Iago: Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit and lost without deserving.
line from Othello, II, 3, script by William Shakespeare (1603)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Cassio: Reputation, reputation, reputation! Oh, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation!
line from Othello, Act II, Scene 3 by William Shakespeare (1603)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Iago: Come, be a man. Drown thyself? Drown cats and blind puppies! I have professed me thy friend, and I confess me knit to thy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness.
line from Othello, Act I, Scene 3 by William Shakespeare (1603)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Roderigo: Tush! never tell me; I take it much unkindly that thou, Iago, who hast had my purse as if the strings were thine, shouldst know of this.
Iago: 'Sblood, but you will not hear me: if ever I did dream of such a matter, abbhor me.
line from Othello, Act I, Scene 1 by William Shakespeare (1603)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Embarrassed And Battered
Embarrassed and battered.
And nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Embarrassed and battered.
And nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Some people bring home their tempers to leave.
And nothing you have done is deserving of that.
While others show their hearts hanging on their sleeves.
And nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Dragging on their backs every burden to keep.
And nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Bringing on their moodiness when they turn the key.
And nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Keeping everybody up so they can't sleep.
And nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Embarrassed and battered.
And nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Embarrassed and battered.
And nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Some people bring home their tempers to leave.
Bringing on their moodiness when they turn the key.
Dragging on their backs every burden to keep.
While others show their hearts hanging on their sleeves.
Keeping everybody up so they can't sleep.
And nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Embarrassed and battered.
And nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Embarrassed and battered.
And nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Nothing you have done is deserving of that.
Embarrassed and battered.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Basically, I viewed any work of art as an imposition of another person's taste, and saw the individual making this imposition as a kind of dictator.
quote by Henry Flynt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Colloquial Reply: To Any Newsboy
If you lay for Iago at the stage door with a brick
You have missed the moral of the play.
He will have a midnight supper with Othello and his wife.
They will chirp together and be gay.
But the things Iago stands for must go down into the dust:
Lying and suspicion and conspiracy and lust.
And I cannot hate the Kaiser (I hope you understand.)
Yet I chase the thing he stands for with a brickbat in my hand.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Reputation is only a candle, of wavering and uncertain flame, and easily blown out, but it is the light by which the world looks for and finds merit.
quote by James Russell Lowell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It Only Takes One To Do An 'Iago
Undermining has always been a trait,
Of those envious of others' deeds.
Conflicts have initiated over images raised.
Only to be replaced,
By mediocre initiatives.
And one with a taste to victimize with venom
It only takes one to do an 'Iago'.
You know
Othello's foe?
That legendary Moor,
In the military service of Venice.
Married to Desdemona,
And
The subject and tragic figure of Shakespeare's play.
That's all it takes!
An Iago who fakes a loyalty.
But has traitor on the mind,
And equipped to do it with lips.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Feet With a Little Dirt
How can the reputation of one
Who seeks attention
Be blemished
When that is the aimed sought
And given?
It is the reputation of those
Who claim to have walked on water...
And choose to remain seen
With toes toejam free and far from wetness!
Something stinks here!
The feet with a little dirt,
Deserves some forgiveness first!
The others?
Give them a thorough examination.
And conceal a weapon to defend yourself.
Something here is clearly hidden.
Arm yourself...
With at least a deodorizer!
Forget goldleaf crosses dangling from the neck.
They probably have big ones...
Crusted in diamonds or something,
To attract your attention...
Away from false intentions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When a management with a reputation for brilliance tackles a business with a reputation for bad economics, it is the reputation of the business that remains intact.
quote by Warren Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have much to say why my reputation should be rescued from the load of false accusation and calumny which has been heaped upon it.
quote by Robert Emmet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Promises For Me Were Easy To Make
Promises for me
Were easy to make
Giving false hopes
To people
Not fulfilling them
Was my favorite way
Promise of yes
Always turned into no
Till my relations
Turned sour
With people around
I lost their trust
My reputation tarnished
Even an honest truth
Was not believed
I was left in lurch
Frustrated and depressed
The damage was done
Could not be repaired again
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Spirit of Elevation
What is it you wish...
You claim is there you wait for?
Hop aboard,
The Spirit of Elevation.
Separate yourself,
From those isolation days.
Get rid of devastating implementations.
Planted to erase,
The best of your well being...
Inside that's craved!
Hop aboard,
The Spirit of Elevation.
Replace your visions of limitation.
Remove any traces of it that sits.
To keep you in the midst of feared conflicts!
Get rid of it!
There is nothing to value,
To maintain such a grip.
Get rid of it!
Get rid of it!
There is nothing of it that benefits!
Get rid of it!
Get rid of it!
And delight in a higher consciousness.
Hop aboard,
The Spirit of Elevation.
Replace your visions of limitation.
Remove any traces of it that sits.
To keep you in the midst of feared conflicts!
Get rid of it!
There is nothing to value,
To maintain such a grip.
Get rid of it!
Get rid of it!
There is nothing of it that benefits!
Get rid of it!
Get rid of it!
And delight in a higher consciousness.
What is it you wish...
You claim is there you wait for?
Hop aboard,
The Spirit of Elevation.
Separate yourself,
From those isolation days.
Get rid of devastating implementations.
Planted to erase,
The best of your well being...
Inside that's craved!
You're more deserving of better days.
You're more deserving of better days.
You're more deserving of better days.
You're more deserving of better days.
Hop aboard...
The Spirit of Elevation!
You're more deserving of better days.
You're more deserving of better days.
You're more deserving of better days.
You're more deserving of better days.
You're more deserving of what has been served...
Get up the nerve.
Who's more deserving?
You're more deserving of better days.
Yes...
You're more deserving of better days.
Yes...
You're more deserving of better days.
Yes...
You're more deserving of better days.
YES
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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If a man and his wife are deserving, god's presence is with them; if they are not deserving, fire consumes them.
The elite media has been caught in so many lies because of false statements that its whole reputation has eroded, their circulation is down, and their profits are down.
quote by Geraldo Rivera
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rueben is Dead
Pen Brutish Rueben is dead, cold blooded, and dumb
We shall not mourn,
Our first born scribe now buried in their ruins, as many of his likes
Weep not comrades,
Will he speak for himself?
Not again,
The rejoinder master lies on the laps of Delilah’s whom he once denounced
He shook hands with the devil and died
Ruben was not killed with their barrels when he ought to have been dead
He gave himself up willingly
And threw reputation to the mire
The columns of contradicted life condemns conscience
Disparaged pages of Jewish fated hypocrisies
Public circulated ranting at the Rutam House for advantage
Only reprobates, dares to defend these, justifying them in rejoinders
The obvious, we lost him
A consenting silence, the booing of legislators, the shock of commoners
No rejoinders, none till the expiration of his mingle after four years,
If it comes,
It will be weak, supportive of the evil he once decries
We lost him.
A rare obituary for comrade’s compromise
In honour, dishonoured
Gather yourselves together to the head counts
One man is missing again, amongst scrawl’s giants
His price was paid, fully paid
His dignity mellowed for pomp
Ruben,
Trapped by ganger wigs to the tricks of the Pol
Silence demeaning an age long chevron,
Now bowed to the “Yes-man-ship” of intelligential
Is this the manner of a fall?
“Unelected” Ruben,
Scoop the motives when deeds are done
Now, in reiterates, a kiss of betrayal
For $, £, #
Bring us no more juice of their scandals, wrapped around your neck
Reputation!
“Oft got without merit, lost without deserving”
And like the morsel of Esau,
Or the heel of Achilles
He fell headlong to his secret desired lust,
The motivation of his wittiness, “gain”
“Use to be”, delectable most read columnar
The guardian of innocent brave Negro clone,
A tutor to unsoiled zealous journalist
Until his price was determined in the closet of crafters
And as Judas, sold his master and friends the masses
Besmirched Ruben,
Farewell,
From the table of our pride and denouncement,
From the honour of untainted degrees,
From the circle of few men loyal to conscience,
From the gathering of consistent morality,
We bid you farewell,
When the roll call is renewed after this ruin, “sell-outs” shall not be there
Farewell Ruben, enjoy the loots
Farewell
poem by Macaulay Akinbami
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Awakened From A Dream
We have stumbled a while, five long years,
Tripped up by large and small defeats.
You lost your job, and I lost mine.
Our new ones pay us less, but everything,
And everyone, we owe is getting more.
The math is bad. We're living now from
Hand to mouth. Those sunny visions
We once had, of idle final years among
The mountains, and of trips abroad,
Have clouded. With our savings gone,
The years ahead won't be so idle. We'll
Be tethered to this home, which crumbles,
Ceiling pieces falling to the floor for us
To stumble on.
poem by Lawrence Beck
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Days Of 1896
He became completely degraded. His erotic tendency,
condemned and strictly forbidden
(but innate for all that) , was the cause of it:
society was totally prudish.
He gradually lost what little money he had,
then his social standing, then his reputation.
Nearly thirty, he had never worked a full year—
at least not at a legitimate job.
Sometimes he earned enough to get by
acting the go-between in deals considered shameful.
He ended up the type likely to compromise you thoroughly
if you were seen around with him often.
But this isn't the whole story—that would not be fair.
The memory of his beauty deserves better.
There is another angle; seen from that
he appears attractive, appears
a simple, genuine child of love,
without hesitation putting,
above his honor and reputation,
the pure sensuality of his pure flesh.
Above his reputation? But society,
prudish and stupid, had it wrong.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Lost Time
On many an idle day have I grieved over lost time.
But it is never lost, my lord.
Thou hast taken every moment of my life in thine own hands.
Hidden in the heart of things thou art nourishing seeds into sprouts,
buds into blossoms, and ripening flowers into fruitfulness.
I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed
and imagined all work had ceased.
In the morning I woke up
and found my garden full with wonders of flowers.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Lost poem...Lost love..
Lost poem...
Lost words...
Lost feeling..
Lost love...
Nay, these are not lost, it is a deception
Nay, these are not lost, a false perception
Lost poem...
Lost words...
Lost feeling..
Lost love...
Nay, these are not lost, they exist deep in my soul,
Ultimate forgiveness, a high ideal, and yet a worthy goal.
Lost poem...
Lost words...
Lost feeling..
Lost love...
poem by Chad Fisher
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