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If the facts are contrary to any predictions, then the hypothesis is wrong no matter how appealing.

quote by David Douglass
Added by Lucian Velea
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Facts Are Surfacing All Over The Place

Confronting anyone today with facts,
Not thickly coated in enriching sweetness...
Begins in an unending argument!
Oh...
Wait a minute!
That was yesterday.

Today...
Facts are surfacing all over the place.
Creating protests for a return,
Of those yesterdays!

The speed by which truth is being exposed,
Has diluted those minds uncertain to determine...
From which 'reality' to pick and choose.
And 'this' has confused the minds of many.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Facts Are In The Doing

I know of no 'other' one...
NO ONE,
Who would turn their back...
On their worldly possessions,
To come to the aid of another.
Whether that person was a family member,
Friend or a lover, sister or brother.
And to do this is the height of sacrifice.
That puts to the test one's faith, courage and stamina.
And to experience the doing of this 'twice'...
Is an act that can not or will not,
Ever be comprehended by others to be explained.
The facts are in the doing to know what has been done.
And to hear others say what they can not do...
Can leave another to feel embittered,
By overhearing this confession of weakness.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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No Matter How Long You Are Not Here

an unwritten soul said...
so no matter how long
you are not here
it is about time and just
cherish your time

with what you need to do
I will not ask
to get to take your time
use your time

fill your time with enjoyment
fill time with life
fill time with the bending space
time is spacious...

so no matter how long
you are not here
it is about time fill time
with love given

poem by Terence George Craddock
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We Are All Going To Die/ And It Does Not Matter How Good

WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE/

We are all going to die
And it does not matter how good you are
Or how strong you are
Or how great you are
Or how kind you are
Or how wise you are
Or whatever you are
We are all going to die
And go away forever-

And I walking here
With the pride of my poem
And the pride of my name
And the anguish of what I have done and not done
Will like everyone else
Go away forever-
Whether I have written this poem or not.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Utter The Voice

Woe to him or her,
Who gives drink to his or her meighbours until they are drunk!
After which they look upon their nakedness;
For the stone will cry out of the wall one day.

No matter how many times you do this,
The beam will also cry out one day and the timber will answer it!
So utter the voice of love in the deep than hatred.

The judge seeks for bribe and the mighty dictates his or her evil demands,
But no matter how many times that i do fall i will surely rise up!
And i will utter the voice of love to fulfil my dreams.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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There exists in society a very special class of persons that I have always referred to as the Believers. These are folks who have chosen to accept a certain religion, philosophy, theory, idea or notion and cling to that belief regardless of any evidence that might, for anyone else, bring it into doubt. They are the ones who encourage and support the fanatics and the frauds of any given age. No amount of evidence, no matter how strong, will bring them any enlightenment. They are the sheep who beg to be fleeced and butchered, and who will battle fiercely to preserve their right to be victimized...

quote by James Randi
Added by Catalin Popescu
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The People You Put There

The people you put there, justice has laid off
Path of the truth will prevail no matter how rough
One after the other, they are being deposed
You did not leave a good legacy
We fight for democracy, you for autocracy
And like a tyrant lord, you fixed here and there
Lackeys, who will your instructions bear
You gave no regard for the people's mandate
Just to retain your party's potency till date
You gave your minions irresistible boldness
To accrue power out of sheer wickedness
Your pot belly full of imaginations
The breeding ground of various manipulations
But know this grizzled grandsire
Justice has begun to reign in our empire
Shame on perpetrators of corruption
Praise for those who fight for a just nation

poem by Anthony Seyi Abiodun
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My Firm Belief

This is the world of loss and gain
Where God let nothing to go in vain
Even a water dropp that we get in rain
Helps us in moments of suffering and pain

When troubles come it makes us gray
And everything feels wrong in the way
And we don't find next stone to lay
And think that God has pushed us away

But this is neither true nor it is right
Because for us God emits bliss light
And show us nice things that are bright
For his ways are always unique and quiet

So if we feel we are stuck in a test
Where we are not given any rest
Then thing that at time seems best
is to go to God and pray with zest

Because this is surely my firm belief
That God who is our creator and chief
Will cease our pain and will give us relief
And will remove from us our distress and grief

Because this is the world of loss and gain
Where God let nothing to go in vain
Even a water dropp that we get in rain
Helps us in moments of sufferings and pain

poem by Seema Chowdhury
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Sailboat

As each grass grows and blows, so it is how each soul in life must grow, which goes like a sailboat.
Life is like a sailboat in that you are traveling on trouble waters as you embark on your journey, and throughout your journey as deep and uncertain as the waters are for a sailboat, the same fate lies in the journey of life.
No matter how straight the gate of life is, one will always face troubling waters.
Some days may be sunny and great to sail, while other may be rainy and dark.
But just as a sailor is able to maneuver through troubling waters and is able to dodge rocks and waves; we too possess those entities to be able to be rocked and stay steady like a sailboat.
But at the end of the day we are able to look to the sky and see the clouds and know that the unmoved mover is the reason for any progress through the struggle.
Being able to look from the higher land above, we then can see from where we have come.
As unsuspected as it may seem, sailing through all the struggles, we can now see the beauty of life from the other side looking in

poem by Coker George
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Part Of The Club

A visit to the park.
Lets go play, yeah.
Your taking my home, job and lively hood but that's okay because I'm part of the club.
An anecdotal pun what fun.
We will be okay now hun.
Their here to save us from themselves.
That's the blind man kind of sense.
Your hands are not clean please rerinse.
For some reason it just so hard to believe the ones who deceive are here to help me.
I think more like their here to frisk me.
Make sure their is nothing left hidden.
With every cent, every dime I make with a smile they say oh hey that's mine and take
Now lets just dine on your food stamps.
Just stick your finger in this clamp after you already done it once and know of the pain.
Let me ask you a question, are you insane?
Better yet am I?
Am I so far gone that I can't see past the coming of a new dawn.
I think not.
I will not.
To join in your make believe reindeer games.
I'm just so sorry but the times have changed.
No matter how pretty the picture put upon this canvas is it is still the same.
So with you hands held out saying give give give watch as I spit in them.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Marley Purt Drive

Sunday morning, woke up yawning; filled the pool for a swim.
Pulled down the head and looked in the glass just to see if I was in.
Went up the stairs and kissed my women to make her come alive.
'Cause with fifteen kids and a fam'ly on the skids,
I got to go for a Sunday drive.
Fifteen kids and a fam'ly on the skids ,
I got to go for a Sunday drive.
That's how they are, so I grabbed out the car;convertible fifty-nine.
Headed for the freeway; tried to find the Pasadena sign.
Ten miles and three quarters more I wasn't feeling any more alive.
'Cause with fifteen kids and a fam'ly on the skids,
I got to go for a Sunday drive.
Fifteen kids and a fam'ly on the skids,
I got to go for a Sunday drive.
I used to be a minstrel free with a whole lot of bread in my bag.
I used to feel that my life was real, but the good Lord threw me a snag.
Now I'm gonna be the same as me ,no matter how I try.
'Cause with fifteen kids and a fam'ly on the skids,
I got to go for a Sunday drive.
Fifteen kids and a fam'ly on the skids,
I got to go for a Sunday drive.
Turned 'round the car and headed for home; I guess I realized my fate.
Ten miles and three quarters more I pulled up outside the gate.
Twenty more kids were stood inside and that made thirty-five.
'Cause with an orphanage full of thirty-five kids,
I got to go for a Sunday drive.
An orphanage full of thirty-five kids ,
I got to go for a Sunday drive.
Sunday morning woke up yawning; filled the pool for a swim.
Pulled down the glass and looked in the mirror just to see if I was in .
Went up the stairs and kissed my women to make her come alive.
'Cause with an orphanage full of thirty-five kids ,
I got to go for a Sunday

song performed by Bee Gees
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Man Who Dipped His Fingers In Salt And Lick Them All

he dips his fingers in
salt and licks them all

people look at him with
all surprise
he is weird and they do not
like him
He is detestable
they say

he does this everyday
all the days of the week
all the weeks of months
all the months of those years

the people shut him away
they close their doors
they vomit when they see him
they look at him with contempt
they throw him away from
their cities
they ban him from all
other countries

he keeps the salt all to himself
he eats them and drinks them all
he has become sick
very sick like one rusty nail

he died and people did not
mourn for him
good riddance so to say
the city dances in jubilation
the world turns into a fourth of july

if they only knew him
well that i know him to be
they should have known how
he disliked salt
how all his senses revolt
against this instinct
of having his fingers dip
in salt
and of his having his tongue
lick
and how his mouth eats
all the stuff that
destroys his body
how every night he vomits
how his system fails
how he knew that with all these
he is actually killing himself

people do not know
there are things that happen
without his control
there are times when one
has no choice
but to dip the fingers in salt
no matter how bad it turns out to be
until he dies

society denies instincts
conceals the existence of vampires and gnomes and
parasites and ghouls
society keeps its own beautiful face
hides the scars and the disease

who wants to eat salt all his life?
who wants to rust like a nail and die like a brown dust on the ground?
who wants to be a scrap of iron and melt in salt?
who wants to be a robot? a man of hay?

nobody. i repeat nobody.
He never liked it himself.
Society has not asked
it never cares

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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from The Tenth Elegy

Ah, but the City of Pain: how strange its streets are:
the false silence of sound drowning sound,
and there--proud, brazen, effluence from the mold of emptiness--
the gilded hubbub, the bursting monument.
How an Angel would stamp out their market of solaces,
set up alongside their church bought to order:
clean and closed and woeful as a post office on Sunday.
Outside, though, there's always the billowing edge of the fair.
Swings of Freedom! High-divers and Jugglers of Zeal!
And the shooting gallery with its figures of idiot Happiness
which jump, quiver, and fall with a tinny ring
whenever some better marksman scores. Onward he lurches from cheers
to chance; for booths courting each curious taste
are drumming and barking. And then--for adults only--
a special show: how money breeds, its anatomy, not some charade:
money's genitals, everything, the whole act
from beginning to end--educational and guaranteed to make you
virile . . . . . . . . .
. . . . Oh, but just beyond that,
behind the last of the billboards, plastered with signs for "Deathless,"
that bitter beer which tastes sweet to those drinking it
as long as they have fresh distractions to chew . . . ,
just beyond those boards, just on the other side: things are real.
Children play, lovers hold each other, off in the shadows,
pensive, on the meager grass, while dogs obey nature.
The youth is drawn farther on; perhaps he's fallen in love
with a young Lament . . . . . He pursues her, enters meadowland.
She says:
"It's a long way. We live out there . . ."
Where? And the youth follows.
Something in her bearing stirs him. Her shoulders, neck--,
perhaps she's of noble descent. Still, he leaves her, turns around,
glances back, waves . . . What's the use? She's a Lament.

Translated by Edward Snow

poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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No Matter How Sincere the Appearance

A liar is a liar!
No matter how sincere the appearance.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Black or white good parts are hard to come by. A good actor with a good opportunity has a shot; without the opportunity it doesn't matter how good you are.

quote by Denzel Washington
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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When I'm depressed and I feel low thinking that good movies are not made any more, then I put on his movies and I watch them. I laugh and I cry and I have great pleasure.

quote by Geraldine Chaplin
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The front-line soldier wants it to be got over by the physical process of his destroying enough Germans to end it. He is truly at war. The rest of us, no matter how hard we work, are not.

quote by Ernie Pyle
Added by Lucian Velea
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in God's horizon

after the performance
of the school play
the boy who plays
Prince
and the girl who plays
Cinderilla
all come to Mama and Papa
and they say

'how was it? '

it is like life, in Liao's
divine horizon
when the day is over
no matter how sad and rough
we all run to a set of arms
we are hugged
we are loved.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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No Matter How Alluring The Scent

No matter how alluring the scent,
Of a false implementation...
To smother the reality,
Of what has been covered to dismiss.
There is something false about it.

What is there to benefit,
Isn't a mystery at all.
Since what is there to gift as given,
Will eventually be found...
By those seeking to end their suspicions,
With a researching done.

Or...
Daring to make a personal visit,
To hear for themselves...
From the horse's mouth,
A point of view not rumored.
Or statements attributed discovered to be untrue.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ugly In The Morning

You did one thing wrong
You woke up.
It looked better before
More-more
And the stomach turns...
Say nothing without wasting a word
I know exactly what you meant
I know how piggy feels
He starves without missing a meal
Look in the mirror...
Dont look at me-
Im ugly in the morning
When the headache is gone,
The sun is not.
Forgot to turn the alarm
On-on
Doesnt matter how much you think
Or the number of hairs in the sink
I did it to myself again
I know how piggy feels
He starves without missing a meal
Its getting clearer...
Dont look at me-
Im ugly in the morning

song performed by Faith No More
Added by Lucian Velea
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