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There Is A Poem Of Outrage And Sorrow

THERE IS A POEM OF OUTRAGE AND SORROW

There is a poem of outrage and sorrow I cannot write in a strong enough way-
It concerns the injustice of allowing murderers to go free-
It concerns the additional hurt and pain given to families
Who have had their loved ones cruelly taken from them-
It concerns one person I knew and deeply cared for
Burned to death-
A kind quiet man
Whose murderer will now go free-
There is a poem of outrage and sorrow I cannot write in a strong enough way-
It concerns a country so concerned with saving one life
That they risk the lives of many to do this
A country too compassionate
And an enemy so evil it sings and celebrates the deaths of children-
There is a poem of outrage and sorrow I cannot write in a strong enough way-

poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Cenci : A Tragedy In Five Acts

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

Count Francesco Cenci.
Giacomo, his Son.
Bernardo, his Son.
Cardinal Camillo.
Orsino, a Prelate.
Savella, the Pope's Legate.
Olimpio, Assassin.
Marzio, Assassin.
Andrea, Servant to Cenci.
Nobles, Judges, Guards, Servants.
Lucretia, Wife of Cenci, and Step-mother of his children.
Beatrice, his Daughter.

The Scene lies principally in Rome, but changes during the Fourth Act to Petrella, a castle among the Apulian Apennines.
Time. During the Pontificate of Clement VIII.

ACT I

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poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Tyranny Normality

The media is the seduction of human desire
(Set their money, set their money, on fire)
If you try to sell me the truth then I know youre a liar
A liar
Its the tyranny of normality
Its the tyranny of normality
Our culture has become complacent and has no desire
(Take back, take back our empire)
And the ethical slaughter of truth needs to be retired
retired
Its the tyranny of normality
Its the tyranny of normality
Its the death of outrage
I want to turn a new page
I mourn the death of our age
The obituarys on the front page
Its the death of outrage
I want to turn a new page
I mourn the death of our age
The obituarys on the front page

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song performed by Papa Roach
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Regiment of Princes

Musynge upon the restlees bysynesse
Which that this troubly world hath ay on honde,
That othir thyng than fruyt of bittirnesse
Ne yildith naght, as I can undirstonde,
At Chestres In, right faste by the Stronde,
As I lay in my bed upon a nyght,
Thoght me byrefte of sleep the force and might. 1

And many a day and nyght that wikkid hyne
Hadde beforn vexed my poore goost
So grevously that of angwissh and pyne
No rycher man was nowhere in no coost.
This dar I seyn, may no wight make his boost
That he with thoght was bet than I aqweynted,
For to the deeth he wel ny hath me feynted.

Bysyly in my mynde I gan revolve
The welthe unseur of every creature,
How lightly that Fortune it can dissolve
Whan that hir list that it no lenger dure;

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poem by Thomas Hoccleve
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One of the sad things about contemporary journalism is that it actually matters very little. The world now is almost inured to the power of journalism. The best journalism would manage to outrage people. And people are less and less inclined to outrage.

quote by David Simon
Added by Lucian Velea
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Watching As If Distanced

Collective outrage,
Seems only to connect...
When those unsuspecting,
Become affected.

Prior to that,
People could care less...
Who suffers from neglect.
And the evidence of that,
Has been closer to everyone's doorstep.
But the knocking on doors,
Has proven to be effective!

Collective outrage,
Seems only to connect...
When those unsuspecting,
Become affected.

Leaving those standing in disbelief,
Watching as if distanced from this...

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Emotional Food Chain

Anger eats Balanced
Balanced eats Confusion
Confusion eats Delight
Delight eats Exasperation
Exasperation eats Forgiveness
Forgiveness eats Grief
Grief eats Humor
Humor eats Isolation
Isolation eats Joy
Joy eats Knottiness
Knottiness eats Love
Love eats Moodiness
Moodiness eats Nicety
Nicety eats Outrage
Outrage eats Peace
Peace eats Quick-temperament
Quick-temperament eats Righteousness
Righteousness eats Stupidity
Stupidity eats Trust
Trust eats Unhappiness

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poem by Champs Ulysses Cabinatan
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Found In Our Treasured Constitution

Oh...
Today those enraged,
Have become engaged...
With those displaying their outrage.
As they publicly defend their craze.

With excuses made,
About their accepted way of life.
One that incenses the activation of division...
That spreads like a cancer,
To have no ending in sight.

Although they are responsible for conflicts incited,
Like children they are...
Denying they've started any fights.
And yet those who are observing the initiation of all of this...
Do not wish to admit,
They've been influenced by those given microphones...
To air their 'beefs',
That victimizes those innocent.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Feelings of a Yankee on the Fall of Chirak

Inspired by Shelley

I was indifferent to
you, spineless Vichy
statist, appeaser of thugs, their

pinch-faced outrage-ala-mode raining Molotovs on cops clad black as scorched earth, Peugeots, Citroens, Opals, burning in high-
toned pan of Ingres’s Odalisque, from the shadows to

the lighted courtyard, Pei’s pyramid & the Renaissance sacrificed from
history for foreign
endowments financing foot-washers for the

trees along the Champs-Elysees in sight of
Fitzgerald and Papa Hemingway,
ghosts brooding in ex-pats’ haunts, Teddy’s “mollycoddle”

charge echoing thru the
yellow night, &
@ home and the non-trad college, not a word…

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poem by Cretan Maineiac
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The Song Of Hiawatha XIX: The Ghosts

Never stoops the soaring vulture
On his quarry in the desert,
On the sick or wounded bison,
But another vulture, watching
From his high aerial look-out,
Sees the downward plunge, and follows;
And a third pursues the second,
Coming from the invisible ether,
First a speck, and then a vulture,
Till the air is dark with pinions.
So disasters come not singly;
But as if they watched and waited,
Scanning one another's motions,
When the first descends, the others
Follow, follow, gathering flock-wise
Round their victim, sick and wounded,
First a shadow, then a sorrow,
Till the air is dark with anguish.
Now, o'er all the dreary North-land,
Mighty Peboan, the Winter,

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poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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