lookin for base?
You might plant a gun, and hope I run a race
Eatin in the messhall, sayin my grace
You tried to frame me, but it wont work
Illegal search
[ the flex ]
Keep on searchin
[ l.l. cool j ]
Im totally relaxed
[ the flex ]
Illegal searchin
[ l.l. cool j ]
Illegal search
[ the flex ]
Keep on searchin
Keep on searchin
Keep on searchin
Gotta, gotta, gotta...
[ verse 2 ]
I call it nice, you call it a drug car
I say disco, you call it a drug bar
I say nice guy, you call me mr. good bar
I made progress, you say, not that far
I just started it, youre searchin my car
But all my paperwork is up to par
Its in my uncles name, so the frame wont work
Chump - illegal search
[ the flex ]

[...] Read more

song performed by LL Cool J
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Blind Justice And The Godfather

The United States
Supreme Court
lacks creditable
determinable
unity of purpose.

Guantanamo Bay
is a geographical
miscarriage of justice.

Guantanamo Bay
sanctioned sanitized
political spin styled military;
‘is a detainment facility
of the United States
located in (Castro) Cuba.’

The Boy Scouts
honour badges
ran summer camps
detainment areas
three Gitmo resorts

Camp Delta/ Echo
Camp Iguana but
Camp X-Ray was;
closed due to naughty
torture techniques

that’s human rights
violations
ok boys and girls?

The Justice Department?
Said its ok because
Guantanamo Bay Detention Camp
is our sneaky hidy-hole
outside U.S. legal jurisdiction!

Fuhrer Reich
Chancellor Bush
declared detainees;
were not allowed
not allowed

any protections
under humane
Geneva Conventions!

January 11,2002

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Photos of War

Photo of War - 1

no milk for her
child the nipple
droops a sad
thing while dogs
run wildly about

Photo of War - 2

Geese tell of return

the burning village
counts its embers
measured in hands

Photo of War - 3

there are treaties

generals

prisoners and
gilded boxes
exchanged

then the
Mongol spices

Photo of War - 4

boys
muddy feet

cheer
chase behind
battalions
innocent fists
raising threat

for them
such regrettable
punctuation

Photo of War - 5

[...] Read more

poem by Warren Falcon
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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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All Lost.

Type photo caption, save, no show, all lost, anger!
Type photo caption, save, no show, all lost, anger!
Type photo caption, save, no show, all lost, anger!
Type photo caption, save, no show, all lost, anger!
Type photo caption, save, no show, all lost, anger!
Type photo caption, save, no show, all lost, anger!
Type photo caption, save, no show, all lost, anger!
Type photo caption, save, no show, all lost, anger!
Type photo caption, save, no show, all lost, anger!
Type photo caption, save, no show, all lost, anger!
Type photo caption, save, no show, all lost, anger!
Type photo caption, save, no show, all lost, anger!
Stress!

PB

(C) Yorkshire, Sunday 11th October at 21.58.

poem by Paul Butters
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Bama Lama Bama Loo

Bama lama bama loo
Gotta girl named lucinda
They call her the great pretender
Gotta girl named lucinda
They call her the great pretender
And when she talks
She says a bama lama loo
Chorus
Bama lama bama loo
Bama lama bama loo
Bama lama bama loo
Bama lama bama loo
Well I dig her style
Shes bout to drive me wild
With bama lama bama loo
Well I asked my little baby for a kiss
She shook her head around like this
Well I asked my little girl for a kiss
She shook her head around like this
She said ....
(chorus)

song performed by Elvis Costello
Added by Lucian Velea
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Am I Allowed

Am I allowed
To wish not to breathe?
Am I allowed
To skip over tomorrow?
And,
Am I allowed
Not to believe,
Who it is that speaks.
Or,
Whom everybody follows?

Am I allowed
To want my own needs?
Am I allowed
Not to beg or borrow.
Am I allowed
Not to be deceived,
By who those that I know
Are low, lazy and shallow?

Am I allowed
My own company?
Am I allowed
To float or row my boat?
And,
Am I allowed
To see what I see,
Who it is that show
Not which way to go?

Am I allowed
To want my own needs?
Am I allowed
Not to beg or borrow.
Am I allowed
Not to be deceived,
By who those that I know
Are low, lazy and shallow?

Am I allowed
My own company?
Am I allowed
To float or row my boat?
And,
Am I allowed
To see what I see,
Who it is that show
Not which way to go?

Am I allowed

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Ghost - Book IV

Coxcombs, who vainly make pretence
To something of exalted sense
'Bove other men, and, gravely wise,
Affect those pleasures to despise,
Which, merely to the eye confined,
Bring no improvement to the mind,
Rail at all pomp; they would not go
For millions to a puppet-show,
Nor can forgive the mighty crime
Of countenancing pantomime;
No, not at Covent Garden, where,
Without a head for play or player,
Or, could a head be found most fit,
Without one player to second it,
They must, obeying Folly's call,
Thrive by mere show, or not at all
With these grave fops, who, (bless their brains!)
Most cruel to themselves, take pains
For wretchedness, and would be thought
Much wiser than a wise man ought,
For his own happiness, to be;
Who what they hear, and what they see,
And what they smell, and taste, and feel,
Distrust, till Reason sets her seal,
And, by long trains of consequences
Insured, gives sanction to the senses;
Who would not (Heaven forbid it!) waste
One hour in what the world calls Taste,
Nor fondly deign to laugh or cry,
Unless they know some reason why;
With these grave fops, whose system seems
To give up certainty for dreams,
The eye of man is understood
As for no other purpose good
Than as a door, through which, of course,
Their passage crowding, objects force,
A downright usher, to admit
New-comers to the court of Wit:
(Good Gravity! forbear thy spleen;
When I say Wit, I Wisdom mean)
Where (such the practice of the court,
Which legal precedents support)
Not one idea is allow'd
To pass unquestion'd in the crowd,
But ere it can obtain the grace
Of holding in the brain a place,
Before the chief in congregation
Must stand a strict examination.
Not such as those, who physic twirl,
Full fraught with death, from every curl;

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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A Free Green Grass Of Home Towards

(1)
Free To Freedom To Indenpendence To Demoracy
The bsae line is 'Free' in the sense of financial cases and socio-political
fields
Greem grass of free mind-sets
Free To Freedom To Indenpendence To Demoracy
The bsae line is 'Free' in the sense of financial cases and socio-political
fields
Greem grass of free mind-sets

(2)

Free To Freedom To Indenpendence To Demoracy
The bsae line is 'Free' in the sense of financial cases and socio-political
fields
Greem grass of free mind-sets

(3)

Free To Freedom To Indenpendence To Demoracy
The bsae line is 'Free' in the sense of financial cases and socio-political
fields
Greem grass of free mind-sets

(4)

Free To Freedom To Indenpendence To Demoracy
The bsae line is 'Free' in the sense of financial cases and socio-political
fields
Greem grass of free mind-sets

(5)

Free To Freedom To Indenpendence To Demoracy
The bsae line is 'Free' in the sense of financial cases and socio-political
fields
Greem grass of free mind-sets

(6)

Free To Freedom To Indenpendence To Demoracy
The bsae line is 'Free' in the sense of financial cases and socio-political
fields
Greem grass of free mind-sets

(7)

Free To Freedom To Indenpendence To Demoracy
The bsae line is 'Free' in the sense of financial cases and socio-political

[...] Read more

poem by Nyein Way
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Gotham - Book II

How much mistaken are the men who think
That all who will, without restraint may drink,
May largely drink, e'en till their bowels burst,
Pleading no right but merely that of thirst,
At the pure waters of the living well,
Beside whose streams the Muses love to dwell!
Verse is with them a knack, an idle toy,
A rattle gilded o'er, on which a boy
May play untaught, whilst, without art or force,
Make it but jingle, music comes of course.
Little do such men know the toil, the pains,
The daily, nightly racking of the brains,
To range the thoughts, the matter to digest,
To cull fit phrases, and reject the rest;
To know the times when Humour on the cheek
Of Mirth may hold her sports; when Wit should speak,
And when be silent; when to use the powers
Of ornament, and how to place the flowers,
So that they neither give a tawdry glare,
'Nor waste their sweetness in the desert air;'
To form, (which few can do, and scarcely one,
One critic in an age, can find when done)
To form a plan, to strike a grand outline,
To fill it up, and make the picture shine
A full and perfect piece; to make coy Rhyme
Renounce her follies, and with Sense keep time;
To make proud Sense against her nature bend,
And wear the chains of Rhyme, yet call her friend.
Some fops there are, amongst the scribbling tribe,
Who make it all their business to describe,
No matter whether in or out of place;
Studious of finery, and fond of lace,
Alike they trim, as coxcomb Fancy brings,
The rags of beggars, and the robes of kings.
Let dull Propriety in state preside
O'er her dull children, Nature is their guide;
Wild Nature, who at random breaks the fence
Of those tame drudges, Judgment, Taste, and Sense,
Nor would forgive herself the mighty crime
Of keeping terms with Person, Place, and Time.
Let liquid gold emblaze the sun at noon,
With borrow'd beams let silver pale the moon;
Let surges hoarse lash the resounding shore,
Let streams meander, and let torrents roar;
Let them breed up the melancholy breeze,
To sigh with sighing, sob with sobbing trees;
Let vales embroidery wear; let flowers be tinged
With various tints; let clouds be laced or fringed,
They have their wish; like idle monarch boys,
Neglecting things of weight, they sigh for toys;

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poem by Charles Churchill
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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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