Citatepedia^®.com

Storytelling reveals meaning without committing the error of defining it.

quote by Hannah Arendt
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian

Any form of life was better than death

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw countless haplessly orphaned children; being viciously kicked into dustbins of malice; for ostensibly no reason or rhyme,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw the pricelessly innocuous female fetus; being brutally assassinated and aborted; right in the very depths of the unassailably godly womb,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw heartlessly cold-blooded men; ruthlessly felling innumerable a tree; using its blessed branches; trunk and roots; for evolving lifelessly wastrel commodities,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw demonically manipulating politicians; weigh the very essence of unconquerably righteous life; in terms of wantonly decrepit currency coin,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw innocently minor girls being brutally raped; by the diabolically idiosyncratic perversions of sadistic man,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw peerlessly impeccable blood being parasitically sucked from newborn forms; just in order to spuriously enrich and consecrate; the already blessed and bountiful human form,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw boundless wives and children reduced to a cadaverous carcass; as the man of the family simply refrained to budge an inch to earn; cannibalistically guzzling the last dropp of wine and vixen; to be found of planet earth,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw beautifully fructifying wildlife being emotionlessly beheaded; just in order to become the exuberant delicacy; of the already replenished palette,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw robustly ebullient organisms doing nothing but just endlessly gazing at fathomless sky; nonsensically proclaiming that their destiny would one day and eventually take them to the absolute epitome of cloud nine,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw one man derogatorily slaving and slavering for another man; wherein the Omnipotent Creator had created all symbiotically equal in the first place,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw millions of innocent being indiscriminately butchered; in the wrath and aftermath of barbarously thwarting bombardment and war,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw satanic terrorists launch an inconsolably pulverizing assault on one particular fraternity of mankind; in the name of sacrifice to the Omnipresent Lord,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw hordes of people blindfoldedly offering their last ounce of wealth to the Omnipotent deity of the Lord; who in the first place owned every speck of the unending Universe; and who wanted them to benevolently donate the same to all suffering living kind instead,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw school going girls and boys begging hoarsely on the obdurately chauvinistic streets; with their parents abhorrently using them to tickle the soft corner of the opulent society,
I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw women of all ages; right from the age of my daughter; to sister to mother; tawdrily selling their flesh to hedonistically dastardly men; just for securing those two quintessential morsels of food,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw limitless dying unattended on the freezing streets; because of unforgivably ghastly corruption; viciously infiltrating in every echelon of the government and society,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw impudently pretentious brats; telling their life-bestowing parents to clean the stagnating shit in their houses; whilst they themselves deliriously drowned themselves; into barrels of sinfully expensive wine and cigarette smoke,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw the most perpetually faithful of lovers salaciously separate like a miserably broken leaf; at the tiniest of objection from the sanctimoniously turgid society,

I felt like committing suicide there and then itself. Everytime I saw selfishly shriveled man; praying to God for solely impregnating his lungs with a countless breaths; instead of immortally sharing the same in perfect symbiosis with endless numbers of his own kind,

But when I was actually committing suicide. I felt that any form of life was better than death; as I approached my very last breath. For if at all I could endeavor my very best to ameliorate every fraternity of estranged and maliciously cannibalistic living kind; then by the grace of God it could be only while in undefeated life and not the slightest after stonily gory death…

poem by Nikhil Parekh
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

When There's A Meaning To A Pain

When there's a meaning to a pain,
It can make a better life.
It will enrich with understanding coming,
To pay attention to a need.

When there's a meaning to a pain,
Bitter lips shut tight.
And if it is mental and not physical...
Correct and get it right.

When there's a meaning to a pain,
There is something to be learned.
Either cross that bridge and forgive,
Or let the 'thing' burn.

When there's a meaning to a pain,
You can not let it ride.
Or let it burn you deep inside.
Correct,
And get it right.

When there's a meaning to a pain,
Bitter lips shut tight.
And if it is mental and not physical...
Correct,
And get it right.

When there's a meaning to a pain,
It can make a better life.
It will enrich with understanding coming,
To pay attention to a need.

When there's a meaning to a pain,
Someone is giving it a need.
And...
Allowing it to offer,
More attention to feed.
And,
More of attention than it needs!

When there's a meaning to a pain...
Refrain from giving it a name.
When there's a meaning to a pain...
Correct,
And get it right.
Don't let it burn inside.

When there's a meaning to a pain...
Refrain from giving it a name.
When there's a meaning to a pain...

[...] Read more

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

Nuclear Is Safe? No They Lied To You

A list of non classified nuclear disasters
chalk one up for Chalk River Canada
rating 5 a “reactor shutoff rod failure,

combined with several operator errors,
led to a major power excursion of more
than double the reactor's rated output
at AECL's NRX reactor” then a big deal.1952

Entrant two Windscale Pile United Kingdom
rating 5 a “Release of radioactive material to
the environment following a fire in a reactor
core.” Toast a good year for nuclear disasters.1957

graphite core of a British nuclear “[weapons
programme] reactor at Windscale, Cumberland
(now Sellafield, Cumbria) caught fire, releasing
substantial amounts of radioactive contamination
into the surrounding area.” Radioactive fire.

A warm welcome to entrant three. Kyshtym
Russia rating 6 a “Significant release of
radioactive material to the environment
from explosion of a high activity waste tank.” 1957

Please all welcome contestant one back
Chalk River Canada (rating?) “Due to
inadequate cooling a damaged uranium
fuel rod caught fire and was torn in two.” 1958

Champagne pops cheer another good year
Vinč a Yugoslavia (rating?) “During
a subcritical counting experiment a power
buildup went undetected - six scientists
received high doses.” What detailed detail? 1958

Applause please for our first American entry
Santa Susana Field Laboratory US (rating?)
“Partial core meltdown.” Sounds serious.
Tick one deep operations public cover up.1959

Time to take a nice country waltz in a US county
Westinghouse Waltz Mill Westmoreland County
(rating?) a core melt accident in a test reactor? 1960

Looks like American is going for a hat trick
Charlestown US (rating?) “Error by a worker
at a United Nuclear Corporation fuel facility
led to an accidental criticality”. Human error? 1964

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Reflex (feat. Ben Lee)

Ben Lee: You've gone too far this time
Both: But I'm dancing on the Valentine
Ben Lee: I tell you somebody's fooling around
Both: With my chances on the dangerline
Both: I cross that bridge when I find it
Another day to make my stand, oh
High time is no time for deciding
If I should find a helping hand, oh
Both: So why don't you use it
Try not to bruise it
Buy time don't lose it
Both: The reflex is an only child
He's waiting in the park
The reflex is a jaw-defining
Treasure in the dark
Kylie Minogue: I'm getting off this ride
Both: But they won't slow down on the roundabout
Kylie Minogue: I sold the Renoir and the TV set
Both: Don't wanna be around when this gets out
Both: So why don't you use it
Try not to bruise it
Buy time don't lose it
Both: The reflex is an only child
He's waiting in the park
The reflex is a jaw-defining
Treasure in the dark
Both: Watching over lucky clover
Isn't that bizarre
Every little thing the reflex does
Leaves your answer with a question mark
Both: The reflex is an only child
He's waiting in the park
The reflex is a jaw-defining
Treasure in the dark
Both: Watching over lucky clover
Isn't that bizarre
Every little thing the reflex does
Leaves your answer with a question mark
Both: The reflex, what a game
He's hiding all the cards
The reflex is a jaw-defining
Treasure in the dark

song performed by Kylie Minogue
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Prejudice

IN yonder red-brick mansion, tight and square,
Just at the town's commencement, lives the mayor.
Some yards of shining gravel, fenced with box,
Lead to the painted portal--where one knocks :
There, in the left-hand parlour, all in state,
Sit he and she, on either side the grate.
But though their goods and chattels, sound and new,
Bespeak the owners very well to do,
His worship's wig and morning suit betray
Slight indications of an humbler day

That long, low shop, where still the name appears,
Some doors below, they kept for forty years :
And there, with various fortunes, smooth and rough,
They sold tobacco, coffee, tea, and snuff.
There labelled drawers display their spicy row--
Clove, mace, and nutmeg : from the ceiling low
Dangle long twelves and eights , and slender rush,
Mix'd with the varied forms of genus brush ;
Cask, firkin, bag, and barrel, crowd the floor,
And piles of country cheeses guard the door.
The frugal dames came in from far and near,
To buy their ounces and their quarterns here.
Hard was the toil, the profits slow to count,
And yet the mole-hill was at last a mount.
Those petty gains were hoarded day by day,
With little cost, for not a child had they ;
Till, long proceeding on the saving plan,
He found himself a warm, fore-handed man :
And being now arrived at life's decline,
Both he and she, they formed the bold design,
(Although it touched their prudence to the quick)
To turn their savings into stone and brick.
How many an ounce of tea and ounce of snuff,
There must have been consumed to make enough !

At length, with paint and paper, bright and gay,
The box was finished, and they went away.
But when their faces were no longer seen
Amongst the canisters of black and green ,
--Those well-known faces, all the country round--
'Twas said that had they levelled to the ground
The two old walnut trees before the door,
The customers would not have missed them more.
Now, like a pair of parrots in a cage,
They live, and civic honours crown their age :
Thrice, since the Whitsuntide they settled there,
Seven years ago, has he been chosen mayor ;
And now you'd scarcely know they were the same ;
Conscious he struts, of power, and wealth, and fame ;

[...] Read more

poem by Jane Taylor
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Commit To Suicide

I'm in my room,
In darkness and cold,
I am thinking of committing suicide.

I'm always alone,
And never having any fun,
I'm thinking of committing suicide.

I run away from home,
I'm no where to be found,
I'm thinking of committing suicide.

I have a knife in my hand,
And this note in the other,
I'm thinking of committing suicide.

Now that I am alone,
With this knife to my chest,
I'm about to commit suicide.

I say my last word,
' This was my fat and goodbye, '
I'm about to commit suicide.

I take my last breath,
And now I am dead,
I have just commit to suicide.

poem by Sam S.Slait
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Needle Time

I wish that I didn't hate you
Least not as much as I do
And squander all my contempt for
A little nothing like you
Liars like you are ten-a-penny
Women would slap you, if you knew any
Sometimes I feel just like committing a crime
I've got this suitcase of phony wisdom to dispense
These twenty-seven or so years
You'd think I (would have) made them some cents
Now they want me fingerprinted
Like I was smuggling drugs
While the government does deals with the most convenient thugs
Sometimes I feel just like committing a crime
It's Needle Time
I'm trying not to despise you with a passion that is hard to extinguish
Or maybe I really love you
Although it's hard to distinguish
I wish I could be
A little more like a saint is
Forgiving those who trespass against us
Sometimes I feel just like committing a crime
I started talking nonsense, just like I did to begin with
Around the time I tired of those sour English
Sometimes I feel just like committing a crime
It's Needle Time

song performed by Elvis Costello
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Committing Suicide is a Fad

We have met the enemy, and they are us.
—Walt Kelley, Pogo
†

In major national newspapers
very soon, you will see my ad:
thanks to years of research
and cutting-edge technology
a wonderful product, I’ve made,

for committing suicide.
And I say
“Committing suicide is a fad.”
I’m Dr. Bulggard.

My idea’s going to shake the world.
Since many people seem to commit suicide
of one sort or another, I thought,
there must be a big demand out there.
So I commissioned a marketing survey
and the stats we got were astounding;
nothing fell within the gray.

And all companies in this business
had only but one thing in common:
ever-rising growth!
Cigarettes, junk food, or the like,
that makes them each multibillionaires.

I say my product compares,
at anytime is better than theirs!

I wonder in this rapid age of technology,
we do everything faster,
why then does suicide remain so neglected?
In the matter of efficiency and fastness,
it seems sheer carelessness!

Let’s examine the inefficient ways
of committing suicide we see at present.
People smoke,
and know they may get cancer.
They take drugs
and know they may end up worse than dead.
They eat junk food
and know they may have a heart attack.
They don’t walk or exercise
although they’re forty pounds overweight.
Just keep counting…

[...] Read more

poem by Amrit Rathi
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Faking Love And That's All

People think that love is easily made.
And if it's not to their taste,
Somewhere else they will play charades.
But this is not true love.

Some people think that if they shop in malls...
Someone on an escalator,
Will solve their love calls.
But this is not true love.

Some will debate it's over-rated,
The meaning of love.
Some overdo it to inflate it,
The meaning of love.
Some lay and fake it,
The meaning of love.
And,
Some-just-toss-it out of their way.

Some will debate it's over-rated,
The meaning of love.
Some overdo it to inflate it,
The meaning of love.
Some lay and fake it,
The meaning of love.
And,
Some-never-had-love meant to stay.

People think that love is easily made.
And if it's not to their taste,
Somewhere else they will play charades.
But this is not true love.

Some people think that if they shop in malls...
Someone on an escalator,
Will solve their love calls.
But this is not true love.

Some will debate it's over-rated,
The meaning of love.
Some overdo it to inflate it,
The meaning of love.
Some lay and fake it,
The meaning of love.
And,
Some-never-had-love meant to stay...

With one that was a lover.
A lover in love.
Making loving like no other,

[...] Read more

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

Picture-Writing

In those days said Hiawatha,
"Lo! how all things fade and perish!
From the memory of the old men
Pass away the great traditions,
The achievements of the warriors,
The adventures of the hunters,
All the wisdom of the Medas,
All the craft of the Wabenos,
All the marvellous dreams and visions
Of the Jossakeeds, the Prophets!
"Great men die and are forgotten,
Wise men speak; their words of wisdom
Perish in the ears that hear them,
Do not reach the generations
That, as yet unborn, are waiting
In the great, mysterious darkness
Of the speechless days that shall be!
"On the grave-posts of our fathers
Are no signs, no figures painted;
Who are in those graves we know not,
Only know they are our fathers.
Of what kith they are and kindred,
From what old, ancestral Totem,
Be it Eagle, Bear, or Beaver,
They descended, this we know not,
Only know they are our fathers.
"Face to face we speak together,
But we cannot speak when absent,
Cannot send our voices from us
To the friends that dwell afar off;
Cannot send a secret message,
But the bearer learns our secret,
May pervert it, may betray it,
May reveal it unto others."
Thus said Hiawatha, walking
In the solitary forest,
Pondering, musing in the forest,
On the welfare of his people.
From his pouch he took his colors,
Took his paints of different colors,
On the smooth bark of a birch-tree
Painted many shapes and figures,
Wonderful and mystic figures,
And each figure had a meaning,
Each some word or thought suggested.
Gitche Manito the Mighty,
He, the Master of Life, was painted
As an egg, with points projecting
To the four winds of the heavens.
Everywhere is the Great Spirit,

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Song Of Hiawatha XIV: Picture-Writing

In those days said Hiawatha,
'Lo! how all things fade and perish!
From the memory of the old men
Pass away the great traditions,
The achievements of the warriors,
The adventures of the hunters,
All the wisdom of the Medas,
All the craft of the Wabenos,
All the marvellous dreams and visions
Of the Jossakeeds, the Prophets!
'Great men die and are forgotten,
Wise men speak; their words of wisdom
Perish in the ears that hear them,
Do not reach the generations
That, as yet unborn, are waiting
In the great, mysterious darkness
Of the speechless days that shall be!
'On the grave-posts of our fathers
Are no signs, no figures painted;
Who are in those graves we know not,
Only know they are our fathers.
Of what kith they are and kindred,
From what old, ancestral Totem,
Be it Eagle, Bear, or Beaver,
They descended, this we know not,
Only know they are our fathers.
'Face to face we speak together,
But we cannot speak when absent,
Cannot send our voices from us
To the friends that dwell afar off;
Cannot send a secret message,
But the bearer learns our secret,
May pervert it, may betray it,
May reveal it unto others.'
Thus said Hiawatha, walking
In the solitary forest,
Pondering, musing in the forest,
On the welfare of his people.
From his pouch he took his colors,
Took his paints of different colors,
On the smooth bark of a birch-tree
Painted many shapes and figures,
Wonderful and mystic figures,
And each figure had a meaning,
Each some word or thought suggested.
Gitche Manito the Mighty,
He, the Master of Life, was painted
As an egg, with points projecting
To the four winds of the heavens.
Everywhere is the Great Spirit,

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Error

this is not an ordinary error that one corrects
like a grammatical mistake
that with a slight stroke of the pen
everything becomes correct
and acceptable

this is repeated error
one knows it is an error but one does not correct it
it plunges and pushes and pulls
back to the same error again
something delicious
so sweet to the tongue
the mouth salivates
and the heart pounces upon
a thousand breathings

this is the error that one always looks forward to see
one evening and another
in a room the two of you sharing it
you kneel and pray and soar to heights
without so many words wasted

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Words have got.....

Words have no meaning if they are concealed
It has no relevance if it is not revealed
Prayers has got no meaning until they are accepted
Blessings have got no meaning until they are showered

Heart will not beat truly until it is made to
Feelings may not come on surface until they are made true
Vision has got no meaning until they are made to look through
Bitterness may not disappear until attempt is made to woo

Midas touch may make it like gold
It has no meaning if it remains cold
You may write anything on wall
It has no meaning g if no effort is made to call

Darkness may go only if day light emerges
Prayers may be heard only when truly urged
Anybody may wish for eternal happiness
What is use when externally it does not happen?

God may think twice before granting an access
If his disciple is not committing an excess
Truly loved life with noble intentions
It may have all its chance for retentions

Eternal pleasure and internal displeasure
Doesn’t go arm in arm and be measured
It is real urge from within that goes for test
Nothing can be achieved even if we try for our best

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

A good promise

Where does the promise stand when they prove hollow?
How people can trust when you stand in their eyes very low?
It is very strange but startling revelation of fact
The matter stands very clear as day light in fact

You are being judged not by action alone but by words too
It is fundamental error that we commit and it is very true
We loose all our credit and public loose faith and trust
It is most unfortunate thing in life we must improve upon or must

It has all the ingredients of a successful and powerful man
The whole world is under your feet and anything you can
You may be able to put all round show and succeed in plan
You may cut through the ice where as others may face the ban

Words have no meaning if they are hidden or concealed
It may gain momentum only when truly revealed
Prayers too offered with half heart has got no meaning
you will stand exposed and it may prove as demeaning

Heart will not beat truly until it is made to breath with ease
Feelings may not come on surface until they are forced to release
Vision has got no meaning until they are able to look through
Bitterness may not disappear until they are assuaged or attempt is made to woo

Midas touch can turn any metal into gold
Summer can only be realized with disappearance of cold
You might have written anything on wall for people to read
It has got no meaning g if you are not in position to lead

Darkness may go off only if day is emerged
Prayers may be heard only when they are truly urged
Anybody may wish to go in for eternal happiness
It has all the power to remove the loneliness

It is common knowledge that honor doesn’t come of its own
The harvest too may yield result only if seeds are properly sown
If they are not being taken care of properly nothing May come out
the success story is not written all of sudden but comes all about

No one may grant you an easy access
If you are showing off more or in excess
Not only must your work speak with good intentions
But there should be all chances for its retentions

God may think twice before granting an access
if his disciple is not committing an excess
truly loved life with noble intentions
it must have all its chance for retentions

[...] Read more

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

People are always defining and re-defining music. My style of playing has been characterized as smooth jazz and acid jazz. I listen as I play; I'm not caught up in defining the type of music I play.

quote by Roy Ayers
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Meaning Of Loneliness

Lost in a strange city, no where to turn
Far cry from the streets that I came from
It can get lonely when you're trav'ling hard
But you can even be lonely
Standin' in your own backyard
Nobody knows the existential dread
Of the things that go on inside someone else's head
Whether it be trivial or something that Dante said
But baby, nobody knows the meaning of loneliness
No matter how well ya know someone
You can only ever guess
How can you ever really know somebody else?
It takes more than a lifetime
Just to get to know yourself
Nobody knows the meaning of loneliness
(Instrumental & sax)
I have to say a word about solitude
For the soul it sometimes, they say can be good
And I'm partial to it myself, and well I must confess
Nobody knows the meaning of loneliness
Well, it's Satra and Camu
Neitche and Hess
If ya dig deep enough you're gonna end
Up in distress
And no one escapes havin' to live life
Under duress
And no one escapes the meaning of loneliness
Well, they say keep it simple
When it gets to be a mess
And fame and fortune
Never brought anyone happiness
I must be lucky, some of my friends think
That I'm really blessed
Nobody knows the meaning of loneliness
No-no-no-no-no-no
Nobody knows the meaning of loneliness
No-no, no-ooh body knows the meaning of loneliness
Nobody knows the meaning of loneliness.

song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

What Is...?

What is the meaning of hate?
Is it the dislike of someone different than you?
Or is it the loathing of something simple like broccoli?

What is the meaning of discrimination?
Is it the hatred of someone of a different background?
The hatred of skin color;
Or is it the bitter taste of being different from everyone else?

What is the meaning of uniqueness?
Is it the purpose of being odd and unusual?
The adaptation to your own life and style;
Or is it the stereotypical clan that society has put you?

What is the meaning of life?
Is it that time keeps moving; leaving us in the dust is leaves behind?
The endless stream of consciousness that everything has;
Or is it the meaningless and indefinable thing we give every day?

What is the meaning of death?
Is it that grim reaper knocking at your door?
The inky blackness of nothing;
Or is it something that can’t be defined only experienced when it is time?
Many questions are asked everyday without even meaning to ask them.
They are hidden within the minds of those who are too afraid to speak out;
To let THEIR voices be heard.
So I ask you these questions in hope that you will ask them yourself;
To find the meaning of it for yourself and not what others say it is.

One final question is all I leave you with.
What is the meaning of everything that you thought you knew?

poem by Regan Meade
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

The Interpretation of Nature and

I.

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


II.

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

III.

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

IV.

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

V.

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

VI.

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

VII.

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

VIII.

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

IX.

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

X.

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

XI.

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

XII.

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

XIII.

[...] Read more

poem by Sir Francis Bacon
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Veiled Scenes Behind The Sun

Perceived glimpses cast emotions
Perceptions give glimpses
Wrapped in a draped veil
Cupped hands you hold out with discretion
An offering of vagueness
When a turning sun reveals

Truth maybe scant but
Concealing the obvious is obvious
When a turning sun reveals
Eyes meeting eyes are not insincere
When the turning sun reveals

A pall fades behind the dark side
Truth in abstention drapes around me
It revolves then evolves
Bending the beating heart
When a turning sun reveals

When the turning sun turns
There is dimness, there is luminosity
Aspirations and bleakness
For all this disappears behind the sun gloaming

poem by Eric Von Rohr
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!

Telephone Conversation

Wednesday, January 23,2008
Week 10: Telephone Conversation by Wole Soyinka

Week 10 Dividing lines: Differences in Class, race, Gender and Ideology

Telephone Conversation
by Wole Soyinka

The price seemed reasonable, location
Indifferent. The landlady swore she lived
Off premises. Nothing remained
But self-confession. 'Madam, ' I warned,
'I hate a wasted journey—I am African.'
Silence. Silenced transmission of
Pressurized good-breeding. Voice, when it came,
Lipstick coated, long gold rolled
Cigarette-holder pipped. Caught I was foully.
'HOW DARK? '... I had not misheard... 'ARE YOU LIGHT
OR VERY DARK? ' Button B, Button A.* Stench
Of rancid breath of public hide-and-speak.
Red booth. Red pillar box. Red double-tiered
Omnibus squelching tar. It was real! Shamed
By ill-mannered silence, surrender
Pushed dumbfounded to beg simplification.
Considerate she was, varying the emphasis-
'ARE YOU DARK? OR VERY LIGHT? ' Revelation came.
'You mean-like plain or milk chocolate? '
Her assent was clinical, crushing in its light
Impersonality. Rapidly, wave-length adjusted,
I chose. 'West African sepia'-and as afterthought,
'Down in my passport.' Silence for spectroscopic
Flight of fancy, till truthfulness clanged her accent
Hard on the mouthpiece. 'WHAT'S THAT? ' conceding
'DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS.' 'Like brunette.'
'THAT'S DARK, ISN'T IT? ' 'Not altogether.
Facially, I am brunette, but, madam, you should see
The rest of me. Palm of my hand, soles of my feet
Are a peroxide blond. Friction, caused-

[...] Read more

poem by Tamilarasi Shalu
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!