Find out just what people will submit to, and you have found out the exact amount of injustice and wrong which will be imposed upon them; and these will continue until they are resisted with either words or blows, or both. The limits of tyrants are prescribed by the endurance of those whom they oppress.
quote by Frederick Douglass
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Find out just what any people will quietly submit to and you have the exact measure of the injustice and wrong which will be imposed on them.
quote by Frederick Douglass
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The limits of tyrants are prescribed by the endurance of those whom they oppose.
quote by Frederick Douglass
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The limits of tyrants are prescribed by the endurance of those whom they oppose.
quote by Frederick Douglass
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whatever I take, I take too much or too little; I do not take the exact amount. The exact amount is no use to me.
quote by Antonio Porchia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sub Culture (Razormaid!)
I like walking in the park
When it gets late at night
I move 'round in the dark
And leave when it gets light
I sit around by day
Tied up in chains so tight
These crazy words of mine
So wrong they could be right
What do I get out of this?
I always try, I always miss
One of these days you'll go back to your home
You won't even notice that you are alone
One of these days when you sit by yourself
You'll realise you can't show off without someone else
In the end you will submit
It's got to hurt you a little bit
I like talking in my sleep
When people work so hard
They need what they can't keep
A choice that leaves them scarred
A view without a room
Unveils the truth so soon
And when the sun goes down
You've lost what you had found
What do I get out of this?
I always try, I always miss
One of these days you'll go back to your home
You won't even notice that you are alone
One of these days when you sit by yourself
You'll realise you can't show off without someone else
In the end you will submit
It's got to hurt you a little bit
One of these days you'll go back to your home
You won't even notice that you are alone
One of these days when you sit by yourself
You'll realise you can't show off without someone else
In the end you will submit
It's got to hurt you a little bit
What do I get out of this?
I always try, I always miss
One of these days you'll go back to your home
You won't even notice that you are alone
One of these days when you sit by yourself
You'll realise you can't show off without someone else
In the end you will submit
It's got to hurt you a little bit
What do I get out of this?
I always try, I always miss
One of these days you'll go back to your home
You won't even notice that you are alone
song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Recap:
Diminished to limits.
Recap:
Diminished to limits.
Recap:
Diminished to limits.
Recap:
Diminished to limits.
Diminished to limits.
Diminished to limits.
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Diminished to limits.
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Diminished to limits.
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Diminished to limits.
Diminished to limits.
Diminished to limits.
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Demographics had established,
The success and conditions...
Of a targeted marketing.
To direct effective hype,
Among those selected to be chosen.
Those days have faded away,
From the land of steady habits.
And drift as nomads depleted of funds,
Are those unable to repay for a credited feasting done.
And elimination of debits wished,
Increase and do not leave.
So those rush away in the kicking up of dust...
With tears from their eyes drippimg as they weep.
Recap:
Those enforced to be meek and weak,
Are solicited to exhaust their kept treasures.
In the hopes of prolonging,
The ones addicted to feeding themselves selfishly.
Recap:
Conditions for optimistic change gone ignored has past.
This can not be restored to those celebrating,
In the hopes to inflict upon others their will.
Closed are those doors.
Recap:
The ones found designing deceitful traps,
Have become entrapped.
Their ways have not a dividend saved...
For them to expect a profit that is returned.
Recap:
Within their own borders...
They become crazed!
Diminished to limits.
Recap:
Diminished to limits.
Recap:
Diminished to limits.
Recap:
Diminished to limits.
Diminished to limits.
Diminished to limits.
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Diminished to limits.
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Diminished to limits.
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Diminished to limits.
Diminished to limits.
Diminished to limits.
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But a tired retreading,
Just wont allow that.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Power
I resisted
He resisted
We both resisted!
Yet, the power of
Lust –
Overpowered us ;)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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To The Limits
to the limits...
of understanding,
and knowledge.
of power, and pride.
of caring, and involvement;
of hope and desire...
to the limits...
of skies and stars
and worlds unexplored.
of body, and soul,
of reach and touch;
of truth and comprehension....
to the limits...
of right and wrong,
of shadow and form....
of life and death,
of tears and laughter;
to the limits....
and one step beyond!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Drugged Up and Prescribed Medicated Existences Limited
If folks think I'm a homo?
I'm gonna give them that,
And something more than homo.
If they think of me as straight?
They will get that too,
On their dinner plate.
People finding slots to lock,
Names and tags on one another...
Have done themselves the injustice.
And grounded, they are, in cemented ignorance.
Trying to find themselves in religions,
Where those 'church' addicted commit most the sins.
Is a programming of the mind that's done.
To have those in need be controlled by someone.
And me,
My life will be loved.
Independently to breathe as it was given to me.
And if another human being wishes to hug me with love,
They will get that received.
Just how it was given to me.
But I do have my preferences.
If you get my drift!
So if folks think I'm a homo?
I'm gonna give them that,
And something more than homo.
If they think of me as straight?
They will get that too,
On their dinner plate.
I do not spend my time,
With folks seeking to find a hole
To bury their brains including their minds.
Is there anything else folks can do?
Than to entertain their empty lives,
With who screwing and doing 'who'.
This is all so immature and foolish.
I'm going to live my life as the gift it is.
And leave those who are self righteous about theirs,
To their own drugged up and prescribed medicated existences limited.
'I bet you can't say that five times fast? '
What? 'drugged up and prescribed medicated existences limited'?
You're right!
I had trouble saying it 'that' time and the first as slow as possible.
I am the author.
So...
I don't have to say it at all.
It's written and for that purpose intended.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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With A Motive Not To Be Provoked
There are people with a motive,
To be...
Left alone.
And many are to this committed.
Many are to this committed.
And there are people more devoted,
To keep their peace condoned.
And many are to this committed.
Many are to this committed.
To get away from all the alibis.
And those who live their lives making up lies.
With so many to this committed.
As if there's benefit in it.
To change what they say in a minute.
This limits and this diminishes.
This limits and this diminishes.
People have a motive,
To be...
Alone!
And doing this free without limits.
And doing this free without limits.
And doing this free without limits.
And doing this free without limits.
To get away from all the alibis.
And doing this free without limits.
And doing this free without limits.
And those who live their lives making up lies.
To change what they say in a minute.
And doing this free without limits.
And doing this free without limits.
There are people with a motive,
To be...
Left alone.
And many are to this committed.
Many are to this committed.
And doing this free without limits.
And doing this free without limits.
Doing this free without limits.
Doing this free without limits.
There are people with a motive,
To be...
Left alone.
And many are to this committed.
Many are to this committed.
And doing this free without limits.
Doing this free without limits.
With a motive not to be provoked!
And...
Many are to this committed.
Many are to this committed.
And doing this free without limits.
Doing this free without limits.
With a motive not to be provoked!
And...
Many are to this committed.
And...
Doing this free without limits.
And...
With a motive not to be provoked!
And...
Many are to this committed.
And...
Doing this free without limits.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Endurance
We punish our bodies
in the most incredible ways
to ensure we reach
the standard we want to attain,
just to see how much
our fresh and blood can stand.
We push ourselves
to our upper limits
just to seek how much
our endurance level is.
When pain becomes excruciating
we still carry on
until our senses are blinded,
our heart rate sores,
nerves begin to twitch
and our breathing becomes laboured,
yet still we carry on
fighting all that will kill us
just to seek how much
our endurance level is.
11 May 2012
poem by David Harris
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Looking For Something
he is looking for something
he knows what is it
and he can really find it
at the exact location
where it may be found
there is something in
that something however
that prevents him from
finding and touching it
it is his own mirror
when he touches it
he breaks into pieces
and dies in an instant
he is looking for something
and he knows where it is
exactly found, he knows
what happens next and
so here he is pretending.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Name Is Qalme-Tari
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
Were I go
People will follow.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
Were I go
Death follows.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
I bring death
Upon people of injustice.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
Death for people of injustice.
Tyrants beware!
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
Dictators beware
I come for thee.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
Kidnapers beware
I come for thee.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
Child abusers beware
I come for thee.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
For those of injustice
I am Death.
My name is Estela
Mistress of Hope
For those of purity
I am Hope
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
The in just
Shall flee before me.
My name is Estela
Mistress of Hope
The pure
Shall follow me.
My name is Qalme-Tari
Mistress of Death.
My name is Estela
Mistress of Hope
Were I go
People will flee.
Were I go
People will follow.
I am Qalme Tari Mistress of Death Nat. Norville.
Cretics Welcome
poem by Athena Goddess of Wisdom Lumis Light to all
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Unreasonable Words (an abstraction of reason)
I tire of my old language.
So many words
no longer fly.
I'm left to ponder:
Who am I?
It seems so strange
that in my mind,
I can open doors
so wide, up to the sky, going far into rooms
containing many new wonders to find.
Yet on this wrinkled paper
it's all ancient,
old and dusty.
A few scattered syllables,
dank and musty.
How many times,
by how many people
in how many ways
can words be flown?
... perhaps as many,
and as much
as the air can be breathed
that's millions of years old...
As long as people have
been breathing,
they have been speaking.
The air will continue on,
refreshing.
I hope the words
shall also.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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A Poet Tried To Shackle My Words
A poet tried to shackle my words,
as if from every poem
the message was stripped,
as if nowhere there was any mastery
of rhythm and sound to be found
as if I had sold my soul
to masses of people reading my verses,
as if I live in disrespect
to the expertise that a great poet
displays in his work
as if every line of mine
was just a wild cacophony
that I had flung together
in a utter hurry
to shower down on crowds of people.
Yet I while I swam against a tempest sea,
sticking to the truth and integrity,
trying to find answers to life’s mysteries
and problems
trying to expose injustice and oppression
there was boasting about a elitis clique
that totally excludes me
but they were going along the path
of political correctness and maybe indifference,
being far too scared to ruffle some feathers,
writing verses sixty times over and over
before they were becoming poems somehow,
before their words were catching some magic
believing that a great poem,
is like a jigsaw puzzle,
that you have got to unravel
with a dictionary,
where simple words can fuse together
with a own type of magic,
lacking in the ability
to find poetry in ordinary things,
to create poetry in lines
that by themselves fuses together
to create something great
but my words kept on coming,
falling into lines,
as if designed by a divine presence
and by themselves fused
into much deeper meaning
than I could find with my own abilities.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I must be free... free to do what I like, say what I like, write what I like, within the limits prescribed for me by my own sense of what is seemly and fitting.
quote by Thomas Edward Brown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Is Fate
What is fate
Is it really get seeded
In the mother's womb?
Why is it determined
Right there?
How am I free then?
Have I no other alternative
But to submit myself?
If yes
It is injustice.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Were Going Wrong
By jack bruce
Please open your eyes.
Try to realize.
I found out today were going wrong,
Were going wrong.
Please open your mind.
See what you can find.
I found out today were going wrong,
Were going wrong.
Were going wrong.
Were going wrong.
Were going wrong.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Were Going Wrong
By jack bruce
Please open your eyes.
Try to realize.
I found out today were going wrong,
Were going wrong.
Please open your mind.
See what you can find.
I found out today were going wrong,
Were going wrong.
Were going wrong.
Were going wrong.
Were going wrong.
song performed by by Cream
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Storybook
In the storybook, we are introduced to an elf,
A mind to exact wrong on the fellow man;
I was twenty-three when I heard of him in the real world,
After entering the astral gate transporting me there.
For one of us are three of them,
More golden are their appearances.
My book lies but not so often,
My charismatic elf lives a long life,
He will be my friend for the remainder of the visit.
He will not exact wrong on fellow men.
Thus, the book is straightforwardly my own story.
poem by Naveed Akram
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