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Slander
The word is out -- heads are talkin
And just like a fire ragin wild in the night,
The rumors hot, the room is rockin,
Its out of control, too vicious to fight
Two lovers split -- a heart is shattered
And out of revenge it steals through the night,
Making sure the lies are scattered
To every border of this town tonight
The words on the street, you call it truth,
I call it slander,
Times are tough, talk is cheap --
Soon theyll talk about you --
Slander
The jury splits -- undecided,
Theyre searching for clues,
My live in their hands
The hour has come, they stand divided,
The future shall judge the good and the bad
And now, theres talk on the street --
I call it slander,
I will fight this somehow
Revenge will be sweet
Slander -- like a knife in my heart --
Slander
Slander -- gonna keep us apart --
Slander
Slander c theres talk on the street
Slander -- revenge will be sweet
Slander -- Im ready to fight
Slander -- I will find it tonight
Slander -- like a knife in my heart --
Slander
Slander -- gonna keep us apart
Slander
Slander -- theres talk on the street --
Slander -- revenge will be sweet
Slander -- too vicious to fight
Slander -- wild in the night
song performed by by Survivor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flashing, Flashing Lights
rays of flashing lights, flashing in the dead of night
so I screwed up and pulled the red handle, the screaming fire alarm sounds off, so I figured it was a water line, yet no, a dry air system, so I summoned the guard, my racing heart beating hard, flashing lights, alarm silenced, yet lights still flashing, flashing into the night
poem by Matt Mondschein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Slander is more deadly than weapons; weapons wound from close range, slander hurts from a distance.
The Flashing Light
The flashing light up on the hill...
I wink, and it winks back.
The flashing light up on the hill...
its consistency annoys me.
The flashing light up on the hill...
perhaps its trying to tell me something?
The flashing light up on the hill...
it will still be there when I'm gone.
poem by Eila Mahima Jaipaul
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unlabelled phobia II
Vibrating my ear drums
Are stimulus of comfort
In my brain, interpreted as mockery.
My interpretation: Comforting-mockery.
Irony so ironical to real cognition.
Emblazoned on my soma the logo of insecurity.
Fear of what, infact?
Since intact my somatic intellect.
poem by Kctony Xtopher Nkwocha
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Slander
Slander has a sharper edge than a sword,
More venomous than venom in action,
More severe than cyclones in damage,
And penetrates through the impenetrable.
Victims of slander are often women,
Mostly mistresses of men in high ranks,
Maidens of all ranks and famous queens.
It sleeps with them in their graves to our delight.
28.02.2009
[Inspired by Shakespeare’s Cymbeline act III, iv]
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mockery To Waste Money
Mockery to waste money
And enjoy life
Waste time and energy
Direct not what to write
And what not to write
How to dance
And how not to dance
Deprived not dues
Bare necessities
And not be a
Subject of mockery.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Scandal
She hastens out and scarcely pins her clothes
To hear the news and tell the news she knows;
She talks of sluts, marks each unmended gown,
Her self the dirtiest slut in all the town.
She stands with eager haste at slander's tale,
And drinks the news as drunkards drink their ale.
Excuse is ready at the biggest lie--
She only heard it and it passes bye.
The very cat looks up and knows her face
And hastens to the chair to get the place;
When once set down she never goes away,
Till tales are done and talk has nought to say.
She goes from house to house the village oer,
Her slander bothers everybody's door.
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To The Irish Delegates
Farewell! The gold we send shall be a token
Of that which in our hearts is growing strong;
You asked our sympathy, and we have spoken—
“They wrong us who our brothers rob and wrong.”
Tell Ireland—tell her in her desolation,
That hearts within the South for her have bled—
That scalding tears of helpless indignation
By eyes that read her cruel wrongs are shed.
Helpless no more! but strong to act hereafter,
For silenced arc the “loyal subjects’” sneers—
Too long have Ireland’s wrongs been words of laughter—
Arch-mockery to tickle British ears.
Tell Ireland that they lie of us—they slander,
Who say we care not for another’s wrong;
For we are not the men to kneel and pander
To tyranny, because the tyrant’s strong.
Take back across the waves Australia’s message,
And say our hearts are big, and strong our hands,
Tell Ireland that for her is surest presage
Of fate as fair as of these Southern lands.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Peg and Plot To Slot Slander
Doing their best to peg and plot to slot slander,
Anywhere a suspicious kindness sits...
To deliver confusion,
With an amused wickedness.
That is their choice of direction.
And 'blasphemous'?
Oh yes!
This is not a matter of suggestion.
It is as obvious as light pierces darkness.
Those who love to speak of God,
And whisper demonic gossip...
Maybe a next door neighbor.
These creatures crawl all over the place!
And fast.
Saying who should be doing what and how...
With no lives to live of their own.
None that is shown,
They can mine their own business.
Doing their best to peg and plot to slot slander,
Anywhere a suspicious kindness sits...
To deliver confusion,
With an amused wickedness.
That is their choice of direction.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He who knows how to flatter also knows how to slander.
quote by Napoleon Bonaparte
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LXXIV
THE MOCKERY OF LIFE
God! What a mockery is this life of ours!
Cast forth in blood and pain from our mother's womb,
Most like an excrement, and weeping showers
Of senseless tears: unreasoning, naked, dumb,
The symbol of all weakness and the sum:
Our very life a sufferance.--Presently,
Grown stronger, we must fight for standing--room
Upon the earth, and the bare liberty
To breathe and move. We crave the right to toil.
We push, we strive, we jostle with the rest.
We learn new courage, stifle our old fears,
Stand with stiff backs, take part in every broil.
It may be that we love, that we are blest.
It may be, for a little space of years,
We conquer fate and half forget our tears.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Murder's Cloak of Mockery
With dysfunctional affairs of the insecure, they market elusive control.
Few see behind Murder's cloak and ridicule disrespect to maim the soul.
Thinking they're above the law, jesting for ill, their mockery to kill.
Shallow pits of 'unfaithful liars' are promoted with style and thrill.
Ablaze with insults- they ardently tear the soul, limiting Love's intake.
This insane humour insults parody for mockery's venom and Evil's sake.
Devoted to taunting they goad victims to murder, as they're reprieved.
Their constant drip-of-teasing is testing the game of control far eased.
Full of disdain, they boast blasphemy, as if they're better than the rest.
Noted fools 'think themselves wiser than 7-scribes' of Wisdom's zest.
'Abuse of power' sadly reflects a loveless society-, for All Christ bled.
Who can stand against belittling, especially at vulnerable times, to dread?
Hussein made mockery of weaponry inspections, defames, justify his plea.
Isn't beauty of sex, legal mystique, marred with contemptuous mockery?
The gifted 'played-down, ' exposed to mockery, for artificial things given.
Comparisons aren't of truth nor is it masterful for love within living.
Heaven lifts the Faithful to survive-, escaping the wicked buffoonery.
Surrender ALL for the Master's plan, when surrounded by evil scenery.
Adhere to sample of the wise, in multiples of counsel there's safety.
A wise idiom is: there's safety in numbers, for excellence of suavity.
Avoid disdain with relationships wronged, bury the hatchet, live on-.
Futile regrets saps future-Love; best to live singing a grateful song.
Trifle not with offences; pursue Peace and escape sudden catastrophe.
Life's business is to enjoy; you must know that all else is mockery.
Odd that murder is born-of-love, which attains its intensity in murder.
Then again, who can attain peace of understanding without God's order?
Few are wise to run from evil, even of kin, rather they turn to hate.
Mockery is rust corroding all, best to run from wicked jester's fate.
poem by ArmourQuill Hunter
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People slander somebody even if they do not despise him.
When the debate is over, slander becomes the tool of the loser.
Slander flings stones at itself.
English proverbs
Submitted by Micheleflowerbomb
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