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Beauty at scrutiny

Beauty is born of novelty
And dies of banality
Beauty is born of rarity
And dies of disuse.
Beauty is born of formidability
And dies off familiarity.
Beauty is born of forbidden ness
And dies of togetherness.
Beauty is born in conquest
And dies of another conquest.
In net, beauty is born in one’s arrival
And dies in one’s overstaying.
A thing of a fresh one is a joy for ever.
03.03.2003

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Free Power

Free Power
from

POWER MADNESS
free power
from its fetters
no power without the people
does power arise from any other source
than through the intent to control confine confiscate con conk conjure
computerize contort compel complicate concoct compress concuss conflict
confute condemn corrupt collar convict collectivize confound
concenter communalize collogue collude collonize commandeer
compartmentalize castrate calumniate crucify combinate cutdown curtail
curryfavour curb cully cuff cuckold crush crunch cross-question curveball
conform confuse criticize croak criminate crash cramp cram crackdown
covert counterplan
countermine counterfeit counterattack corrode convert contrive
contaminate constrain consecrate
connive conquer
power is a venomous snake
that sheds its skin
but not its venom
free power from its sting
free power from belief
from self-righteousness
from don't-not-look-at-me aloofness
from protective-damnedness
from ego-centred-ness
from megalomanic mindlessness
from aryo-apartheid-ness
from i'm-right-Jack exclusiveness
from self-opining holiness
from crass-headed-ness
from puritanic-mule-headedness
from airy-fairy grandiloquence
from haughty vengefulness
from scary authoritarianism
from the love of command
from sexually dominating abusiveness
from un-empathic tightfistedness
from back-scratching dastardliness
from building castles in the air-ness
from masonic clubbiness
from musty brotherhood-ness
from stealing and selling-ness
from never-enough greediness
from carion-loving usury
from thoughtless puttingdown-ness
from self-aggrandizing acquisitiveness
from the love of pomposity

[...] Read more

poem by T. Wignesan
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Forbidden Fruit

Oscar brown jr
Eve and adam had a garden everything was great
Till one day a boy says pardon miss my name is snake
See that apple over yonder if youll take a bite
You and adam both are bound to have some fun tonight
Go on and eat forbidden fruit
Its mighty sweet forbidden fruit
Its quite a treat forbidden fruit
Go ahead and taste it you dont wanna waste it
The lord had said in the beginning everything is free
Except that apple that leads to sinning so let that apple be
But eve got tempted so she tried it and as all chicks do
Teaser her man till he decided hed just try some too
Go on and eat forbidden fruit
Its mighty sweet forbidden fruit
Its quite a treat forbidden fruit
Go ahead and bite it I bet youd be delighted
I hate to tell you all what followed the lord was most upset
Saw them making love and hollered what have you to add
And when they made a full confession the lord said hm I see
I guess Ill have to teach you a lesson about not minding me
Go on and eat forbidden fruit
Its mighty sweet forbidden fruit
Its quite a treat forbidden fruit
Youre all indebted now you gonna get it
The lord made eve adams madam have his kids and all
Placed some labour laws on adam and he made the snake to fall
Ever since the days of eden folks been sinful my
Nowadays theyre even eating apples in their pie
Go on and eat forbidden fruit
Its mighty sweet forbidden fruit
Its quite a treat forbidden fruit
Go ahead and taste it you dont wanna waste it
Oh go ahead and bite it I bet youd be delighted
You always did it now youll gonna get it
Forbidden fruit

song performed by Nina Simone
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Banality of Evil

Wordsmiths preach their rhetoric
Wise in their own eyes
They bleach their conscience
Hail the conquering hero
Sincerity oozes from your brow
Peace, peace they say
When there is no peace
The banality of evil

Death has no sides
Indiscriminate murder rains
Killing Children in their sleep
Casualties of war or slaughter
Death rains down, for freedom?
Sowing the seeds of hate,
Chameleon the bully fades
In the banality of evil

Rabid dogs of war unleashed
Hate begets hate
Violence begets violence
Death begets death
Father forgive our indifference
Rolling news feeds opinion
And reinforces division
The banality of evil

Disguised in global extremism
We seek to justify, the bullet
And the bomb, indifferent
Blind to the fact
Hellfire falls from the skies
Killing children
In the name of freedom
the banality of evil

Divide to rule, and establish
Global government
A breath away, smiling
The snake strikes
Ism’s depose Justice
The alliance of liars lie
Shake hands with the devil
welcome the banality of evil

poem by Adrian Wait
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Orlando Furioso Canto 15

ARGUMENT
Round about Paris every where are spread
The assailing hosts of Africa and Spain.
Astolpho home by Logistilla sped,
Binds first Caligorantes with his chain;
Next from Orrilo's trunk divides the head;
With whom Sir Aquilant had warred in vain,
And Gryphon bold: next Sansonet discerns,
Ill tidings of his lady Gryphon learns.

I
Though Conquest fruit of skill or fortune be,
To conquer always is a glorious thing.
'Tis true, indeed, a bloody victory
Is to a chief less honour wont to bring;
And that fair field is famed eternally,
And he who wins it merits worshipping,
Who, saving from all harm his own, without
Loss to his followers, puts the foe to rout.

II
You, sir, earned worthy praise, when you o'erbore
The lion of such might by sea, and so
Did by him, where he guarded either shore
From Francolino to the mouth of Po,
That I, though yet again I heard him roar,
If you were present, should my fear forego.
How fields are fitly won was then made plain;
For we were rescued, and your foemen slain.

III
This was the Paynim little skilled to do,
Who was but daring to his proper loss;
And to the moat impelled his meiny, who
One and all perished in the burning fosse.
The mighty gulf had not contained the crew,
But that, devouring those who sought to cross,
Them into dust the flame reduced, that room
Might be for all within the crowded tomb.

IV
Of twenty thousand warriors thither sent,
Died nineteen thousand in the fiery pit;
Who to the fosse descended, ill content;
But so their leader willed, of little wit:
Extinguished amid such a blaze, and spent
By the devouring flame the Christians lit.
And Rodomont, occasion of their woes,
Exempted from the mighty mischief goes:

[...] Read more

poem by Ludovico Ariosto
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Forbidden

something forbidden
becomes so delicious in the mind
the suspense of deprivation
makes it more desirable

everyday desire takes
upon itself what is forbidden
in the secret room
of the heart
guilt cries but

soon the guilt by extreme need
of the flesh
erases itself like the list
of unwanted friends

everyday what is forbidden is done
until such point
when what is forbidden becomes
a routine
until what is forbidden becomes
the usual familiarity
nothing about what is forbidden
becomes interesting

and then sin does not exist
until the good becomes the forbidden
in the silent room of your heart

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Adam: A Sacred Drama. Act 2.

SCENE I. -- CHORUS OF ANGELS Singing.

Now let us garlands weave
Of all the fairest flowers,
Now at this early dawn,
For new-made man, and his companion dear;
Let all with festive joy,
And with melodious song,
Of the great Architect
Applaud this noblest work,
And speak the joyous sound,
Man is the wonder both of Earth and Heaven.

FIRST Angel.

Your warbling now suspend,
You pure angelic progeny of God,
Behold the labour emulous of Heaven!
Behold the woody scene,
Decked with a thousand flowers of grace divine;
Here man resides, here ought he to enjoy
In his fair mate eternity of bliss.

SECOND Angel.

How exquisitely sweet
This rich display of flowers,
This airy wild of fragrance,
So lovely to the eye,
And to the sense so sweet.

THIRD Angel.

O the sublime Creator,
How marvellous his works, and more his power!
Such is the sacred flame
Of his celestial love,
Not able to confine it in himself,
He breathed, as fruitful sparks
From his creative breast,
The Angels, Heaven, Man, Woman, and the World.

FOURTH Angel.

Yes, mighty Lord! yes, hallowed love divine!
Who, ever in thyself completely blest,
Unconscious of a want,
Who from thyself alone, and at thy will,
Bright with beignant flames,
Without the aid of matter or of form,

[...] Read more

poem by William Cowper
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The Sex Confessions

The Bed
Your Mouth
My Touch
Our Lips

It’s a fever
In the night
Forbidden

Forbidden

Desecr ated and damned together
Desecrated and damned forever
One naked flesh, we’ll die together
One naked flesh, making love forever

The Flame
Your Cries
My Salt
Our Wounds

It’s a fever
In the night
Forbidden

Forbidden

Desecrated and damned together
Desecrated and damned forever
One naked flesh, we’ll die together
One naked flesh, making love forever

The Earth
Your Rain
My Seed
Our Life

It’s a fever
In the night
Forbidden
Forbidden

Desecrated and damned together
Desecrated and damned forever
One naked flesh, we’ll die together
One naked flesh, making love forever

Hell
Regrets
Confessions

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poem by Catman Cohen
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Palamon And Arcite; Or, The Knight's Tale. From Chaucer. In Three Books. Book III.

The day approached when Fortune should decide
The important enterprise, and give the bride;
For now the rivals round the world had sought,
And each his number, well appointed, brought.
The nations far and near contend in choice,
And send the flower of war by public voice;
That after or before were never known
Such chiefs, as each an army seemed alone:
Beside the champions, all of high degree,
Who knighthood loved, and deeds of chivalry,
Thronged to the lists, and envied to behold
The names of others, not their own, enrolled.
Nor seems it strange; for every noble knight
Who loves the fair, and is endued with might,
In such a quarrel would be proud to fight.
There breathes not scarce a man on British ground
(An isle for love and arms of old renowned)
But would have sold his life to purchase fame,
To Palamon or Arcite sent his name;
And had the land selected of the best,
Half had come hence, and let the world provide the rest.
A hundred knights with Palamon there came,
Approved in fight, and men of mighty name;
Their arms were several, as their nations were,
But furnished all alike with sword and spear.

Some wore coat armour, imitating scale,
And next their skins were stubborn shirts of mail;
Some wore a breastplate and a light juppon,
Their horses clothed with rich caparison;
Some for defence would leathern bucklers use
Of folded hides, and others shields of Pruce.
One hung a pole-axe at his saddle-bow,
And one a heavy mace to stun the foe;
One for his legs and knees provided well,
With jambeux armed, and double plates of steel;
This on his helmet wore a lady's glove,
And that a sleeve embroidered by his love.

With Palamon above the rest in place,
Lycurgus came, the surly king of Thrace;
Black was his beard, and manly was his face
The balls of his broad eyes rolled in his head,
And glared betwixt a yellow and a red;
He looked a lion with a gloomy stare,
And o'er his eyebrows hung his matted hair;
Big-boned and large of limbs, with sinews strong,
Broad-shouldered, and his arms were round and long.
Four milk-white bulls (the Thracian use of old)
Were yoked to draw his car of burnished gold.

[...] Read more

poem by John Dryden
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A Farce.

Caesar thought he was out of reach
'midst weeds and grass, he ate a peach.
Pompeia, his wife, found him at last
Palms held up, she delivered a blast.
'Caesar, new lawn is coming today,
get busy, clear weeds, cut grass, don't play.'.
He said 'Stop, enough of your SNORTS AND BAWL'.
Biting ONCE MORE INTO THE PEACH, he obeyed her call.
And when he was done, found that that wasn't all.

'RAKE HAY WHILE THE SUN SHINES'
said Gran with a fag on her lip
'SEIZE THE HAY', said Pompeia,
whilst beating cream with a whip.
Caesar said 'How about help, I'd expect no less'.
'We're making a trifle for Dan's wife Ness'.
'Who? '
'you know, NESS ESSITY..........THE MOTHER OF VIN VENTION'.
Caesar stuck in his finger and licked causing tension
'Why? ', wailed Pompeia and hit him with a sieve. Ding!
'Ow! A TRIFE UNEXAMINED IS NOT WORTH GIVING'.

Gran muttered 'THE WIFE OF DAN IS SOLITARY, POOR,
NASTY, BRUTISH AND SHORT'.
'Gran! , that's not a very charitable thing to say'.
'Well someone ought'.
'Lay the topsoil, Caesar', said Pompeia, pointing to trailer in drive.
'LOAM IS WHERE THE CART IS, no more you skive'.
'How will I level, lay straight and true? '
'GRAN IS THE MEASURER OF ALL THINGS, she'll show you'.

Caesar swore when the shovel impacted his toe.
'Language', warned Gran.
'I CALL A SPADE A SPADE, you know'.
A bug lit on his nose, he focussed his sight,
too late, 'Ow! , THE MOVING WINGER BITES'.
Grumbled as he started to lay the turf,
'MESSED UP THE WEEK FOR HAY THAT INHABIT THE EARTH'.
'Keep going', urged Gran as Pompeia came to see,
'Nay, THOU SHALT HAVE NO OTHER SODS BEFORE TEA'.

He went to the kitchen, but before he could speak,
Pompeia threw up her arms, 'YOU REEK! , YOU REEK! '.
'For *@%$'s sake! ', he mumbled.
'Language', warned Gran.
'I STINK THEREFORE I DAMN, you old dishpan! '
Gran clasped her hands to her chest, most distraught,
moaning, 'THE LIFE OF GRAN IS SOLITARY, POOR,
NASTY, BRUTISH AND SHORT'.

[...] Read more

poem by Diane Hine
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Of Non-ness

But at this time...
On these non-days,
When a sense of non-ness is existing.
I try to find in my mind,
A reason and a rhyme...
To define what it is I choose to decline.

And it is at this time,
I'm feeling quite fine.
And those non-days existing,
With a non-ness to grind...
To upset my mind,
I can't allow...
Myself to be twisted in the mix of it!

I once participated in heated debates.
About the absence of the right,
To enjoy the life I've made.
Without feeling I should trade away...
This happiness I feel and have,
I just can't walk away from to see betrayed.

And it is because at this time,
On these non-days...
Whether they come to others to keep and stay,
I wish agitation begin from me to fade.

Because at this time I made up my mind,
On those non-days bringing all that non-ness to find...
I,
Choose peace...
Over being demeaned.

Because at this time I made up my mind,
On those non-days bringing all that non-ness to find...
I,
Choose peace...
Over being demeaned.

And when that non-ness is there to share,
Because at this time I made up my mind to care...
I,
Have chosen peace...
And I've left the scene.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Verdammt Wir Leben Noch

Wers jetzt net wei
der wirds nie verstehn
das die Welt sich um uns anders dreht
und wers net glaubt, ja der wird sehn
wir zwei wern bereinanderstehn.
Ah ist der org
Eh
wir brauchen euer hab und gut
Eh
denn euch geht es zu gut
ihr furchtelt ber und unter uns
und denkt euch ach die Schdelgunst
Wers jetzt net wei
der wirds nie verstehn
das die Welt sich um uns anders dreht
und wers net glaubt, ja der wird sehn
wir zwei wern bereinanderstehn.
Wers jetzt net wei
der wirds nie verstehn
das die Welt sich um uns anders dreht
und wers net glaubt, ja der wird sehn
wir zwei wern bereinanderstehn.
Eh
solo
Eh Eh
Wers jetzt net wei
der wirds nie verstehn
das die Welt sich um uns anders dreht
und wers net glaubt, ja der wird sehn
wir zwei wern bereinanderstehn

song performed by Falco
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Afrikaans: Sterregordels, Stilsonjare, Tydsbroekspypdinge, Haarsliert

Sterregordels

Cosmology in Afrikaans is an ode to joy, the
terms form sing-song strings with delightful
sounds “ewigbewegende elektron”
continuously spinning electron

“elektron in die hart van die atoomkorrel”
electron in the centre of the atom particle
- what a song!

“Triljoene Melkwegstelsels waaromheen ons
Melkweg elke tweehonderdmiljoenjaar
wentel – ‘n mallemeule van sterregordels…”

“Dobberende patrone, mesone en elektrone,
'n konfigurasie van konvekse novae”…

- these terms are singing to me!

A merry-go-round of star systems

Quotes from Adriaan Snyman “Die Messias Kode” (The Messiah Code) pp.9,10

Bombardement Van Frekwensies (English Explanation)

Waarmee sal ek hierdie leë oomblikke,
ankerloos, betekenisloos; aan die ewigheid
vasmaak - die gevoelsruimte in my hart

Is leeg, alle gevoel en denke het gesamentlik
in die donker duisternis van my brein ingeval
‘n laserbrein wat die hologramwêreld

Self moet konsituteer uit ‘n bombardement
van betekenislose frekwensies – maar
vandag is die ligstraalfokus uit

My pendulumgedagtes swaai ongefokus rond
die opgerolde, ingevoude ses-en-twintig of
meer dimensies van die virtuele werklikheid

Wil nie vir my oopgaan nie…

All thought and feeling fell into the black hole in my brain and the twenty-six or more rolled-up frequencies of reality does not want to open for me today…

Geloof In Liefde - Faith In Love

[...] Read more

poem by Margaret Alice
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Forbidden

If I had to live again, Id change everything,
cause everything I do, you know that I cant win.
You say it isnt right, but you say it isnt wrong,
How the hell am I supposed to please everyone.
Tell me what it is that Im supposed to do.
I aint here for everybody, but I aint here for you,
You said it isnt right, but you said it isnt wrong.
I wish somebody could tell me, what it is that Ive done wrong.
The best things in live arent given, these things aint for you and me,
Every time you shout forbidden, makes me wonder what you see.
The best things in live arent given, these things aint for you and me,
Every time you shout forbidden, makes me wonder what you see.
You know its gonna get you now, and you know it starts to bring you down.
Tell me what it is that Im supposed to do,
I aint here for everybody, but I aint here for you,
It seems I have to fight, for all the things I want,
Wish somebody could tell me what it is that Ive done wrong.
The best things in live arent given, these things aint for you and me,
Every time you shout forbidden, makes me wonder what you see.
The best things in live arent given, these things aint for you and me,
Every time you shout forbidden, makes me wonder what you see.
Its forbidden.
The best things in live arent given, these things aint for you and me,
Every time you shout forbidden, makes me wonder what you see.
The best things in live arent given, these things aint for you and me,
Every time you shout forbidden, makes me wonder what you see.
Makes me wonder what you see.

<a href=#top>a>

[...] Read more

song performed by Black Sabbath
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Atoms

Atoms are back, balls of flame, swung into desuetude,
For they are light particles of enlightenment, to worship.
Comely atoms are effervescent, for they are with ebullience,
Areas are still, areas are bands of strength, banks of disuse.

May we swing into disuse one day with atoms and molecules,
Converted into dust, covered by clay as we originated from it;
Animals corrupt the ancient philosophers, apples of knowledge,
Fully like babies in perfection and perception, like arts of wholeness.

The capital of thinking regards the atoms with disgust,
My captain is a car of thoughts, drive it to reach more disuse;
The body of a book is a cynosure of this civilisation,
Swinging us into efflorescence, for we are ephemeral.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto I

THE ARGUMENT

The Knight and Squire resolve, at once,
The one the other to renounce.
They both approach the Lady's Bower;
The Squire t'inform, the Knight to woo her.
She treats them with a Masquerade,
By Furies and Hobgoblins made;
From which the Squire conveys the Knight,
And steals him from himself, by Night.

'Tis true, no lover has that pow'r
T' enforce a desperate amour,
As he that has two strings t' his bow,
And burns for love and money too;
For then he's brave and resolute,
Disdains to render in his suit,
Has all his flames and raptures double,
And hangs or drowns with half the trouble,
While those who sillily pursue,
The simple, downright way, and true,
Make as unlucky applications,
And steer against the stream their passions.
Some forge their mistresses of stars,
And when the ladies prove averse,
And more untoward to be won
Than by CALIGULA the Moon,
Cry out upon the stars, for doing
Ill offices to cross their wooing;
When only by themselves they're hindred,
For trusting those they made her kindred;
And still, the harsher and hide-bounder
The damsels prove, become the fonder.
For what mad lover ever dy'd
To gain a soft and gentle bride?
Or for a lady tender-hearted,
In purling streams or hemp departed?
Leap'd headlong int' Elysium,
Through th' windows of a dazzling room?
But for some cross, ill-natur'd dame,
The am'rous fly burnt in his flame.
This to the Knight could be no news,
With all mankind so much in use;
Who therefore took the wiser course,
To make the most of his amours,
Resolv'd to try all sorts of ways,
As follows in due time and place

No sooner was the bloody fight,
Between the Wizard, and the Knight,

[...] Read more

poem by Samuel Butler
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Melanie

Melanie is sweet
A vision on her feet
So young so fair
A bridge of iron
Standing tall between two parted spheres
Shes a novelty of reality
Though she tried so hard
My sweet darling melanie
Shes glad for what shes had
Her mom and several dads so she complained
This modern love affair
With life can really get you down
Shes a novelty of reality
But she tried so hard my sweet darling melanie
Ooh but life goes on
Ooh the same old song
Ooh but loves in search of mystery
So you worked so hard my sweet darling melanie
Over the horizon
Birds of paradise sit in her eyes
You can feel forever on her sweet and silken sighs
Shes novelty of reality
So she tried so hard my sweet darling melanie
Na, na, na
Shes novelty of reality
So she tried so hard my sweet darling melanie
So she tried so hard my sweet darling melanie
Na, na, na...

song performed by Donna Summer
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The Purse-Seine

Our sardine fishermen work at night in the dark
of the moon; daylight or moonlight
They could not tell where to spread the net,
unable to see the phosphorescence of the
shoals of fish.
They work northward from Monterey, coasting
Santa Cruz; off New Year's Point or off
Pigeon Point
The look-out man will see some lakes of milk-color
light on the sea's night-purple; he points,
and the helmsman
Turns the dark prow, the motorboat circles the
gleaming shoal and drifts out her seine-net.
They close the circle
And purse the bottom of the net, then with great
labor haul it in.

I cannot tell you
How beautiful the scene is, and a little terrible,
then, when the crowded fish
Know they are caught, and wildly beat from one wall
to the other of their closing destiny the
phosphorescent
Water to a pool of flame, each beautiful slender body
sheeted with flame, like a live rocket
A comet's tail wake of clear yellow flame; while outside
the narrowing
Floats and cordage of the net great sea-lions come up
to watch, sighing in the dark; the vast walls
of night
Stand erect to the stars.

Lately I was looking from a night mountain-top
On a wide city, the colored splendor, galaxies of light:
how could I help but recall the seine-net
Gathering the luminous fish? I cannot tell you how
beautiful the city appeared, and a little terrible.
I thought, We have geared the machines and locked all together
into inter-dependence; we have built the great cities; now
There is no escape. We have gathered vast populations incapable
of free survival, insulated
From the strong earth, each person in himself helpless, on all
dependent. The circle is closed, and the net
Is being hauled in. They hardly feel the cords drawing, yet
they shine already. The inevitable mass-disasters
Will not come in our time nor in our children's, but we
and our children
Must watch the net draw narrower, government take all
powers--or revolution, and the new government
Take more than all, add to kept bodies kept souls--or anarchy,

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Part II

So, they ring bell, give orders, pay, depart
Amid profuse acknowledgment from host
Who well knows what may bring the younger back.
They light cigar, descend in twenty steps
The 'calm acclivity,' inhale—beyond
Tobacco's balm—the better smoke of turf
And wood fire,—cottages at cookery
I' the morning,—reach the main road straitening on
'Twixt wood and wood, two black walls full of night
Slow to disperse, though mists thin fast before
The advancing foot, and leave the flint-dust fine
Each speck with its fire-sparkle. Presently
The road's end with the sky's beginning mix
In one magnificence of glare, due East,
So high the sun rides,—May's the merry month.
They slacken pace: the younger stops abrupt.
Discards cigar, looks his friend full in face.

"All right; the station comes in view at end;
Five minutes from the beech-clump, there you are!
I say: let's halt, let's borrow yonder gate
Of its two magpies, sit and have a talk!
Do let a fellow speak a moment! More
I think about and less I like the thing—
No, you must let me! Now, be good for once!
Ten thousand pounds be done for, dead and damned!
We played for love, not hate: yes, hate! I hate
Thinking you beg or borrow or reduce
To strychnine some poor devil of a lord
Licked at Unlimited Loo. I had the cash
To lose—you knew that!—lose and none the less
Whistle to-morrow: it's not every chap
Affords to take his punishment so well!
Now, don't be angry with a friend whose fault
Is that he thinks—upon my soul, I do—
Your head the best head going. Oh, one sees
Names in the newspaper—great this, great that,
Gladstone, Carlyle, the Laureate:—much I care!
Others have their opinion, I keep mine:
Which means—by right you ought to have the things
I want a head for. Here's a pretty place,
My cousin's place, and presently my place.
Not yours! I'll tell you how it strikes a man.
My cousin's fond of music and of course
Plays the piano (it won't be for long!)
A brand-new bore she calls a 'semi-grand,'
Rosewood and pearl, that blocks the drawing-room.
And cost no end of money. Twice a week
Down comes Herr Somebody and seats himself.
Sets to work teaching—with his teeth on edge—

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Inn Album (1875)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto III

THE ARGUMENT

The Knight and squire's prodigious Flight
To quit th' inchanted Bow'r by Night.
He plods to turn his amorous Suit
T' a Plea in Law, and prosecute
Repairs to Counsel, to advise
'Bout managing the Enterprise;
But first resolves to try by Letter,
And one more fair Address, to get her.

WHO wou'd believe what strange bugbears
Mankind creates itself of fears
That spring like fern, that insect weed,
Equivocally, without seed;
And have no possible foundation,
But merely in th' imagination;
And yet can do more dreadful feats
Than hags, with all their imps and teats
Make more bewitch and haunt themselves
Than all their nurseries of elves?
For fear does things so like a witch,
'Tis hard t' unriddle which is which:
Sets up Communities of senses,
To chop and change intelligences;
As Rosicrucian virtuosos
Can see with ears, and hear with noses;
And when they neither see nor hear,
Have more than both supply'd by fear
That makes 'em in the dark see visions,
And hag themselves with apparitions;
And when their eyes discover least,
Discern the subtlest objects best
Do things not contrary, alone,
To th' course of nature, but its own;
The courage of the bravest daunt,
And turn poltroons as valiant:
For men as resolute appear
With too much as too little fear
And when they're out of hopes of flying,
Will run away from death by dying;
Or turn again to stand it out,
And those they fled, like lions, rout.

This HUDIBRAS had prov'd too true,
Who, by the furies left perdue,
And haunted with detachments, sent
From Marshal Legion's regiment,
Was by a fiend, as counterfeit,
Reliev'd and rescu'd with a cheat;

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poem by Samuel Butler
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The Downward Course

He who says what is not, goes to hell; he also who, having done a thing, says I have not done it. After death both are equal, they are
men with evil deeds in the next world.

Many men whose shoulders are covered with the yellow gown are ill-conditioned and unrestrained; such evil-doers by their evil deeds go to hell.

Better it would be to swallow a heated iron ball, like flaring fire, than that a bad unrestrained fellow should live on the charity of the land.

Four things does a wreckless man gain who covets his neighbour's wife,-a bad reputation, an uncomfortable bed, thirdly, punishment, and lastly, hell.

There is bad reputation, and the evil way (to hell), there is the short pleasure of the frightened in the arms of the frightened, and the king imposes heavy punishment; therefore let no man think of his neighbour's wife.

As a grass-blade, if badly grasped, cuts the arm, badly-practised asceticism leads to hell.

An act carelessly performed, a broken vow, and hesitating obedience to discipline, all this brings no great reward.

If anything is to be done, let a man do it, let him attack it vigorously! A careless pilgrim only scatters the dust of his passions
more widely.

An evil deed is better left undone, for a man repents of it afterwards; a good deed is better done, for having done it, one does not repent.

Like a well-guarded frontier fort, with defences within and without, so let a man guard himself. Not a moment should escape, for they who allow the right moment to pass, suffer pain when they are in hell.

They who are ashamed of what they ought not to be ashamed of, and are not ashamed of what they ought to be ashamed of, such men,
embracing false doctrines enter the evil path.

They who fear when they ought not to fear, and fear not when they ought to fear, such men, embracing false doctrines, enter the evil
path.

They who forbid when there is nothing to be forbidden, and forbid not when there is something to be forbidden, such men, embracing false doctrines, enter the evil path.

They who know what is forbidden as forbidden, and what is not forbidden as not forbidden, such men, embracing the true doctrine,
enter the good path.

poem by Gautama Buddha
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