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What Would Be The Purpose

Taking it to falsify someone's character,
Eventually results in the discrediting...
Of the person making adverse comments.

Not only is the person who has been defamed,
Discovered not to be the person believed to have been known...
But also those who become aware of this,
Realize the only information they get about anyone depicted...
Has never come from the mouths of those,
Who are themselves the 'horses'.
You know what I'm sayin'...
Those who actually lay down their own life track.

That information has always been given by someone,
Running their mouth giving opinions to have others quickly believe.
And doing it as if they've been annointed an authority.
Whole families have been ruined by people like that.
People who are jealous and lie about the actual facts.

When people eventually meet someone who has been scandalized.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Duell

Love drunk, the other day, knockt at my brest,
But I, alas! was not within.
My man, my ear, told me he came t' attest,
That without cause h'd boxed him,
And battered the windows of mine eyes,
And took my heart for one of's nunneries.

II.
I wondred at the outrage safe return'd,
And stormed at the base affront;
And by a friend of mine, bold faith, that burn'd,
I called him to a strict accompt.
He said that, by the law, the challeng'd might
Take the advantage both of arms and fight.

III.
Two darts of equal length and points he sent,
And nobly gave the choyce to me,
Which I not weigh'd, young and indifferent,
Now full of nought but victorie.

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poem by Richard Lovelace
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An Epigram From Homer

Pay me my price, potters! and I will sing.
Attend, O Pallas! and with lifted arm
Protect their oven; let the cups and all
The sacred vessels black well, and, baked
With good success, yield them both fair renown
And profit, whether in the market sold
Or streets, and let no strife ensue between us.
But, oh ye potters! if with shameless front
Ye falsify your promise, then I leave
No mischief uninvoked to avenge the wrong.
Come, Syntrips, Smaragus, Sabactes, come,
And Asbetus, nor let your direst dread,
Omodamus, delay! Fire seize your house,
May neither house nor vestibule escape,
May ye lament to see confusion mar
And mingle the whole labor of your hands,
And may a sound fill all your oven, such
As of a horse grinding his provender,
While all your pots and flagons bounce within.
Come hither, also, daughter of the sun,

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poem by William Cowper
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Surgery

Just back from the surgery

(at least it’s ‘the’ surgery, not

cold-steel ‘surgery’…)

Surgery. Well-named.

Surges of fear, apprehension,

remorse, injustice, you name it.

On second thoughts, don’t bother.

The reception room’s OK though.

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poem by Michael Shepherd
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Love's Exchange

LOVE, any devil else but you
Would for a given soul give something too.
At court your fellows every day
Give th' art of rhyming, huntsmanship, or play,
For them which were their own before;
Only I have nothing, which gave more,
But am, alas ! by being lowly, lower.

I ask no dispensation now,
To falsify a tear, or sigh, or vow;
I do not sue from thee to draw
A non obstante on nature's law;
These are prerogatives, they inhere
In thee and thine; none should forswear
Except that he Love's minion were.

Give me thy weakness, make me blind,
Both ways, as thou and thine, in eyes and mind;
Love, let me never know that this
Is love, or, that love childish is;

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poem by John Donne
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Unicorn 4

What is known, is known – known gently,
meekly, mildly, sweetly; that’s the experience
that men bring back who’ve seen that creature plain.
But since the unicorn grazes in all our minds and hearts,
each has his image. Poets love to write of that creature
as they picture it; but what of those who met it plain
in forest glade, upon the hills, or white amidst the waves?

It’s said that, then, some poets put away their pens forever or awhile,
despairing that their word-hoard holds no words
that can describe those things invisible which
that creature brings to the mind, when met;
some can no longer give it even a name
as if that very word can seem to falsify.

They’re asked, was it, just, beautiful? – and hesitate,
because what yesterday, was ‘beautiful’ is a different word
today; that creature shows them that a word
means what it does; today, ‘beauty’ has done more in them;
it speaks a unity which is not static – can do all things

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poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Saint

My father wouldn't talk to my own brother
And then he was mad at my own mother
So for that I preached, and I prayed and I cried
Now through wonders they are at each others side
So now this sounds odd and probably quaint
But if I perform another miracle will I be a saint.
If a Pope performs a miracle he becomes a saint
That is what I read and heard and I think its quaint
But not one miracle, he must perform two
I guess if the first was falsify then the second one will do
But what is a miracle this if I need to ask
Is it a cat that talks or a dog that laughs,
Isn't it a Miracle when a child is born
And Isn't it a miracle when a sinner loves the Lord
Or is it a miracle when someone is cured of the flu
And I wander if that one miracle, would really do.
Also you must be pure and you must be Kind
Then be virtuous, prudent and devout all the time.
So if I forgive my wife the adulterous and the whore,
Whom in Scotland was known to be at all mans door,

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poem by Randy McClave
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Early Works - Is It The Love In Me

Sadness is showing in my eyes
deep within the softness of the night.
Is it love I feel
or an illusion
of something that could never be real?

My heart is bouncing like a spring
as echoing in my ears are bells
chiming in concession with each other,
but how can this be
love should never come to me.

The confessions of my mind
delude my sense of reason
that it has built a myth within heart,
a falsity of fragments t
hat falsify the true facts of love and life.
Knowing love is a once in a lifetime thing
I know only sadness, it will never come to me.

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poem by David Harris
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George A. Knight

Attorney Knight, it happens so sometimes
That lawyers, justifying cut-throats' crimes
For hire-calumniating, too, for gold,
The dead, dumb victims cruelly unsouled
Speak, through the press, to a tribunal far
More honorable than their Honors are,
A court that sits not with assenting smile
While living rogues dead gentleman revile,
A court where scoundrel ethics of your trade
Confuse no judgment and no cheating aid,
The Court of Honest Souls, where you in vain
May plead your right to falsify for gain,
Sternly reminded if a man engage
To serve assassins for the liar's wage,
His mouth with vilifying falsehoods crammed,
He's twice detestable and doubly damned!

Attorney Knight, defending Powell, you,
To earn your fee, so energetic grew
(So like a hound, the pride of all the pack,

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poem by Ambrose Bierce
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My Heaven

Young and tender – like a green coconut with sweet juices
Soft skin – as soft as an infant
Red blushes face – as red as the ‘Red Sun’
Sweet voice – like a hungry Dolphin echo
Firm and hard breasts – as ripe as water melons
Body contour – like an acoustic guitar
Crispy butt – as crispy as honeyed meat loaf
Mouth watering in between – as delicious as tropical seafood
Flawless silken hair – like a Stallion tail
Teasing nose – like the Swiss Alps skiing steep
Hungry like a wolf eyes – as deep as the Pacific cliff
Rose petals ears – as wide as water lily
Heart vibrating legs – as lengthy as the Chinese Bamboos
Flat masculine stomach – like a trampoline
Sweet and sour armpits – like the killing senses that freeze
Snow-white teeth – like the sparkling stars
Venomous tongue – as deadly as Cobra
Raspberry voluptuous lips – as sweet as the Berry fruits
Crystal shine nails – like a full moon
Steamy long fingers – like the steamy eyes of Delilah

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poem by Sulaiman Mohd Yusof
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