Put your hand in your conscience and see if it does not come out as black as pitch.
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Put your hand in your conscience and see if it don't come out as black as pitch.
My Other Hand...
the black man's hand,
the poor man's hand.
the Muslim hand, the Jewish hand...
the gay man's hand,
the working man's hand,
the ex-convict's hand,
the farmer's hand, the garbage man's hand...
the Christian's hand, the atheist's hand,
the father's hand, the soldier's hand,
the peacemaker's hand,
the healer's hand, the teacher's hand,
the prodigal's hand, even the murderer's hand...
the victim's hand, the broken hand,
the praying hand, the touching hand...
all, when extended,
feel like my other hand!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I don't have perfect pitch, but I have relative pitch. I'm glad I don't have perfect pitch because perfect pitch can drive you crazy.
quote by Billy Eckstine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A view from dumb Lucy's ghetto
Her tumbledown castle in pitch-black under a starry night.
And she looks at the hallucinogenic sky.
A capricious marriageable star that's burning red
Like her wounded heart.
She dreams that one day someone who comes like a meteor to take her hand and goes to the paradise?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Remember This Lack of Conscience - 'For Maya Angelou'.
When time goes past and dithers not
One sees the blame that gathers moss
To feel akin with woe as one
I'll forgive myself and you to soldier on
Remember this lack of conscience when we meet
I was violated, raped and beaten within to provide a treat
Remember this lack of conscience when I get out
To see through with vision all I espy
Remember this lack of conscience which will know no bounds
To hideously transform love profound
Remember this lack of conscience when I am free
You will lose and you know me
Remember this lack conscience less you forget
That freedom is precious and not a threat
Remember this lack of conscience when the bars are bent
I will slip out into the depths of crass to vent
Remember this lack of conscience to come
The Devil has a new spawn and drum
Remember this lack of conscience gathering
To prove nothing but give a battering
Remember this lack of conscience wild
It has no remorse just like a child
Remember this lack of conscience like the Hawk
Which draws blood, looks on and gawks
Remember this lack of conscience with the Demon within
It's a Golem to clear the the Evil and get even
Remember this lack of conscience when you renege
The death of love can be ones grave
Remember this lack of conscience and tremor not
No fruit you bear or shall ever to care
Remember this lack of conscience that prevails
The trial is over and you have failed
Remember this lack of conscience and grow
To a woman that a man can know
Remember this lack of conscience that forgave
and now with Love sends you away
For Maya Angelou - ' Remember This Lack of Conscience'.
poem by Azriel Dreams
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Speechless Princess and a hitch-hiker
Hey! My strong ebony
Though you are black,
In the pitch darkness
I can see your beauty.
When you smile
It’s like a crescent moon
In this haunted sky.
Does your big headed father will allow me to take your hand?
If you are willing to live in my hermitage
Then I can forward all my credentials.
Though we speak a different tongue
Hope it’s not an obstacle for our love?
Oh! It’s very tiresome effort
And your silence is an annoy to me.
My beloved black tulip
Could you please answer me?
“Am I ugly? ”
The soil is not tasty my dear
But the tree of love grows there
And bloom fragrant flowers
Which produce sweet fruits?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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(Indifference Poem) Blood Stain On My Conscience
Your nothing but a but blood stain on my conscience.
Get angry
and send your messenger.
A non existent threat.
How much you want to bet.
Your still a cheating fool
still a cheating fool.
Your nothing but a blood stain on my conscience.
I still remember the way back when.
How could I ever forget.
I took you in as my own blood.
You were a mere child.
Now you claim to be a man.
Yet you do not take a stand.
How is it
that you create so much hate.
Ripping
and tearing at every ones insides.
Twisting
and manipulating.
Your nothing but a blood stain on my conscience.
Walk in my shadow
because I'm already gone.
What is done
is done.
War of words.
Sounds quite absurd.
But let me tell you they can hurt.
They can destroy.
Good or bad
doesn't matter in my world.
Again I'm on the edge
looking into pure blackness.
Jump with foolishness.
Sorry but I won't.
Your nothing but a blood stain on my conscience.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Apprehensive lovers…
One wore the trousers
And went about singing,
Fearful of leaving…
Without; first drinking…
One wore black hose
Miniskirts, barefooted:
Without; thinking or caring…
When out dancing and twirling…
Together they’d kiss or pitch battle
Pitch battle or again fall in love
They were like wings on either shoulder
There were times when I couldn’t fly…
Without one, and surely, without the other…
But; together we were like sisters
And brothers…
Together—we were happy village muckers.
Though they had all the difficulties
Of being; apprehensive lovers…
poem by Mark Heathcote
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The number of strokes to the inch controls the pitch of the note: the more, the higher the pitch; the fewer, the lower the pitch, the size of the stroke controls the loudness... the tone quality is the most difficult element to control, it is made by the shape of the strokes.
quote by Norman McLaren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Aura
The air was dark
The moon was dark
The night was dark
The cloud was dark
The heat was dark
The stars were black
The birds were black
The eyes were black
The shadows were black
The planes were black
A sound of night
The hearts of night
A chase at night
A fall at night
No help at night
The night is night
Where is my sight
I have no sight
Your light was sight
No light no sight
No one in sight
The dark in sight
Don't call my name
What's my name
They call my name
That's not my name
Who said its my name
I have no name
You took my same
It was our same
She was our same
She's now your same
Its all the same
I'm not the same
Judas and my hand
You took my hand
'I do' my hand
You kissed my hand
You broke my hand
You fell my hand
A tear in sand
A heart in sand
A body in sand
Alone in sand
A dust in sand
At home in sand.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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Things are always darkest just before they go pitch black.
quote by Kelly Robinson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A sore arm is like a headache or a toothache. It can make you feel bad, but if you just forget about it and do what you have to do, it will go away. If you really like to pitch and you want to pitch, that's what you'll do.
quote by Warren Spahn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why shouldn't we pitch to Babe Ruth? We pitch to better hitters in the National League.
quote by John McGraw
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A woman would pitch a joke. Nothing. Then a guy would pitch it and everybody would laugh.
quote by Wanda Sykes
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You can actually have a pitch button, you know, to get people on pitch.
quote by Helena Bonham Carter
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Learn what pitch you can hit good; then wait for that pitch.
quote by Willie Keeler
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Yeah I think Pitch Black was edgy, I think that's what worked for our film.
quote by Radha Mitchell
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Conscience And Remorse
'GOOD-BYE,' I said to my conscience —
'Good-bye for aye and aye,'
And I put her hands off harshly,
And turned my face away;
And conscience smitten sorely
Returned not from that day.
But a time came when my spirit
Grew weary of its pace;
And I cried: 'Come back, my conscience;
I long to see thy face.'
But conscience cried: 'I cannot;
Remorse sits in my place.'
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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You had to pitch in and out. The zone didn't belong to the hitters; it belonged to the pitchers. Today, if you pitch too far inside, the umpire would stop you right there. I don't think it's fair.
quote by Juan Marichal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Certain Man
A certain man wishes to be a prince
Of this earth; he also wants to be
A saint and master of the being-world.
Conscience cannot exist in the first:
The second cannot exist without conscience.
Therefore he, who has enough conscience
To be disturbed but not enough to be
Compelled, can neither reject the one
Nor follow the other...
poem by Jean Toomer
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