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The more laws and order are made prominent, the more thieves and robbers there will be.

quote by Lao-tzu, The Way of Lao-tzu
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Prominent Men

Through all of the highways, the byways Ive travelled
Through all of the sidestreets and alleys of sin
Through all thats been heard nothing sinks quite as low
As the prominent statements of prominent men
Prominent men tell prominent stories
Prominent men tell prominent lies
Prominent men kiss the ass of dame fortune
Prominent men will tear out your eyes
The streets that have life with the cats underbelly
Aligned with their tracks of a thousand good-byes
A poor woman screams with the heat of disaster
As the prominent men sit and strengthen their ties
Oh, the prominent girls of the prominent people
Make prominent dresses and prominent hair
Oh, their prominent wealth and their eyes blazed with shadow
The prominent horrors with the ghost millionaire
The shiny stained window now cracked at sunset
They shiny red dawn of the heart soon must fall
This simply occurred at the seat of the cauldron
Those prominent men hadnt been there at all
Prominent men tell prominent stories
Prominent men tell prominent lies
Prominent men kiss the ass of dame fortune
Prominent men will tear out your eyes
Oh, the prominent child of these prominent people
Seeks prominent schools with the finery of age
With a prominent pink of a tasteless red orchid
The prominent men casts a prominent heir
The child of the agent walks barefoot upon grass
He screams with a power that terrors green eyes
His knife harshly glistening, stabs noways and always
But those prominent men in nowhere in sight
Prominent men tell prominent stories
Prominent men tell prominent lies
Prominent men kiss the ass of dame fortune
Prominent men will tear out your eyes

song performed by Velvet Underground
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Seasonable Retour-Knell

SEASONABLE RETOUR KNELL
Variations on a theme...
SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS

Author notes

A mirrored Retourne may not only be read either from first line to last or from last to first as seen in the mirrors, but also by inverting the first and second phrase of each line, either rhyming AAAA or ABAB for each verse. thus the number of variations could be multiplied several times.- two variations on the theme have been included here but could have been extended as in SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS robi03_0069_robi03_0000

In respect of SEASONABLE ROUND ROBIN ROLE REVERSALS
This composition has sought to explore linguistic potential. Notes and the initial version are placed before rather than after the poem.
Six variations on a theme have been selected out of a significant number of mathematical possibilities using THE SAME TEXT and a reverse mirror for each version. Mirrors repeat the seasons with the lines in reverse order.

For the second roll the first four syllables of each line are reversed, and sense is retained both in the normal order of seasons and the reversed order as well... The 3rd and 4th variations offer ABAB rhyme schemes retaining the original text. The 5th and 6th variations modify the text into rhyming couplets.

Given the linguistical structure of this symphonic composition the score could be read in inversing each and every line and each and every hemistitch. There are minor punctuation differences between versions.

One could probably attain sonnet status for each of the four seasons and through partioning in 3 groups of 4 syllables extend the possibilites ad vitam.

Seasonable Round Robin Roll Reversals
robi03_0069_robi03_0000 QXX_DNZ
Seasonable Retour-Knell
robi03_0070_robi03_0069 QXX_NXX
26 March 1975 rewritten 20070123
lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll lllllllllllllllllll
For previous version see below
_______________________________________
SPRING SUMMER

Life is at ease Young lovers long
Land under plough; To hold their dear;
Whispering trees, Dewdrops among,
Answering cow. Bold, know no fear.

Blossom, the bees, Life full of song,
Burgeoning bough; Cloudless and clear;
Soft-scented breeze, Days fair and long,
Spring warms life now. Summer sends cheer.

AUTUMN WINTER

Each leaf decays, Harvested sheaves
Each life must bow; And honeyed hives;
Our salad days Trees stripped of leaves,
Are ending now. Jack Frost has knives.

Fruit heavy lays Time, Prince of thieves,
Bending the bough, - Onward he drives,

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Hind And The Panther, A Poem In Three Parts : Part III.

Much malice, mingled with a little wit,
Perhaps may censure this mysterious writ;
Because the muse has peopled Caledon
With panthers, bears, and wolves, and beasts unknown,
As if we were not stocked with monsters of our own.
Let Æsop answer, who has set to view
Such kinds as Greece and Phrygia never knew;
And Mother Hubbard, in her homely dress,
Has sharply blamed a British lioness;
That queen, whose feast the factious rabble keep,
Exposed obscenely naked, and asleep.
Led by those great examples, may not I
The wonted organs of their words supply?
If men transact like brutes, 'tis equal then
For brutes to claim the privilege of men.
Others our Hind of folly will indite,
To entertain a dangerous guest by night.
Let those remember, that she cannot die,
Till rolling time is lost in round eternity;
Nor need she fear the Panther, though untamed,
Because the Lion's peace was now proclaimed;
The wary savage would not give offence,
To forfeit the protection of her prince;
But watched the time her vengeance to complete,
When all her furry sons in frequent senate met;
Meanwhile she quenched her fury at the flood,
And with a lenten salad cooled her blood.
Their commons, though but coarse, were nothing scant,
Nor did their minds an equal banquet want.
For now the Hind, whose noble nature strove
To express her plain simplicity of love,
Did all the honours of her house so well,
No sharp debates disturbed the friendly meal.
She turned the talk, avoiding that extreme,
To common dangers past, a sadly-pleasing theme;
Remembering every storm which tossed the state,
When both were objects of the public hate,
And dropt a tear betwixt for her own children's fate.
Nor failed she then a full review to make
Of what the Panther suffered for her sake;
Her lost esteem, her truth, her loyal care,
Her faith unshaken to an exiled heir,
Her strength to endure, her courage to defy,
Her choice of honourable infamy.
On these, prolixly thankful, she enlarged;
Then with acknowledgments herself she charged;
For friendship, of itself an holy tie,
Is made more sacred by adversity.
Now should they part, malicious tongues would say,
They met like chance companions on the way,

[...] Read more

poem by John Dryden
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The Tower Beyond Tragedy

I
You'd never have thought the Queen was Helen's sister- Troy's
burning-flower from Sparta, the beautiful sea-flower
Cut in clear stone, crowned with the fragrant golden mane, she
the ageless, the uncontaminable-
This Clytemnestra was her sister, low-statured, fierce-lipped, not
dark nor blonde, greenish-gray-eyed,
Sinewed with strength, you saw, under the purple folds of the
queen-cloak, but craftier than queenly,
Standing between the gilded wooden porch-pillars, great steps of
stone above the steep street,
Awaiting the King.
Most of his men were quartered on the town;
he, clanking bronze, with fifty
And certain captives, came to the stair. The Queen's men were
a hundred in the street and a hundred
Lining the ramp, eighty on the great flags of the porch; she
raising her white arms the spear-butts
Thundered on the stone, and the shields clashed; eight shining
clarions
Let fly from the wide window over the entrance the wildbirds of
their metal throats, air-cleaving
Over the King come home. He raised his thick burnt-colored
beard and smiled; then Clytemnestra,
Gathering the robe, setting the golden-sandaled feet carefully,
stone by stone, descended
One half the stair. But one of the captives marred the comeliness
of that embrace with a cry
Gull-shrill, blade-sharp, cutting between the purple cloak and
the bronze plates, then Clytemnestra:
Who was it? The King answered: A piece of our goods out of
the snatch of Asia, a daughter of the king,
So treat her kindly and she may come into her wits again. Eh,
you keep state here my queen.
You've not been the poorer for me.- In heart, in the widowed
chamber, dear, she pale replied, though the slaves
Toiled, the spearmen were faithful. What's her name, the slavegirl's?
AGAMEMNON Come up the stair. They tell me my kinsman's
Lodged himself on you.
CLYTEMNESTRA Your cousin Aegisthus? He was out of refuge,
flits between here and Tiryns.
Dear: the girl's name?
AGAMEMNON Cassandra. We've a hundred or so other
captives; besides two hundred
Rotted in the hulls, they tell odd stories about you and your
guest: eh? no matter: the ships
Ooze pitch and the August road smokes dirt, I smell like an
old shepherd's goatskin, you'll have bath-water?
CLYTEMNESTRA
They're making it hot. Come, my lord. My hands will pour it.

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Thieves In The Temple

{long version of thieves in the temple}
I'm holdin' on (i'm holdin' on) the best that i can
Love please, (let me be) let me be the better man
Better than the ones that wanna count me out
Better than the ones that don't know what my love's about
I'm talkin' 'bout the kinda love that can move a mountain
The kinda love that could part the sea
The kinda love that'll last 4 ever
(no matter what u say we should be together)
U should be with me (thieves in the temple)
Yeah, u should be with me
I said i wanna know (talk to me)
One thing (talk to me)
Said i wanna know (talk to me)
I wanna know one thing, baby (talk to me)
How come you said that i was your baby
When u and your love was gonna leave
U led me on, led me on thinkin' u was moses
Herding sheep blindly through a fantasy
U done me wrong (thieves in the temple)
And everybody knows it
Now the sound of my voice is pumpin' in your chest
More or less, i am here to tell u that
I am the best
Better than the rest
Better than the thieves in the temple tonight
Tonight, tonight, tonight, tonight, hurt me
(put it in)
Thieves in the temple
Thieves in the temple
Thieves in the temple
Thieves in the temple tonight
Put your foot on the rock
Let me show you how to clock
Put your foot on the rock
Let me show you how to clock
Thieves in the temple
(what the....?)
Who got the party, who got the party, who?
Who got the party, who got the party, who?
Who got the party, who got the party, who?
Who got the party, who got the party, who?
(hurt me)
Thieves in the temple

song performed by Prince
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Saints An Sinners

(coverdale/lord/moody/marsden/murray/paice)
Get ready for judgement day
An the final curtain call,
Dont lie when you testify
cos the good lord know youre all
Saints an sinners, priests an thieves,
Saints an sinners, priests an thieves
When moses stood on the red sea shore
Laying the law on the line,
He said dont come knocking
On the pearly gates
If all you did was have a real good time
Saints an sinners, priests an thieves,
Saints an sinners, priests an thieves
For what we are about to receive
May the lord make us truly thankful.
Saints an sinners
I stand guilty of a thousand crimes,
An I suffer temptation still,
Show me a man who wont give it to his woman
An Ill show you somebody who will
Saints an sinners, priests an thieves,
Saints an sinners, priests an thieves
For what we are about to receive
May the lord make us truly thankful
Saints an sinners,
Saints an sinners, priests an thieves,
Get ready for judgement day
An the final curtain call,
Dont lie when you testify
cos the good lord know youre all
Saints an sinners, priests an thieves,
Saints an sinners, priests an thieves
For what we are about to receive
May the lord make us truly thankful
Saints an sinners, priests an thieves
Saints an sinners...

song performed by Whitesnake
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Absalom and Achitophel

In pious times, e'er Priest-craft did begin,
Before Polygamy was made a sin;
When man, on many, multiply'd his kind,
E'r one to one was, cursedly, confind:
When Nature prompted, and no law deny'd
Promiscuous use of Concubine and Bride;
Then, Israel's monarch, after Heaven's own heart,
His vigorous warmth did, variously, impart
To Wives and Slaves; And, wide as his Command,
Scatter'd his Maker's Image through the Land.
Michal, of Royal blood, the Crown did wear,
A Soyl ungratefull to the Tiller's care;
Not so the rest; for several Mothers bore
To Godlike David, several Sons before.
But since like slaves his bed they did ascend,
No True Succession could their seed attend.
Of all this Numerous Progeny was none
So Beautifull, so brave as Absalon:
Whether, inspir'd by some diviner Lust,
His father got him with a greater Gust;
Or that his Conscious destiny made way
By manly beauty to Imperiall sway.
Early in Foreign fields he won Renown,
With Kings and States ally'd to Israel's Crown
In Peace the thoughts of War he could remove,
And seem'd as he were only born for love.
What e'er he did was done with so much ease,
In him alone, 'twas Natural to please.
His motions all accompanied with grace;
And Paradise was open'd in his face.
With secret Joy, indulgent David view'd
His Youthfull Image in his Son renew'd:
To all his wishes Nothing he deny'd,
And made the Charming Annabel his Bride.
What faults he had (for who from faults is free?)
His Father could not, or he would not see.
Some warm excesses, which the Law forbore,
Were constru'd Youth that purg'd by boyling o'r:
And Amnon's Murther, by a specious Name,
Was call'd a Just Revenge for injur'd Fame.
Thus Prais'd, and Lov'd, the Noble Youth remain'd,
While David, undisturb'd, in Sion raign'd.
But Life can never be sincerely blest:
Heaven punishes the bad, and proves the best.
The Jews, a Headstrong, Moody, Murmuring race,
As ever try'd th' extent and stretch of grace;
God's pamper'd people whom, debauch'd with ease,
No King could govern, nor no God could please;
(Gods they had tri'd of every shape and size
That Gods-smiths could produce, or Priests devise.)

[...] Read more

poem by John Dryden
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The Inner Voice - Conscience

Laws on earth can be made, unmade;
Laws can be bettered or worsened by change;
Laws may be just or unjust and never perfect;
Laws can be changed for comfort and convenience.

Laws may change from time to time;
Laws cannot reflect truth always;
Laws depend on the constituent makers;
Laws can never be ideal for all times!

But the inner Voice -the Conscience is static;
It always speaks the truth irrevocably;
It is not transmutable anytime;
It can never lie ever even by chance.

The Inner Voice scores over laws always;
One's conscience always tells what is right;
Freedom of man's conscience is paramount;
Laws to stifle the Inner Voice are simply futile!

Laws are needed but must be just and fair;
Laws aren't needed to fetter the conscience;
Laws are man-made and transmutable;
Conscience is God-given, remaining the same in everyone!

Obey the laws when they are fair and just;
Heed to your Conscience, God's law-maker within!

Copyright by Dr John Celes 14-02-12

poem by John Celes
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The Treasure Of The Wise Man

O the night was dark and the night was late,
And the robbers came to rob him;
And they picked the locks of his palace-gate,
The robbers that came to rob him--
They picked the locks of his palace-gate,
Seized his jewels and gems of state,
His coffers of gold and his priceless plate,--
The robbers that came to rob him.

But loud laughed he in the morning red!--
For of what had the robbers robbed him?--
Ho! hidden safe, as he slept in bed,
When the robbers came to rob him,--
They robbed him not of a golden shred
Of the childish dreams in his wise old head--
'And they're welcome to all things else,' he said,
When the robbers came to rob him.

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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The Man And The Robbers

A MAN HAD GONE TO HIS BANK AND WITHDREW A LARGE SUM OF MONEY, AND ON HIS WAY BACK, HE SUDDENLY HAPPENED UPON A CREW OF ROBBERS AND HE TURNED BACK AND RAN AWAY AS FAST AS HIS LEGS COULD RUN!
AS HE RAN AWAY, HE SUDDENLY RAN INTO A CREW OF NIGERIAN POLICEMEN! AND THE MAN WAS FLABBERGASTED, HE DIDN'T KNOW WHICH WAY TO RUN ANYMORE AND HE SUDDENLY TURNED BACK AND BEGAN TO RUN TOWARDS THE ROBBERS AND HE SHOUTED AS HE RAN, WAIT MR ROBBER! WAIT!
THE SURPRISED ROBBERS STOOD WHILE HE CAME TO THEM AND HUMBLY HANDED THE MONEY OVER TO THEM, AND ONE OF THEM ASKED, WHY DID YOU RETURN TO GIVE US THE MONEY WE WANTED TO ROB YOU OF? AND HE REPLIED, OH, AS I RAN AWAY FROM YOU, I RAN INTO A CREW OF NIGERIAN POLICEMEN! AND I DECIDED TO COME BACK AND GIVE YOU ROBBERS THE MONEY INSTEAD!
A CURIOUS ROBBER ASKED, WHY DID YOU PREFER TO GIVE US THE MONEY? AND THE MAN SAID, OH, WELL, YOU ROBBERS WOULD ROB ME AND LEAVE ME ALIVE, BUT THE NIGERIAN POLICEMEN WOULD ROB ME, THEN SHOOT ME DEAD AND TELL THE WORLD THAT I WAS THE ROBBER! STATED THE MAN TO THE ASTONISHED ROBBERS

poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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Coming Down Hard On Crime

They're coming down hard on crime.
And this you can believe.
All eyes will open wide.
And deceit and thieves,
Will cease to be.

So hold your head erect!
And know this will happen soon.
And sing a happy song.
Knowing we'll soon be crook free!

Come from behind those bushes,
Children.
Come...
Come sing along with me!
The 'boogeyman' is gone.

They're coming down hard on crime.
Sing...
('Coming down hard on crime...')
And this you can believe.
('This we can believe...')
I think you've got it.
All eyes will open wide
('Our eyes are open wide...
And deceit and thieves have ceased to be.')

Very nice!

Yes...
Deceit and thieves.
('Yes deceit and thieves')
Yes...
Deceit and thieves.
('Yes deceit and thieves')

YES...
DECEIT and THIEVES.
('DECEIT and THIEVES')
Together and raise our voices high!
YES...
DECEIT and THIEVES...
HAVE CEASED
TO
BE!

Marvelous children!
Wasn't that a 'happy tune'?

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto II

THE ARGUMENT

The Saints engage in fierce Contests
About their Carnal interests;
To share their sacrilegious Preys,
According to their Rates of Grace;
Their various Frenzies to reform,
When Cromwel left them in a Storm
Till, in th' Effigy of Rumps, the Rabble
Burns all their Grandees of the Cabal.

THE learned write, an insect breeze
Is but a mungrel prince of bees,
That falls before a storm on cows,
And stings the founders of his house;
From whose corrupted flesh that breed
Of vermin did at first proceed.
So e're the storm of war broke out,
Religion spawn'd a various rout
Of petulant Capricious sects,
The maggots of corrupted texts,
That first run all religion down,
And after ev'ry swarm its own.
For as the Persian Magi once
Upon their mothers got their sons,
That were incapable t' enjoy
That empire any other way;
So PRESBYTER begot the other
Upon the good old Cause, his mother,
Then bore then like the Devil's dam,
Whose son and husband are the same.
And yet no nat'ral tie of blood
Nor int'rest for the common good
Cou'd, when their profits interfer'd,
Get quarter for each other's beard.
For when they thriv'd, they never fadg'd,
But only by the ears engag'd:
Like dogs that snarl about a bone,
And play together when they've none,
As by their truest characters,
Their constant actions, plainly appears.
Rebellion now began, for lack
Of zeal and plunders to grow slack;
The Cause and covenant to lessen,
And Providence to b' out of season:
For now there was no more to purchase
O' th' King's Revenue, and the Churches,
But all divided, shar'd, and gone,
That us'd to urge the Brethren on;
Which forc'd the stubborn'st for the Cause,

[...] Read more

poem by Samuel Butler
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Tale I

That all men would be cowards if they dare,
Some men we know have courage to declare;
And this the life of many a hero shows,
That, like the tide, man's courage ebbs and flows:
With friends and gay companions round them, then
Men boldly speak and have the hearts of men;
Who, with opponents seated miss the aid
Of kind applauding looks, and grow afraid;
Like timid travelers in the night, they fear
Th' assault of foes, when not a friend is near.
In contest mighty, and of conquest proud,
Was Justice Bolt, impetuous, warm, and loud;
His fame, his prowess all the country knew,
And disputants, with one so fierce, were few:
He was a younger son, for law design'd,
With dauntless look and persevering mind;
While yet a clerk, for disputation famed,
No efforts tired him, and no conflicts tamed.
Scarcely he bade his master's desk adieu,
When both his brothers from the world withdrew.
An ample fortune he from them possessed,
And was with saving care and prudence bless'd.
Now would he go and to the country give
Example how an English 'squire should live;
How bounteous, yet how frugal man may be,
By well-order'd hospitality;
He would the rights of all so well maintain.
That none should idle be, and none complain.
All this and more he purposed--and what man
Could do, he did to realise his plan;
But time convinced him that we cannot keep
A breed of reasoners like a flock of sheep;
For they, so far from following as we lead,
Make that a cause why they will not proceed.
Man will not follow where a rule is shown,
But loves to take a method of his own:
Explain the way with all your care and skill,
This will he quit, if but to prove he will. -
Yet had our Justice honour--and the crowd,
Awed by his presence, their respect avow'd.
In later years he found his heart incline,
More than in youth, to gen'rous food and wine;
But no indulgence check'd the powerful love
He felt to teach, to argue, and reprove.
Meetings, or public calls, he never miss'd -
To dictate often, always to assist.
Oft he the clergy join'd, and not a cause
Pertain'd to them but he could quote the laws;
He upon tithes and residence display'd
A fund of knowledge for the hearer's aid;

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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Laws

Laws created to curb the rise of domestic violence.
Laws created to curb the rise of racial tensions.
Laws created to curb interpretations,
Of what is and what is not politically correct.
But those who are corrupted and create the laws...
Can not see their own flaws,
That initiate the mess.

Laws created to curb a racial profiling on the rise.
Laws created to curb a greed that has affected lives.
Laws that limit freedoms to blatantly discriminate...
Those who do this anyway,
No matter what the laws are to perpetuate a hate.

Laws created to curb the rise of domestic violence.
Laws created to curb the rise of racial tensions.
Laws created to curb interpretations,
Of what is and what is not politically correct.
But those who are corrupted and create the laws...
Can not see their own flaws,
That initiate the mess.

And those upset by these laws,
Want more of them and yet neglect!
Like 'Commandments' given no respect.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Interpretation of Nature and

I.

MAN, being the servant and interpreter of Nature, can do and understand so much and so much only as he has observed in fact or in thought of the course of nature: beyond this he neither knows anything nor can do anything.


II.

Neither the naked hand nor the understanding left to itself can effect much. It is by instruments and helps that the work is done, which are as much wanted for the understanding as for the hand. And as the instruments of the hand either give motion or guide it, so the instruments of the mind supply either suggestions for the understanding or cautions.

III.

Human knowledge and human power meet in one; for where the cause is not known the effect cannot be produced. Nature to be commanded must be obeyed; and that which in contemplation is as the cause is in operation as the rule.

IV.

Towards the effecting of works, all that man can do is to put together or put asunder natural bodies. The rest is done by nature working within.

V.

The study of nature with a view to works is engaged in by the mechanic, the mathematician, the physician, the alchemist, and the magician; but by all (as things now are) with slight endeavour and scanty success.

VI.

It would be an unsound fancy and self-contradictory to expect that things which have never yet been done can be done except by means which have never yet been tried.

VII.

The productions of the mind and hand seem very numerous in books and manufactures. But all this variety lies in an exquisite subtlety and derivations from a few things already known; not in the number of axioms.

VIII.

Moreover the works already known are due to chance and experiment rather than to sciences; for the sciences we now possess are merely systems for the nice ordering and setting forth of things already invented; not methods of invention or directions for new works.

IX.

The cause and root of nearly all evils in the sciences is this -- that while we falsely admire and extol the powers of the human mind we neglect to seek for its true helps.

X.

The subtlety of nature is greater many times over than the subtlety of the senses and understanding; so that all those specious meditations, speculations, and glosses in which men indulge are quite from the purpose, only there is no one by to observe it.

XI.

As the sciences which we now have do not help us in finding out new works, so neither does the logic which we now have help us in finding out new sciences.

XII.

The logic now in use serves rather to fix and give stability to the errors which have their foundation in commonly received notions than to help the search after truth. So it does more harm than good.

XIII.

[...] Read more

poem by Sir Francis Bacon
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Startled Are Those Robbers

Startled are those robbers,
That had came to thieve.
Quite startled are those robbers stunned,
Begging for a forgiveness on bended knees.

And the hiding places,
Where startled robbers had once hid...
Are blocked to stop an entry,
With cracks and crevices from them now sealed.

Startled are those robbers...
Finding no one wants to bother.
No one wants to bother with robbers...
Chased away and startled by the mobs.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When The Economy Started To Slip

When the economy started to slip,
Who was not aware of it?
And...
Who pocketed the funds,
Away from everyone?

When the economy started to slip,
Who was not aware of it?
And...
Who pocketed the funds,
Away from everyone?

Who didn't know,
Who fed at the feast.
And who didn't know,
Who fed their greed.
And who didn't know,
Who were the cheats.
And who didn't know,
Thieves! ?

Who didn't know,
Who fed at the feast.
And who didn't know,
Who fed their greed.
And who didn't know,
Who were the cheats.
And who didn't know,
Thieves! ?

When the economy started to slip,
Who was not aware of it?
And...
Who pocketed the funds,
Away from everyone?

Who didn't know,
Who fed at the feast.
And who didn't know,
Who fed their greed.
And who didn't know,
Who were the cheats.
And who didn't know,
Thieves! ?

When the economy started to slip...
Who didn't know,
Who fed at the feast.
And who didn't know,

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Vision Of Columbus - Book 8

And now the Angel, from the trembling sight,
Veil'd the wide world–when sudden shades of night
Move o'er the ethereal vault; the starry train
Paint their dim forms beneath the placid main;
While earth and heaven, around the hero's eye,
Seem arch'd immense, like one surrounding sky.
Still, from the Power superior splendors shone,
The height emblazing like a radiant throne;
To converse sweet the soothing shades invite,
And on the guide the hero fix'd his sight.
Kind messenger of Heaven, he thus began,
Why this progressive labouring search of man?
If man by wisdom form'd hath power to reach
These opening truths that following ages teach,
Step after step, thro' devious mazes, wind,
And fill at last the measure of the mind,
Why did not Heaven, with one unclouded ray,
All human arts and reason's powers display?
That mad opinions, sects and party strife
Might find no place t'imbitter human life.
To whom the Angelic Power; to thee 'tis given,
To hold high converse, and enquire of heaven,
To mark uncircled ages and to trace
The unfolding truths that wait thy kindred race.
Know then, the counsels of th'unchanging Mind,
Thro' nature's range, progressive paths design'd,
Unfinish'd works th'harmonious system grace,
Thro' all duration and around all space;
Thus beauty, wisdom, power, their parts unroll,
Till full perfection joins the accordant whole.
So the first week, beheld the progress rise,
Which form'd the earth and arch'd th'incumbant skies.
Dark and imperfect first, the unbeauteous frame,
From vacant night, to crude existence came;
Light starr'd the heavens and suns were taught their bound,
Winds woke their force, and floods their centre found;
Earth's kindred elements, in joyous strife,
Warm'd the glad glebe to vegetable life,
Till sense and power and action claim'd their place,
And godlike reason crown'd the imperial race.
Progressive thus, from that great source above,
Flows the fair fountain of redeeming love.
Dark harbingers of hope, at first bestow'd,
Taught early faith to feel her path to God:
Down the prophetic, brightening train of years,
Consenting voices rose of different seers,
In shadowy types display'd the accomplish'd plan,
When filial Godhead should assume the man,
When the pure Church should stretch her arms abroad,
Fair as a bride and liberal as her God;

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poem by Joel Barlow
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An Essay on Criticism

Part I

INTRODUCTION. That it is as great a fault to judge ill as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to the public. That a true Taste is as rare to be found as a true Genius. That most men are born with some Taste, but spoiled by false education. The multitude of Critics, and causes of them. That we are to study our own Taste, and know the limits of it. Nature the best guide of judgment. Improved by Art and rules, which are but methodized Nature. Rules derived from the practice of the ancient poets. That therefore the ancients are necessary to be studied by a Critic, particularly Homer and Virgil. Of licenses, and the use of them by the ancients. Reverence due to the ancients, and praise of them.

'Tis hard to say if greater want of skill
Appear in writing or in judging ill;
But of the two less dangerous is th'offence
To tire our patience than mislead our sense:
Some few in that, but numbers err in this;
Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss;
A fool might once himself alone expose;
Now one in verse makes many more in prose.

'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none
Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
In Poets as true Genius is but rare,
True Taste as seldom is the Critic's share;
Both must alike from Heav'n derive their light,
These born to judge, as well as those to write.
Let such teach others who themselves excel,
And censure freely who have written well;
Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true,
But are not Critics to their judgment too?

Yet if we look more closely, we shall find
Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind:
Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light;
The lines, tho' touch'd but faintly, are drawn right:
But as the slightest sketch, if justly traced,
Is by ill col'ring but the more disgraced,
So by false learning is good sense defaced:
Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,
And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools:
In search of wit these lose their common sense,
And then turn Critics in their own defence:
Each burns alike, who can or cannot write,
Or with a rival's or an eunuch's spite.
All fools have still an itching to deride,
And fain would be upon the laughing side.
If Mævius scribble in Apollo's spite,
There are who judge still worse than he can write.

Some have at first for Wits, then Poets pass'd;
Turn'd Critics next, and prov'd plain Fools at last.
Some neither can for Wits nor Critics pass,
As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.
Those half-learn'd witlings, numerous in our isle,
As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;
Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call,

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poem by Alexander Pope
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The Boomer's Lament (A Country Western Song)

By the order of the Marshall
We don't live here any more
Our stuff is on the lawn
and there's a padlock on our door.
Then, while I was distracted,
reading the decree
Thieves made off with my HDTV

I once worked as a loan officer
at Mega Billions bank
We made some bad decisions
as the staff and assets shrank.
I was escorted from my desk
the day I got the shank-
My Boss made bonus- he has
TARP to thank.

By the order of the Marshall
We don't live here any more
Our stuff is on the lawn
and there's a padlock on our door.
Then, while I was distracted,
reading the decree
Thieves made off with my HDTV.

My Kid is off in College
working hard for his degree
He'll graduate with a B.S.
in compared Anatomy.
When his student loans come due
He'd better not ask me
Twenty two and out is my decree.

By the order of the Marshall
We don't live here any more
Our stuff is on the lawn
and there's a padlock on our door.
Then, while I was distracted,
reading the decree,
Thieves made off with my HDTV.

I got our stuff in storage
and we're down at Motel Six
It's hard for us to sleep at night-
The girl next door turns tricks.
Our bank accounts yield nothing
and We're hostage to the VIX
I gave up my season tickets to the Knicks.

By the order of the Marshall

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poem by John F. McCullagh
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