Citatepedia^®.com

With Beliefs Their Misdeeds Are Not Perceived

No one achieves heights of success,
Professing what they have done...
Is at their best.
When what they have taken,
Is from someone else's nest.
To impress with accolades,
They expect to get!

Perhaps 'temporarily'...
They may strut in a charading,
With claims to attest!
But a theft is what it is.
And eventually faces protest and regret.
Upsetting not the victim...
But those who deceive,
With beliefs their misdeeds are not perceived!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Victim of his own Success

Man, victim of his own success, must fast grasp opportunity
to offer all equality of chances and advances stress
as the ability to press for rights for disability
the strong ignore, or fail to bless.

Man, victim of his own success, does not deserve impunity
when biosphere supportive he still stifles in the name of, - guess, -
‘Democracy’, free-choice oppress through ways of ta[l]king liberty
as only freedom to repress.

Man, victim of his own success, - tale’s pun, - few marks of modesty
retains, yet with anxiety observes galactic game of chess
while most Earth’s problems won’t address. This manifest dichotomy
highlights concerns we should assess.

Man, victim of his own success, needs to transcend his history
predative, channel energy towards solutions which suppress
his immaturity, redress the balance of society,
extend awareness free from stress.

Man, victim of his own success, must sail beyond tsunami he
created to a safer sea where winds of change may not express
a whirlwind strange that all confess none can control. Society
must change or soon will sink, regress.

Man, victim of his own success, must map return to sanity,
respect with assiduity the planet’s need to convalesce,
create conditions which attest acceptance by humanity
of overview which won’t aggress.

Man, victim of his own success, must understand ecology
requires intrinsic harmony, may join “I wish” to “I possess”
providing much more, - never less, - is harvested with equity,
without the urge to dispossess.

Man, victim of his own success should heed the lessons most agree
accompany pride’s apogee, and not attempt to second guess
the seasons’ reasons or finesse. Where just fat few progress we see
misuse far more than maladdresse.

Man, victim of his own success, beyond base skills of repartee,
should take time off from Time to key into distortions which transgress
ideals which should not ever stress the views of tight community
or vested interests. Nonetheless, -

Man, victim of his own success, must meet the challenges that he
has catalyzed - calamity around the corner waits unless
he acts - declines to acquiesque with urbane equanimity, -
protects his progeny’s success…

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

They Themselves Deceive

When people sell with a doing,
To those who become sold...
They themselves deceive.
With a doing done they say they do,
They themselves deceive.
They themselves deceive.
Since many possess college degrees....
In the hopes to receive achievement to get,
Competence with a common sense...
But they themselves deceive...
With minds feeding on 'bling' and greed.!

People like this are not taught how to feel,
A difference between what is fake and what's real.
They themselves deceive.
With a thinking they do this to other people,
They themselves deceive.
People like this are not taught to assess,
Correct ways to live and with honesty best.
People who cheat find it weak to confess.
They themselves deceive,
Unknowing it with doing!
They themselves deceive.

They themselves deceive!
With a making of lies to tell and sell.
They themselves deceive!
And a manifesting of this done too well.
They themselves deceive!
They themselves deceive!
They themselves deceive!
With a making of lies to tell and sell.
They themselves deceive.
With a manifesting of this done too well.

They themselves deceive.
With a growing of this to be known and shown.
They themselves deceive.
With a growing of this to be known and shown.
They themselves deceive.
They themselves deceive.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Mr. Brown

[Bob Marley]
(Ooh - ooh - ooh - ooh)
(It's Mr Brown) Mr Brown is a clown who rides to town in a coffin.
(Well, here he comes) In the top is ... three rows on top and two inside there.
Oh, what a confusion! Ooh, yeah, yeah!
What a botheration! Ooh, now, now!
Who is Mr Brown? I wanna know now!
He is nowhere to be found.
From Mandeville to slide-a-ville, coffin runnin' around,
Upsetting, upsetting, upsetting the town,
Asking for Mr Brown.
From Mandeville to slide-a-ville, coffin runnin' around,
upsetting, upsetting, upsetting the town,
Asking for Mr Brown.
I wanna know who (is Mr Brown)?
Is Mr Brown controlled by remote?
O-o-oh, calling duppy conqueror,
I'm the ghost-catcher!
This is your chance, oh big, big Bill bull-bucka,
Take your chance! Prove yourself! Oh, yeah!
Down in parade
People runnin like a masquerade.
The police make a raid,
But the people - oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah - they think it
fade.
What a thing in town
Crows chauffeur-driven around,
Skankin' as if they had never known
The man they call "Mr Brown".
I can tell you where he's from now:
From Mandeville to slide-a-ville, coffin runnin' around,
Upsetting, upsetting, upsetting the town,
Asking for Mr Brown.
From Mandeville to slide-a-ville -
/fadeout/

song performed by Bob Marley
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

I Choose To Be A Rooster

I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed from being locked up inside of a coop.
I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed.
I can strut it like a rooster,
To cluck as I please.

I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed from being locked up inside of a coop.
I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed.
I can strut it like a rooster,
To cluck as I please.

And before the dawn,
I can disturb your sleep.
And as the Sun arises,
You wont hear from me a peep.
Because,
I choose to be a rooster.

I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed.
I can strut it like a rooster,
To cluck as I please.

And before the dawn,
I can disturb your sleep.
And as the Sun arises,
You wont hear from me a peep.
Because,
I choose to be a rooster.

I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed from being locked up inside of a coop.
I can strut it like a rooster,
Recently freed.
I can strut it like a rooster,
To cluck as I please.
Because,
I choose to be a rooster.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

(Choices Poem) Circumstances Unending

If you had to choose what would you do
Circumstances unending
A victim of life
A victim of death
A victim of compromises
A heart in pain either way.
To make your world a little more okay

To let the one you love go for the better
Or the happiness of poverty in suffering
Like a mother choosing for a child
you must make the decision out of true love.
Forever the greater good.
The eagle looks upon us all with his eyes.
Only if I could see it that way.

If you had to choose what would you do
Circumstances unending
A victim of life
A victim of death
A victim of compromises
A heart in pain either way.
To make your world a little more okay

When you do such a thing their is no going back
Chasing after something you threw away.
All in a attempt to be the better man.
The homeless playing a game of kick the can.
Nobody ever wins.
It is to pass time as it will always do.

If you had to choose what would you do
Circumstances unending
A victim of life
A victim of death
A victim of compromises
A heart in pain either way.
To make your world a little more okay

Regret and bitter
Feelings that will never sit well with you
Your determined to overcome, and it not be prolonged
She is gone.
Forever a bad choice.
That you wouldn't want to change.

If you had to choose what would you do
Circumstances unending
A victim of life
A victim of death

[...] Read more

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Just Another Victim

ARTIST Helmet
@ARTIST House of Pain
Victimized
But you're in bed
Stumble out
and run dead
If it ever paid
To sell (a?) (start?) (star? *sigh*)
Enviroment
make you smart
Just another victim
Just another victim
Just another victim, kid
I heard it once
but not before
(taking? or begging?) off
and livin bored
my hands are tied
webbed feet again
fell in behind
and claim us dead(?)
Just another victim
Just another victim, (says something that starts with an S, or
has an S in it? :)
Just another victim
Cast this
(?)
Give it up
I'll lie to you
(Blamin? Flamin? Played in?) Flame this
(?)
Pointed finger
You fall apart
Just another victim
Just another victim
Just another victim
(fade to HOP)
You played yourself now you point the finger
How i've robbed and raped ya, bruised and scraped ya
but those are just lies, cause in your eyes you've been victimized
It's how you size it up, you disguise it up, and try to make it look real
To cover up the low self esteem you feel
Introspection an afterthought, swimmin in guilt your favorite sport
But now you're caught up in the undertow, you never knew a man could sink
so low
But now you know, cause you're John Doe
In a black bag a tag on your toe
I built the House
I felt the Pain
You're victimized but got no one to blame

[...] Read more

song performed by Helmet
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Expect No Mercy

If youre ready for the street
You wanna mix it in some fight
Let me tell you somethin
Now I dont wanna get you uptight
But if youre in a corner
And you cant find no way out
Dont look around for no help
No, no there wont be any around
Expect no mercy, expect no mercy
Expect no mercy, expect no mercy
So you think you got a case
And you think you know the score
No you dont wanna listen
You cant be told no more
But waitll you get out there
You better do it right
cause the streets are lined with things that kill
And theyre hidin in the night
Expect no mercy, expect no mercy
Expect no mercy, expect no mercy
Expect no mercy, expect no mercy
Expect no mercy, expect no mercy
Feel that you can cut it
You think you got the time
Theyll only give you one chance
Better get it right first time
And the game youre playing
If you lose you gotta pay
If you make just one wrong move
Youll get blown away
Expect no mercy, expect no mercy
Expect no mercy, expect no mercy
Expect no mercy, expect no mercy
Expect no mercy, expect no mercy
Words and music by dan mccafferty, manny charlton, pete agnew,
And darrell sweet
(copyright 1977 mtb music,inc. for canada and u.s.a.)
(copyright 1977 nazsongs/panache music ltd. for the rest of the world
International copyright secured
All rights reserved.

song performed by Nazareth
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi

Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Don't Putter In the Muck

Don't putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.

Don't putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.

Don't putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.
Pack that sad act you do,
And put it away!

Don't putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.

Don't putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.

Don't putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.
Pack that sad act you do...
And put it away!

Don't economize,
Your happiness.
One bit.
Give that up!

Don't apologize,
For an 'is' that 'is'
Don't quit.
OR give that up!

Don't get paralyzed,
When the lies fly.
And you realize
That the lies are all about you!
Just don't,
Putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.
Just don't,
Putter in the muck too much.
Give that up.
And learn to strut your stuff.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Victim Of Love

(coverdale)
Im down on love
An I dont give a damn,
I take my chances
Whenever I can
Like a lamb to the slaughter,
Another sacrifice,
For giving love to woman
With a heart stone cold as ice
Im down on love
An Im clean out of pain,
I aint no stranger
To the crying game
Too scared to suffer,
An too blind to see,
But, I played with fire
An I got what was coming to me
Now, one more heartache
Dont bother me,
Just one more lonely night
To drown in misery
I am a victim of love,
A victim of love,
Lord, I never thought
Id be a victim of love
Victim of love, victim of love,
Lord, I never thought
Id be a victim of love
Im down on love
An I feel like a fool
To beg for mercy
cos I broke the rules
So do me no favours
With your cool advice,
I know the losing cost,
An Ill pay the price
One more heartache
Dont bother me
One more lonely night
To drown in misery
I am a victim of love,
A victim of love,
Lord, I never thought
Id be a victim of love
Victim of love,
A victim of love,
Lord, I never thought
Id be a victim of love
One more heartache
Dont bother me

[...] Read more

song performed by Whitesnake
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Dreams of Jhana

Thoughts travel
riding the ripples.
Pluvial pattering
innumerable
driblets fuse into
vast cyan-blue body.
Solemn reverie,
reflections by the water.
Coincidental myths?
Matter's solid illusion?
Propaganda spread
over Linear Time?
natural hidden treasures
lost in a darkened sub-region
of a mountain top Mind?

Pining amongst
heathers and lindens.
Nasal donations.
Sweet nosegays
baskets of gold
and lavender.
Sky bohemians'
organic tenements.
No leases
no mortgages
no rent to be paid
no landlords
no concept of
ownership.

Inhaling every
deep delicious breath
the airborne essence of
sugar beets
cherries
blueberries
peaches and plums.
Thanks and praise
to the soil and its
generous sentient
pillars of plenty!
Thanks and praise
to the Great Lakes'
fecund mitten and
most bountiful
open hand of
vegetation!

Bluebells sway

[...] Read more

poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Victories Of Love. Book II

I
From Jane To Her Mother

Thank Heaven, the burthens on the heart
Are not half known till they depart!
Although I long'd, for many a year,
To love with love that casts out fear,
My Frederick's kindness frighten'd me,
And heaven seem'd less far off than he;
And in my fancy I would trace
A lady with an angel's face,
That made devotion simply debt,
Till sick with envy and regret,
And wicked grief that God should e'er
Make women, and not make them fair.
That he might love me more because
Another in his memory was,
And that my indigence might be
To him what Baby's was to me,
The chief of charms, who could have thought?
But God's wise way is to give nought
Till we with asking it are tired;
And when, indeed, the change desired
Comes, lest we give ourselves the praise,
It comes by Providence, not Grace;
And mostly our thanks for granted pray'rs
Are groans at unexpected cares.
First Baby went to heaven, you know,
And, five weeks after, Grace went, too.
Then he became more talkative,
And, stooping to my heart, would give
Signs of his love, which pleased me more
Than all the proofs he gave before;
And, in that time of our great grief,
We talk'd religion for relief;
For, though we very seldom name
Religion, we now think the same!
Oh, what a bar is thus removed
To loving and to being loved!
For no agreement really is
In anything when none's in this.
Why, Mother, once, if Frederick press'd
His wife against his hearty breast,
The interior difference seem'd to tear
My own, until I could not bear
The trouble. 'Twas a dreadful strife,
And show'd, indeed, that faith is life.
He never felt this. If he did,
I'm sure it could not have been hid;
For wives, I need not say to you,

[...] Read more

poem by Coventry Patmore
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Everybody's A Victim

Everybody's a victim
Seems we're going that way
Everybody's a victim
We're becoming like the USA
Everybody's a victim
Seems we're going that way
Everybody's a victim
We're becoming like the USA
I demand recompense
For sitting on the fence
Throughout my adult life
You've got to put my parents in jail
For raising me in Fife
It doesn't matter what I do
You have to say it's alright
And I need you to send somebody around
To tuck me in at night
Because...
Everybody's a victim
Seems we're going that way
Everybody's a victim
We're becoming like the USA
Well it's not my fault
That I'm positive
I just stuck a needle in my arm
And nobody told me
That sixty a day
Would do me any harm
My liver's shrivelling like a leaf
But it's not the whisky that doo's it
Call me irresponsible
And I'm really going to lose it
Because...
Everybody's a victim
Seems we're going that way
Everybody's a victim
We're becoming like the USA
Wear a ribbon for this
Hug a stranger for that
Light a candle to the dead
And soon you'll forget
That you ever had
A brain inside our head
We value everythin the same
We turn it into farce
So we don't know a crisis
'Till it kicks us up the arse
Because...
Everybody's a victim
Seems we're going that way

[...] Read more

song performed by Proclaimers
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Blame the Victim

Blame the victim.
Steal from them.
Blame the victim.
Isolate them.
Blame the victim.
And use this as your defense.
Blame the victim.
If it enhances your life,
With a purpose meant.

Blame the victim.
Steal from them.
Blame the victim.
Isolate them.
Blame the victim.
And use this as your defense.
Blame the victim.
If it enhances your life,
With a purpose meant.

Blame the victim.
If it enhances your life,
With a purpose meant.

Blame the victim.
If it enhances your life,
With a purpose meant.

Blame the victim.
If it enhances your life,
With a purpose meant.

Blame the victim.
Blame the victim.
Blame the victim.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

I Don't Expect Respect

I don't expect...
Understanding from anyone selfish.
I don't expect...
A comprehension from someone among,
Those who have not sacrificed.
Or...
Those who live self-centered lives.

I don't expect...
Understanding from anyone selfish.
I don't expect...
A comprehension from someone among,
Those who have not sacrificed.
Or...
Those who live self-centered lives.

I don't expect...
Respect,
From them to get.

I don't expect...
Respect,
From them to get.

I don't expect...
Understanding from anyone selfish.
I don't expect...
A comprehension from someone among,
Those who have not sacrificed.
Or...
Those who live self-centered lives.

I don't expect...
Respect,
From them to get.
I don't expect...
Understanding from anyone selfish.
I don't expect...
Respect,
From them to get.

I don't expect...
A comprehension from someone among,
Those who have not sacrificed.
Or...
Those who live self-centered lives.

I don't expect...
Respect,
From them to get.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator

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

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

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

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

V. Count Guido Franceschini

Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Breaking All The Rules

You don't know what I know, do yah.
Do yah, do yah.

Deceit defeated will end all misdeeds.

You don't know what I know, do yah.
Do yah, do yah.

Deceit defeated will end all misdeeds.

You'll be stopped from braking all the rules.
And...
Stopped from doing tricky things you do.

You don't know what I know, do yah.
Do yah, do yah.
You don't know what I know.

You don't know what I know, do yah.
Do yah, do yah.
You don't know what I know.

Many want it kept pursued,
The...
Duping and the suckering to fool,
THEY DO!

You don't know what I know, do yah.
Do yah, do yah.
You don't know what I know.

You don't know what I know, do yah.
Do yah, do yah.
You don't know what I know.

An ending to the breaking all the rules,
Is coming soon...
With deceit defeated.
With deceit defeated.
And...
None of it to be repeated deeds.

I can feel it!

You don't know what I know, do yah.
Do yah, do yah...
Deceit defeated will end these misdeeds.

An ending to the breaking all the rules,
Is coming...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Paying The Wrong Guys

To the artist you claim to support.
Why do you continue to rip off.
An abandon moral objective.
Just because advertisement says free.
Just buy a song or cd.
A single song, a single cd.

It is not an evil industry.
Most of artist produce their own labels.
And regardless they still receive their royalties.
Yet we still prefer the illegal activities.
The kingdom of piracy.
Just buy a song or cd.

With Google we spy everything.
Including these companies who offer premium downloads for a fee.
Outrageous as it might seem.
It's not even legal.
Write a complaint and its ignored.
The greed is even in our technology.

Theft is theft no matter the method.
Just buy a song or cd.

Theft is theft no matter the method.
Just buy a song or cd.

The money that should be going to the musicians.
And it will be just wasted in all eventualities in legal fees.
99.9% of these artist are of the middle class.
Intellectual property.
The laws haven't quite caught up.
And they probably never will.
Just do what's right.
And buy a song or cd.

Theft is theft no matter the method.
Just buy a song or cd.

Is it the generation?
Please prove me wrong.

Theft is theft no matter the method.
Just buy a song or cd.

Is it the generation?
Please prove me wrong.

Do we not understand what we are promoting?
We do have a choice.

[...] Read more

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!