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We pity in others only the those evils which we ourselves have experienced.

quote by Jean Jacques Rousseau
Added by Lucian Velea
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With A Pity That You Want

With a pity that you want,
To prove it.
With a pity that you want.

And with a pity that you want,
To prove it.
With a pity that you want.

You weep too deep,
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.
To realize...
A pain you keep.
With a pity that you want,
To prove it.
With a pity that you want.

Other people who have less,
Do their best to not in public bleed.

But...
You're one of those,
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.
Yes you're one of those,
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.

You weep too deep,
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.
And your wants are weak.
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.

Other people who have less,
Do their best to not in public bleed.

But...
You're one of those,
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.
Yes you're one of those,
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.

You're one of those,
With a pity that you want to prove it.
With a pity that you want.
Yes you're one of those,

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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That Pity B-Gone!

Let that pity b-gone!
No more from me you get pity.
That pity b-gone!
You indulged and had to rid of it.
That pity b-gone.
And also going are those benefits.
If you carry on...
Like you can't handle it!

Let that pity b-gone!
No more from me you get pity.
That pity b-gone!
You indulged and had to rid of it.
That pity b-gone.
And also going are those benefits.
If you carry on...
Like you can't handle it!

We knew that pity had to split!
B-gone.
We knew that our hearts would split, and soon...
B-gone.
If we let that pity sit,
Between us....
Both of us would have a fit.
If we let that pity sit,
Both of us would have a fit.
If we let that pity sit...
Between us!

And...
You'd believe,
That I could never love you.
To leave me feeling sorry,
And blue.

But...
I would know,
How deep inside my love goes.
And protecting what I love,
Before it overflows.

Let that pity b-gone!
No more from me you get pity.
That pity b-gone!
You indulged and had to rid of it.
That pity b-gone.
And also going are those benefits.
If you carry on...
Like you can't handle it!

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Don't Dip Yo Pity Here To Sit

Don't dip yo pity here to sit.
No permitted pity here can visit.
Don't dip yo pity here to sit.
No permitted pity here can visit.

When you tire of your weeping...
You can call on me.
But don't dip yo pity in a pit!
To leave it here to sit.

When you tire of your weeping...
You can call on me.
But don't dip yo pity in a pit!
To leave it here to sit.

I'll call 9-1-1...
To rescue me.

Don't dip yo pity.
Don't dip yo pity here to sit!

I'll call 9-1-1...
To rescue me.

Don't dip yo pity.
Don't dip yo pity here to sit!

No tears on my pillow.
Unless they're mine to cry.

Everyday you bring me pity.
As if your pity thrives.

Don't dip yo pity.
Don't dip yo pity here to sit!
No yo...
Don't dip yo pity.
Don't dip yo pity here to sit!
No yo!

I'll call 9-1-1...
To rescue me.

Don't dip yo pity.
Don't dip yo pity here to sit!
No yo.

I'll call 9-1-1...
To rescue me.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Get Up Off Your Pity Pot To Stop It

To wiggle out from under all doubts,
With a hanging them out to dry...
In front of passersby to eye,
Is intended to get attention.

Give those petty bits of pity,
To solicit empathy...
Away.
Today.
And...
Throw those doubts you've picked to pity,
With that selfishness that doesn't pay...
To get attention to gain.

Just get up off your pity pot to stop it.
And...
Get up off your pity pot to drop.

Just get up off your pity pot to stop it.
'Cause,
Believe this or not...
Very few are into pity.
And believe this or not...
Pity does not benefit.

Fight those doubts to stop and dropp them.
'Cause no pity benefits.
Fight those doubts to stop and dropp them.
'Cause no pity benefits.
And...
Believe this or not,
Very few are into pity.
And believe this or not...
Pity does not benefit.

Just get up off your pity pot to stop it.
'Cause,
Believe this or not...
Very few are into pity.
And believe this or not...
Pity does not benefit.

Give those petty bits of pity,
To solicit empathy...
Away.
Today.
And...
Throw those doubts you've picked to pity,
With that selfishness that doesn't pay...
To get attention to gain.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bastards of Bastions

Orphaned are those,
Barely sitting in their nodded stupors.
Drifting back and forth through wishes.
With compositions of conditions,
That keep them weak.
In minds defined by a life lived,
On inner city streets.

These are bastards of bastions...
Raised to be defeated.
No one to encourage,
Made efforts to keep.

These are bastards of bastions...
Raised to be defeated.
No one to encourage,
Made efforts to keep.

So they,
Find uselessness as no crime!
As a pity rips them.
And this pity grips them.
As they validate a nonsense lived.

As a pity rips them.
And this pity grips them.
As they validate a nonsense lived.

So they,
Find uselessness as no crime!
As a pity rips them.
And this pity grips them.
As a pity rips them.
And this pity grips them.

Orphaned are those,
Barely sitting in their nodded stupors.
Drifting back and forth through wishes.
With compositions of conditions,
That keep them weak.
In minds defined by a life lived,
On inner city streets.

As a pity rips them.
And this pity grips them.
As they validate a nonsense lived.

Bastards of bastions!
As a pity rips them.
And this pity grips them.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Isn't It A Pity

isn't it a pity
you don't know what i'm talking about yet
but i will tell you soon
it's a pity
isn't it a pity
isn't it a shame
yes, how we break each other's hearts
and cause each other pain
how we take each other's love
without thinking anymore
forgetting to give back
forgetting to remember
just forgetting and no thank you
isn't it a pity
some things take so long
but how do i explain
why not too many people can see
that we are all just the same
we're all guilty
because of all the tears
our eyes just can't hope to see
but i don't think it's applicable to me
the beauty that surrounds them
child, isn't it a pity
how we break each other's hearts
and cause each other pain
how we take each other's love
the most precious thing
without thinking anymore
forgetting to give back
forgetting to keep open our door
isn't it a pity
isn't it a pity
some things take so long
but how do i explain
isn't it a pity
why not too many people
can see we're all the same
because we cry so much
our eyes can't, can't hope to see
that's not quite true
the beauty that surrounds them
maybe that's why we cry
God, isn't it a pity
Lord knows it's a pity
mankind has been so programmed
that they don't care about nothin'
that has to do with care
c-a-r-e
how we take each other's love

[...] Read more

song performed by Nina Simone
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Sorcerer: Act II

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Sir Marmaduke Pointdextre, an Elderly Baronet

Alexis, of the Grenadier Guards--His Son

Dr. Daly, Vicar of Ploverleigh

John Wellington Wells, of J. W. Wells & Co., Family Sorcerers

Lady Sangazure, a Lady of Ancient Lineage

Aline, Her Daughter--betrothed to Alexis

Mrs. Partlet, a Pew-Opener

Constance, her Daughter

Chorus of Villagers

(Twelve hours are supposed to elapse between Acts I and II)

ACT II-- Grounds of Sir Marmaduke's Mansion, Midnight

Scene--Exterior of Sir Marmaduke's mansion by moonlight. All the
peasantry are discovered asleep on the ground, as at the end
of Act I.

Enter Mr. Wells, on tiptoe, followed by Alexis and Aline. Mr. Wells
carries a dark lantern.

TRIO--ALEXIS, ALINE, and MR. WELLS

'Tis twelve, I think,
And at this mystic hour
The magic drink
Should manifest its power.
Oh, slumbering forms,
How little ye have guessed
That fire that warms
Each apathetic breast!

ALEXIS. But stay, my father is not here!

ALINE. And pray where is my mother dear?

MR. WELLS. I did not think it meet to see
A dame of lengthy pedigree,

[...] Read more

poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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The Litanies Of Satan

O you, the most knowing, and loveliest of Angels,
a god fate betrayed, deprived of praises,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
O, Prince of exile to whom wrong has been done,
who, vanquished, always recovers more strongly,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who know everything, king of the underworld,
the familiar healer of human distress,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who teach even lepers, accursed pariahs,
through love itself the taste for Paradise,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
O you who on Death, your ancient true lover,
engendered Hope – that lunatic charmer!
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who grant the condemned that calm, proud look
that damns a whole people crowding the scaffold,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who know in what corners of envious countries
a jealous God hid those stones that are precious,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You whose clear eye knows the deep caches
where, buried, the race of metals slumbers,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You whose huge hands hide the precipice,
from the sleepwalker on the sky-scraper’s cliff,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who make magically supple the bones
of the drunkard, out late, who’s trampled by horses,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who taught us to mix saltpetre with sulphur
to console the frail human being who suffers,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who set your mark, o subtle accomplice,
on the forehead of Croesus, the vile and pitiless,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
You who set in the hearts and eyes of young girls
the cult of the wound, adoration of rags,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
The exile’s staff, the light of invention,
confessor to those to be hanged, to conspirators,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!
Father, adopting those whom God the Father
drove in dark anger from the earthly paradise,
O Satan, take pity on my long misery!

poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Pity, pity, pity

Look at to the unwanted child
Look at to the divorced wife
Look at to the homeless man
What people do other than saying
“Pity, pity, pity”

Look at to the tragic hero
Look at to the sympathized villain
Look at to the clueless victim
What witnesses do other than staring
“Pity, pity, pity”

Look at to the crazy dreamer
Look at to the unlucky gambler
Look at to the stubborn fighter
What friends do other than whispering
“Pity, pity, pity”

Look at to the withering flower
Look at to the starving animal
Look at to the extinct nature
What human do other than howling
“Pity, pity, pity”

Look at to the empty spaces
Look at to the blank faces
Look at to the lost traces
What devils do other than laughing
“Pity, pity, pity”

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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I Pity The Fool

Well, I pity the fool
I said I pity the fool
You know I pity the fool
I said I pity the fool
Shell break your heart one day
Then shell laugh if she walks away
Yeah, I pity the fool
Well, look at the people
Guess you wonder what to do
Theyre just standing there
Watching you making a fool out of me
Ah, look at the people
Bet you wonder what to do
Well, theyre just standing watching you making a fool out of me
Yeah, I pity the fool
I said I pity the fool
Ooh, I pity the fool
Well, I said I pity the fool
Shell break your heart one day
Then shell laugh as you walk away
Well, I pity the fool
Well, look at the people
Guess you wonder what to do
Theyre just standing there
Watching you making a fool out of me
Yeah, look at the people
Bet you wonder what to do
Theyre just standing
Watching you making a fool out of me
I pity the fool
I pity the fool that falls in love with you
Oh, I pity the fool
I pity the fool

song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Pity You

I pity you when you walk down the street
I pity you when you open your mouth to speak
You will tell your story, with its pity and glory
As sympathy is all that you do seek.

I pity you and your parents dear
I pity you when from you they don’t want to hear
As you put them to blame, for your sadness and pain
That’s why for you no-one will shed a tear.

I pity you when you laugh and smile
I pity you as your life is full of guile
But you are the source, for your sadness and remorse
And you wont change even when walking your last mile.

I pity you as you once had something
I pity you as now you have nothing
You threw everything away, so you could stray
Now your retribution will be coming.

I pity you as with time you will age
I pity you with your hate and your rage
You will always fight, whether you are wrong or right
You are the animal and your soul is your cage

I pity you and I do it without a clue
I pity you whenever I see or hear of you
There is no sympathy, as your not my friend or enemy
And all I can say is, that I truly pity you.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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Shitty Kitty City

There's a lobby by my study where my visitors may enter
which, since we got the kittens, has a dirtbox at the centre.
They're still too young to go outside, that's why I ask for pity:
they've turned my quiet oasis into Shitty Kitty City.
Pity, pity, isn't it a pity?
They've turned my quiet oasis into Shitty Kitty City.

Their mother trained them very well to go into the tray.
They do their stuff and cover it - that's fair enough, you say;
but litter gets flicked everywhere, so underfoot is gritty:
you need your wellies on indoors for Shitty Kitty City.
Pity, pity, isn't it a pity?
You need your wellies on indoors for Shitty Kitty City.

Mind the crap... Mind the crap... Stand clear of the turds, please.

I scoop the jobbies off the floor: the cats think I collect 'em,
so each one keeps on squeezing me a present from its rectum.
There's steaming heaps all over, and it isn't smelling pretty -
it's best to wear a gasmask when in Shitty Kitty City.
Pity, pity, isn't it a pity?
It's best to wear a gasmask when in Shitty Kitty City.

Ip dip dog shit, you are not it.

But soon they will be big enough to do it in the garden.
I'm putting out my begging bowl, for which I beg your pardon.
And now you see, good people all, the reason for my ditty -
a whipround for a catflap door for Shitty Kitty City.
Pity, pity, isn't it a pity?
I need to buy a catflap door for Shitty Kitty City.

poem by Wild Bill Balding
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Lakota

Words by joni mitchell
Music by larry klein and joni mitchell
I am lakota!
Lakota!
Looking at money man--
Diggin the deadly quotas--
Out of balance--
Out of hand
We want the land!
Lay down the reeking ore!
Dont you hear the shrieking in the trees?
Everywhere you touch the earth--shes sore
Every time you skin her all things weep
Your money mocks us--
Restitution--what good can it do? --
Kennelled in metered boxes
Red dogs in debt to you
I am lakota!
Lakota!
Fighting among ourselves
All we can say with one whole heart
Is we wont sell--
No well never sell
We want the land!
The lonely coyote calls
In the woodlands--footprints of the deer
In the barrooms--poor drunk bastard falls
In the courtrooms--deaf ears--sixty years
You think were sleeping--but
Quietly like rattlesnakes and stars
We have seen the trampled rainbows
In the smoke of cars
I am lakota
Brave
Sun pity me
I am lakota
Broken
Moon pity me
I am lakota
Grave
Shadows stretching
Lakota
Oh pity me
I am lakota
Weak
Grass pity me
I am lakota
Faithful
Rocks pity me
I am lakota

[...] Read more

song performed by Joni Mitchell
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pity Me, Loo!

On the sunset borders of the mountains I stray,
Of a dear home dreaming 'yond the snow peaks far away,
While the bubbling brook beside me goes dancing along,
As it seeks the "Golden Gate" of the ocean blue;
And a lone bird murmurs in the bush-top his song--
"Pity me, Loo!" "Pity me, Loo!" "Pity me, Loo!"

Tra la la la, la la la la
From mate to mate the carol rings:
Tra la la la, la la la la!
la la la la
A thousand valleys through;
Yet the lone bird sorrows as he plaintively sings--
"Pity me, Loo!" "Pity me, Loo!" "Pity me, Loo!"

'Neath the rocks I'm treading there are treasures of gold,
But by far more precious is my own native mold.
Nevermore, in search of Beauty need Fancy take wings:
Here is beauty, here is grandeur, at ev'ry view;
Yet my heart grows heavy, and the lone bird still sings--
"Pity me, Loo!" "Pity me, Loo!" "Pity me, Loo!"

In the green-clad valley where the wayward brook mends
There are homes most charming--there are warmhearted friends.
Lovely dell! it seems an Eden, afloat in mid-air,
As if God had sent from Heaven a creation new;
But its charm is broken, for my heart is not there--
"Pity me, Loo!" "Pity me, Loo!" "Pity me, Loo!"

poem by Henry Clay Work
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Plastic Pity

Within some minds,
It is okay to be criticized.
And in some minds closed and confined...
What others do to them,
Is perfectly fine.

And yet there are those minds,
Behind times trying to define...
How best to belittle,
With a showing of unconsiousness...
A plastic pity that will fit,
All occasions that will suit...
A showing of a care-less-ness,
So obvious and with no regret.

With their noses in the air...
They plastic pity.
They dare to play it really fair,
With their plastic pity.
They careless who is there to spare,
With their plastic pity.
Or who lives on and in despair,
As long as they give pity.
A plastic empty pity.

With their noses in the air...
They plastic pity.
They dare to play it really fair,
With their plastic pity.
They careless who is there to spare,
With their plastic pity.
Or who lives on and in despair,
As long as they give pity.
A plastic empty pity.

And yet there are those minds,
Behind times trying to define...
How best to belittle,
With a showing of unconsiousness...
A plastic pity that will fit,
All occasions that will suit...
A showing of care-less-ness,
So obvious and with no regret.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Gebir

FIRST BOOK.

I sing the fates of Gebir. He had dwelt
Among those mountain-caverns which retain
His labours yet, vast halls and flowing wells,
Nor have forgotten their old master's name
Though severed from his people here, incensed
By meditating on primeval wrongs,
He blew his battle-horn, at which uprose
Whole nations; here, ten thousand of most might
He called aloud, and soon Charoba saw
His dark helm hover o'er the land of Nile,
What should the virgin do? should royal knees
Bend suppliant, or defenceless hands engage
Men of gigantic force, gigantic arms?
For 'twas reported that nor sword sufficed,
Nor shield immense nor coat of massive mail,
But that upon their towering heads they bore
Each a huge stone, refulgent as the stars.
This told she Dalica, then cried aloud:
'If on your bosom laying down my head
I sobbed away the sorrows of a child,
If I have always, and Heaven knows I have,
Next to a mother's held a nurse's name,
Succour this one distress, recall those days,
Love me, though 'twere because you loved me then.'
But whether confident in magic rites
Or touched with sexual pride to stand implored,
Dalica smiled, then spake: 'Away those fears.
Though stronger than the strongest of his kind,
He falls-on me devolve that charge; he falls.
Rather than fly him, stoop thou to allure;
Nay, journey to his tents: a city stood
Upon that coast, they say, by Sidad built,
Whose father Gad built Gadir; on this ground
Perhaps he sees an ample room for war.
Persuade him to restore the walls himself
In honour of his ancestors, persuade -
But wherefore this advice? young, unespoused,
Charoba want persuasions! and a queen!'
'O Dalica!' the shuddering maid exclaimed,
'Could I encounter that fierce, frightful man?
Could I speak? no, nor sigh!'
'And canst thou reign?'
Cried Dalica; 'yield empire or comply.'
Unfixed though seeming fixed, her eyes downcast,
The wonted buzz and bustle of the court
From far through sculptured galleries met her ear;
Then lifting up her head, the evening sun
Poured a fresh splendour on her burnished throne-

[...] Read more

poem by Walter Savage Landor
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High Priest Of Rhythmic Noise

Its been a long time, baby
High priest of rhytmic noise
Living inside of me
I been goin round in ciricles
And Ive considered first degree
Just a singer in a mind choir
Lives on harmony
If the song dont change the choir wont sin
Wont sing the same song forever
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
You look strange, thats what I like
You look strange like me
Fit to be tied, a little bedtime story
Next position please
Just a singer in a mind choir
Lives on harmony
If the song dont change the choir wont sing
Wont sing the same song forever
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
When the high priest of rhythmic noise
Is inside of you
Dont give up, get out, get down
(forever is a long long time)
Dont stand up, shut up, sit down
(youre strange, thats what I like)
Dont make a move till you hear that sound
(Im just a singer in a mind choir)
Dont give up, get out, get down
(high priest of rhytmic noise)
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
Its such a pity
Whats a poor boy to do
When the high priest of rhythmic noise
Is inside of you
Forever is a long long time
If you can...
Im a ...little tiny plastic pills
From my little plastic pills
Its such a pity

[...] Read more

song performed by Cheap Trick
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pity The Fool

I pity the fool
Yeah, I pity the fool
That falls in love with you
And expects you to be true
Thats why I pity that fool
Chorus:
look at the people
i know you wonder what theyre doing
theyre just standing there
watching you make a fool of me
(repeat chorus)
Oh, I pity the fool
Yeah, I pity the fool
Hey, I pity the fool
I pity the fool that falls in love with you
Hell break your heart one day
And hell laugh and go on his way
Thats why I pity that fool
(repeat chorus)
I pity the fool...
I pity the fool that gives her heart to you
Hell take her heart away
And hell find another fool to play
Thats why I pity that fool
(repeat chorus)

song performed by Cyndi Lauper
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Am Aroused

I am aroused.
Because of the state of my lifestyle.
It's simple and basic from greedy needs.
And this has me happy...
Like no one would believe.

I am...
Aroused.
Because of the state of my lifestyle.
It's simple and basic from greedy needs.
And this has me happy...
Like no one would believe.

Economics use to rob me,
From a peaceful sleep.
Thinking who to impress and to please.

When I got 'downsized'
My heart I thought would stop.
Seeing myself broken and on bended knees.

But,
I got...
Aroused.
A pity party started but I took my leave.
I didn't want nobody pity me!

Somehow,
I-got-aroused!
And started the beginning of a new lifestyle.
It's simple and basic from greedy needs.
And this has me happy...
Like no one would believe.

Happy like a monkey,
In a banana tree.

Economics use to rob me,
From a peaceful sleep.
Thinking who to impress and to please.

When I got 'downsized'
My heart I thought would stop.
Seeing myself broken and on bended knees.

And no pity party started was a remedy.
No pity party started was for me.

Then I got aroused.
And this has me happy...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Plea Of The Midsummer Fairies

I

'Twas in that mellow season of the year
When the hot sun singes the yellow leaves
Till they be gold,—and with a broader sphere
The Moon looks down on Ceres and her sheaves;
When more abundantly the spider weaves,
And the cold wind breathes from a chillier clime;—
That forth I fared, on one of those still eves,
Touch'd with the dewy sadness of the time,
To think how the bright months had spent their prime,

II

So that, wherever I address'd my way,
I seem'd to track the melancholy feet
Of him that is the Father of Decay,
And spoils at once the sour weed and the sweet;—
Wherefore regretfully I made retreat
To some unwasted regions of my brain,
Charm'd with the light of summer and the heat,
And bade that bounteous season bloom again,
And sprout fresh flowers in mine own domain.

III

It was a shady and sequester'd scene,
Like those famed gardens of Boccaccio,
Planted with his own laurels evergreen,
And roses that for endless summer blow;
And there were fountain springs to overflow
Their marble basins,—and cool green arcades
Of tall o'erarching sycamores, to throw
Athwart the dappled path their dancing shades,—
With timid coneys cropping the green blades.

IV

And there were crystal pools, peopled with fish,
Argent and gold; and some of Tyrian skin,
Some crimson-barr'd;—and ever at a wish
They rose obsequious till the wave grew thin
As glass upon their backs, and then dived in,
Quenching their ardent scales in watery gloom;
Whilst others with fresh hues row'd forth to win
My changeable regard,—for so we doom
Things born of thought to vanish or to bloom.

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poem by Thomas Hood
Added by Poetry Lover
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