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Noam Chomsky

The structure of language determines not only thought, but reality itself.

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Not Only Accepted But Endorsed

When one is revealed to have an intelligence,
Among others who are more interested...
In displaying an ignorance,
That entertains in delighting...
Acceptable foolishness.
Here can be found in environments like this...
Is a total absence of an accountable responsibility.
With an insistence that persists.

And those who appear,
To have acquired an 'intelligence'...
Are often dismissed as novelties.
In environments,
Where a lack of discipline and laziness...
Is not only accepted,
But endorsed as a reflection...
Of what a mindlessness can enforce to exist.

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Not only right

You have not only right but a say
To shape the destiny and clear way
That might come on to face
Allow he opportunity to find and trace

It is holy bond and I respect
The sincerity in your act
The way in which you ask
That makes easy my task

It goes without saying
You were all along praying
There is no much denying
And absolutely no intention of defying

You are in top most of my mind
That nothing else you can find
All along you were considerate and kind
How can I be so rude and unkind?

As you surrendered
The clouds had thundered
The sky had wondered
Many thought over it and pondered

You did not think of any adultery
You never thought of any misery
You did not seem to have any worry
Less any idea of feeling slight sorry

I keep emotions very live
As you come in dream and make it alive
All these years I had striven very hard
That you may maintain and keep your word

I take your hands in hand and reassure
That our life is safe and fully secured
That we may never be separated
As the feeling and love and inter related

I wish the same as token gesture
You have convinced me and made it sure
There remains no cause to feel confused
As there is no make it refused

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It Is Not Only Me

it is not only me
who by the magic
of poetry
has felt
the softness
of hand
caressing
my hair
the wonder
of a mother
singing
a lullaby
as i sleep
like a baby
in her bosom

it is also
you Habib and the rest
the one
who jots down
on paper
her sorrow
her tension

it is not only us
but also them, and you too who reads
this poem
the one
who calls the soul
into
poetry weaving

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Not Only Human

Morning is almost here - let it wait
I just want to lie here awhile, tempting fate
I dont think I could breathe now with you gone
But its not weakness its just something Ive begun
Maybe theres a light thats always on
Maybe were not only human, maybe
Maybe theres a light thats always on
And were not only human
When youre sleeping your ceramic
Youre surrounded by little stars
Every shimmer is a searchlight
Every planet is ours
Change the street change the decade
Still the longings left inside
But why am I too small to carry you?
Why does twilight make me cry?
Maybe theres a light thats always on
Maybe were not only human, maybe
Maybe theres a light thats always on
And were not only human
When all is said and done
When all the weight is gone
When all is said and done
When all the weight is gone
Were not only human
Life is something set to music
I can hear it when Im sad
Theres a chord in every muscle
Every kiss you ever had
Theres a power when youre near me
In our heads or in our bones
I know nothing but Im guessing
When we die were not alone
Maybe theres a light thats always on
Maybe were not only human, maybe
Maybe theres a light thats always on
And were not only human
When all is said and done
When all the weight is gone
When all is said and done
When all the weight is gone
Were not only human
Not only human
Not only human
Not only human
Not only, yeah, human.
No, human, human.
Human.

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Evcharistos! and not only...

here is the world of not only:
lifting its face, lifting its hands,
beyond not, beyond only, to
not only, but.. to That!

not only for some, but for all.
Be sitting in your chair, or
kneeling before an altar or a statue, or
touching head to ground, or
cross-legged, the sitar and the vina
quietening to silence, the incense
filling the lungs and heart;

or walking through the forest, in the hills; seeing,
not only this, or this, but… that…

Eucharist, Communion, Advaita –
Thanksgiving, coming together as one,
not two’… do all these mean the same,
mean, not only?

not only you, but all of us;
not only worshipping, or working;
not only body or spirit;
not only earth or heaven;

but there, where work is worship; worship, work;
where activity is rest;
where Body is Spirit; Spirit, Body;
earth is heaven, and heaven’s on earth;

where sound and silence meet;
where stillness meets activity;
where body and spirit know each other;

take, if you wish, this sip of wine, this crumb of bread,
this handful of water, this flower,
in the memory of centuries and millions,
lifting, too, their faces and their hands;
looking beyond not only, finding, that;
or put your hands together,
as all things come together;

say the word, a word,
give a name to it, to That;
or listen to the sound beyond all names;
the sound that’s in the silence;
the life that’s in the stillness;

or stay with eucharist, communion, advaita, jihad,
sacrifice, surrender, prayer, praise;
they are your guardians and your friends,
smiling as they run toward you, greeting;
calling out to you,
not onlybut

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The secret war that is raging in South Africa

The secret war that is raging in South Africa
asks for white blood,
these black people first kill and torture
before they take your possessions.

Incident upon incident I can tell about
where white families have been killed,
just think about the Orffer family
who was killed in Stellenbosch

on Friday 31 July 1994
by black people:

First the trustworthy black maid Sannetjie,
who tried to ward off the attackers with her bare hands
like a Amakeia of days gone,
then the blonde small girl

then the dad and the deaf little boy
and last the mother
were chopped with a axe to death
and everywhere there was blood.

Nowadays the tendency is
to first bind up the head of the family,
the man, to assault him
and to torture him to death in front of his family

and then to rape the women,
even toddlers and babies
and if the women are lucky
they survive

when the criminals
leave with their possessions
and it seems as if the police
do not want to, or are not able to stop this thing

and then it is claimed
that these people kill and steal
because they are hungry, while people in government
sings songs to wipe out whites.

From April 1994 when Nelson Mandela became president
the wiping out of white families is our destiny,
the Afrikaner nation is in the melting pot
we who have an own culture, language and identity,

who cannot become part of the hurly-burly
are killed, not only robbed
but tortured and horribly killed
and our women and children are raped.

Even Eugene Terreblancé
had befallen this same lot
and if this is not a war
that is raging against us,

where we are systematically
bit by bit, family by family
wiped out, and the numbers
are already in the thousands, then what is it?

[References: Klaaglied: Stellenbosch, Vrydag,31 Julie 1994 (Song of lamentation: Stellenbosch, Friday,31 Julie 1994) by Lina Spies. Amakeia by A. G. Visser, Amakeia, Amakeia then and now by Gert Strydom.]

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The Angel In The House. Book I. Canto IV.

Preludes

I The Rose of the World
Lo, when the Lord made North and South
And sun and moon ordained, He,
Forthbringing each by word of mouth
In order of its dignity,
Did man from the crude clay express
By sequence, and, all else decreed,
He form'd the woman; nor might less
Than Sabbath such a work succeed.
And still with favour singled out,
Marr'd less than man by mortal fall,
Her disposition is devout,
Her countenance angelical;
The best things that the best believe
Are in her face so kindly writ
The faithless, seeing her, conceive
Not only heaven, but hope of it;
No idle thought her instinct shrouds,
But fancy chequers settled sense,
Like alteration of the clouds
On noonday's azure permanence;
Pure dignity, composure, ease
Declare affections nobly fix'd,
And impulse sprung from due degrees
Of sense and spirit sweetly mix'd.
Her modesty, her chiefest grace,
The cestus clasping Venus' side,
How potent to deject the face
Of him who would affront its pride!
Wrong dares not in her presence speak,
Nor spotted thought its taint disclose
Under the protest of a cheek
Outbragging Nature's boast the rose.
In mind and manners how discreet;
How artless in her very art;
How candid in discourse; how sweet
The concord of her lips and heart;
How simple and how circumspect;
How subtle and how fancy-free;
Though sacred to her love, how deck'd
With unexclusive courtesy;
How quick in talk to see from far
The way to vanquish or evade;
How able her persuasions are
To prove, her reasons to persuade;
How (not to call true instinct's bent
And woman's very nature, harm),
How amiable and innocent
Her pleasure in her power to charm;
How humbly careful to attract,
Though crown'd with all the soul desires,
Connubial aptitude exact,
Diversity that never tires.


II The Tribute
Boon Nature to the woman bows;
She walks in earth's whole glory clad,
And, chiefest far herself of shows,
All others help her, and are glad:
No splendour 'neath the sky's proud dome
But serves for her familiar wear;
The far-fetch'd diamond finds its home
Flashing and smouldering in her hair;
For her the seas their pearls reveal;
Art and strange lands her pomp supply
With purple, chrome, and cochineal,
Ochre, and lapis lazuli;
The worm its golden woof presents;
Whatever runs, flies, dives, or delves,
All doff for her their ornaments,
Which suit her better than themselves;
And all, by this their power to give,
Proving her right to take, proclaim
Her beauty's clear prerogative
To profit so by Eden's blame.

III Compensation
That nothing here may want its praise,
Know, she who in her dress reveals
A fine and modest taste, displays
More loveliness than she conceals.

The Morning Call.

I
‘By meekness charm'd, or proud to allow
‘A queenly claim to live admired,
‘Full many a lady has ere now
‘My apprehensive fancy fired,
‘And woven many a transient chain;
But never lady like to this,
‘Who holds me as the weather-vane
‘Is held by yonder clematis.
‘She seems the life of nature's powers;
‘Her beauty is the genial thought
‘Which makes the sunshine bright; the flowers,
But for their hint of her, were nought.’


II
A voice, the sweeter for the grace
Of suddenness, while thus I dream'd,
‘Good morning!’ said or sang. Her face
The mirror of the morning seem'd.
Her sisters in the garden walk'd,
And would I come? Across the Hall
She led me; and we laugh'd and talk'd,
And praised the Flower-show and the Ball;
And Mildred's pinks had gain'd the Prize;
And, stepping like the light-foot fawn,
She brought me ‘Wiltshire Butterflies,’
The Prize-book; then we paced the lawn,
Close-cut, and with geranium-plots,
A rival glow of green and red;
Then counted sixty apricots
On one small tree; the gold-fish fed;
And watch'd where, black with scarlet tans,
Proud Psyche stood and flash'd like flame,
Showing and shutting splendid fans;
And in the prize we found its name.

III
The sweet hour lapsed, and left my breast
A load of joy and tender care;
And this delight, which life oppress'd,
To fix'd aims grew, that ask'd for pray'r.
I rode home slowly; whip-in-hand
And soil'd bank-notes all ready, stood
The Farmer who farm'd all my land,
Except the little Park and Wood;
And, with the accustom'd compliment
Of talk, and beef, and frothing beer,
I, my own steward, took my rent,
Three hundred pounds for half the year;
Our witnesses the Cook and Groom,
We sign'd the lease for seven years more,
And bade Good-day; then to my room
I went, and closed and lock'd the door,
And cast myself down on my bed,
And there, with many a blissful tear,
I vow'd to love and pray'd to wed
The maiden who had grown so dear;
Thank'd God who had set her in my path;
And promised, as I hoped to win,
That I would never dim my faith
By the least selfishness or sin;
Whatever in her sight I'd seem
I'd truly be; I'd never blend
With my delight in her a dream
'Twould change her cheek to comprehend;
And, if she wish'd it, I'd prefer
Another's to my own success;
And always seek the best for her,
With unofficious tenderness.

IV
Rising, I breathed a brighter clime,
And found myself all self above,
And, with a charity sublime,
Contemn'd not those who did not love;
And I could not but feel that then
I shone with something of her grace,
And went forth to my fellow men
My commendation in my face.

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Roses Are Not Only Red

roses are not only red
and my love for you
is not only true
but forever too.

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I wanted some family structure and stability, and that's what The Partridge Family afforded me, not only financially but in the fact that I could be at home with my kids.

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Unless the great majority of Americans not only have, but believe they have, a fair chance, the better American future will be dangerously compromised.

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It's all a sham: I have seen, and I know firsthand, indeed from my own pen, how the organized Right has sabotaged not only journalism but also democracy and truth.

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I have been following a vegan diet now since the 1980s, and find it not only healthier, but also much more attractive than the chunks of meat that were on my plate as a child.

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All sport... is one of the few activities where young people can proceed along traditional avenues, where objectives are clear, where the desire to win is not only permissible, but encouraged.

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And it was back in the mid-1980s, and as I point out in a piece, that was when we are spending about eight percent of our gross domestic product on health care. And even then, we had the impression that so much of the excessive, aggressive medical treatment that took place at the end of life was not only unnecessary but it was cruel.

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I Feel Fear Because of You

How do i feel without fear.?
Fear of my emotions being used and abused
The fear I feel from not only you but them too
The people of this world think their way is always best
I hope and pray
Both night and day
Although I wait I hear no God
Or maybe I just feel fear for The Answers I might hear
My Fathers hurt me
Doesn't that mean he will too.?

How do I feel without fear.?
Fear of judgement,
Fear of cool
Fear of seeming just like you
You've made me happy
But mostly sad
They say hate is a very strong word and it must be true
But years ago I could've sworn I hated you

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A Sunday Prayer 05

Dear Lord of all Creation,
as we go out today to greet
your new glorious day,
we may be surrounded by enemies.
Let us stand tall and face them,
with a smile of friendship on our face,
and not with the contempt
that is so visible in their eyes,
and as we walk towards them,
protect us with your gown of faith
we wear for all to see.
Let them see we mean no harm,
and that we are not meek.
Let them see our outstretched hands,
in friendship, not war.
Oh, Lord give us the strength
to do this not only today,
but every day in our journey,
from the cradle to the grave.
Amen

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Unknown Author

I dip my pen in vitriol
to pen the letters which I write.
To highlight sin my only goal
It’s my belief I have the right.

An aging spinster old and bent
I always walked the narrow path
remaining pure and innocent.
Frustration now fuels my wrath.

Behind lace curtains I can see
much more than people think I can.
I keep my watch vigilantly.
I know the movements of each man.

Not only men but women too
as they conduct sordid affairs
and I will write to those who do.
To let them know somebody dares

Inform them that their secrets known.
How they transgress morality
a task I undertake alone.
My quill is sharp and lacks pity.

I scourge the sinners with my pen
because I have no other course.
Perhaps they will not sin again
if I can fill them with remorse.

It is my duty I must try
to wean them from their sinful ways
I know they fear publicity
to be exposed to public gaze.

Such is the power I now wield.
my only tool my trusty pen.
When guilty secrets are revealed,
they fear that I will strike again.

Nothing escapes my eagle eye.
Facts are recorded faithfully.
I have strict rules which I apply
I take my duty seriously.

I lacked the opportunity
I never had the chance to stray.
Perhaps a tinge of jealousy
has made me what I am today.

But Oh the pleasure that I gain
is in some way a recompense
for years of loneliness and pain.
Which I endured with forebearance

I wreak my revenge secretly.
Nobody will suspect that it is me
exposing the hypocrisy
of modern day society.

24-Jun-08

http: //blog.my space.com/poetic piers

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A Woman with no name

I see her fly up high in the blue skies
From afar I see her stand near by

She is ugly
She holds her head up high
She is pretty
She holds her head up high
She is rich
She holds her head up high
She is poor
She holds her head up high
She is stupid
She holds her head up high
She is intelligent
She holds her head up high

There she flies
A woman with no name
The one you tried to frame

She is a friend, a sister, a mother and a lover
She is a teacher, rocker, a stalker and a comforter
She is a worker, politician and a prostitute
She is everything from complex to minute
A killer in your very mist
been fed sick pills
sent out to the road to kill
She is an instiller of the truth
when you feast demanding your manners
Her favorite breakfast banner

You look at me in disbelief and shock
As if you've just been hit with a rock
Where is your luck?

You look at me in shock
The truth is bitter
Does not only shock but sucks

There she flies
A woman with no name
The one you tried to frame

She is the one you tried to dismiss
In your bed with a single kiss
You did not listen
She was only seeking justice
She is the mother of your children
Producing grown up women and men

I see her in your eyes
As she cries
With pain, deranged from the rain
She is the one you pretend
Is not important
Right from when you were an infant
So you rant and rant and rant

She is the one you alienate, frustrate, underrate,
and try so often to eliminate

There she stands
She stands on my shoulder
Ready to embark on a journey
She is the woman with no name
The one you tried to frame

Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi

www.sylviachidi.com

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Meditations Divine and Moral

A ship that bears much sail, and little ballast, is easily
overset; and that man, whose head hath great abilities, and his
heart little or no grace, is in danger of foundering.
The finest bread has the least bran; the purest honey, the
least wax; and the sincerest Christian, the least self-love.
Sweet words are like honey; a little may refresh, but too much
gluts the stomach.
Divers children have their different natures: some are like
flesh which nothing but salt will keep from putrefaction; some
again like tender fruits that are best preserved with sugar. Those
parents are wise that can fit their nurture according to their
nature.
Authority without wisdom is like a heavy axe without an edge,
fitter to bruise than polish.
The reason why Christians are so loath to exchange this world
for a better, is because they have more sense than faith: they see
what they enjoy, they do but hope for that which is to come.
Dim eyes are the concomitants of old age; and short-
sightedness, in those that are the eyes of a Republic, foretells a
declining State.
Wickedness comes to its height by degrees. He that dares say
of a less sin, Is it not a little one? will erelong say of a
greater, Tush, God regards it not.
Fire hath its force abated by water, not by wind; and anger
must be allayed by cold words and not by blustering threats.
The gifts that God bestows on the sons of men, are not only
abused, but most commonly employed for a clean contrary end than
that which they were given for; as health, wealth, and honor, which
might be so many steps to draw men to God in consideration of his
bounty towards them, but have driven them the further from him,
that they are ready to say, We are lords, we will come no more at
thee. If outward blessings be not as wings to help us mount
upwards, they will certainly prove clogs and weights that will pull
us lower downward.

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A weak love

Neither it broke nor did it speak
It just tried to prove strong but felt very weak
I preserved to the heart and consider as super class
Took special care to feel easy at pass

It has all its charm
Nothing has been done to harm
It still waits for warm welcome
When will you respond and come?

I too have loved from heart
I was for it from the very start
Love is not only gift but an art
We got to be careful not to part

It may pain me more
If it is blamed anymore
It is so sacred and retained as such
Do not think a lot or so much

It may take longer than expected
It is to be adored and respected
It is heavenly gift and not given to all
Luck is those who understand and respond the call

Will you be sincere enough to obey?
Bow down to almighty and pray
Oh, God! Give me the strength to withstand
Give m e insight to know her as friend

I shall stand in no way or obstruct
My conscience will definitely guide me and instruct
I shall prove it to be a noble act
I love you from is like day light fact

It is not body alone
Soul too has to be won
It may be then be called real bondage
The golden story will be written on page

Come and join to make it success
Have all doubts cleared with open access
I was ever your and remain so in future
Take every word of mine for sure


I was at pain to learn about loose remark
It was as if a loud noise from dog with bark
How can one think of so bad for pure form?
One should always remain firm and better informed

It is definitely a pulsating current
It may go up and down and may not look apparent
It needs purest form to realize the pulse
It can not be termed impure or anything else

It deserves highest attention and regard
One must be positive and look forward
There me some setbacks initially
It must be given go by really

So many people loose the heart at slight provocation
It really speaks bad and does not give good indication
The distrust has no place at all and is ruled out of question
One must be assertive and stand firmly in his position

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