The innkeeper trusts his guests like he is himself.
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In long experience I find that a man who trusts nobody is apt to be the kind of man nobody trusts.
quote by Harold MacMillan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A man who trusts nobody is apt to be the kind of man nobody trusts.
quote by Harold MacMillan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The innkeeper loves the drunkard, but not for a son-in-law.
The innkeeper loves a drunkard, but not for a son-in-law.
The Maundy Thursday
In a feast the host must receive the guests
With humility. Else he is the beast
That relegates his guests as mere beggars.
Jesus washed guests' feet on Maundy Thursday.[before the feast]
25.03.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Do not buy a carrier's ass, or marry an innkeeper's daughter.
Just to 'Hang' In There
We've all seen them rush,
To meet and greet new guests.
With impressions made.
And in fresh dress...
To do their best,
To be the ones addressed.
We've all seen them rush,
To meet and greet new guests.
Especially the ones who profess,
To be those righteous.
But disguising their true selves,
As pests who love to gossip.
We've all seen them rush,
To meet and greet new guests.
To get those same guests...
To get upset and leave.
And the actions of those responsible,
Seem as natural as the scenery.
If one is not in constant movement.
And movement is a required necessity.
For anyone who stays around.
And not just to 'hang' in there!
For the purpose to keep this reviewed,
With the same complaints to report...
On a daily basis.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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An Extempore Invitation To The Earl Of Oxford, Lord High Treasurer
My Lord,
Our weekly friends to-morrow meet
At Matthew's palace in Duke-street,
To try for once if they can dine
On bacon-ham and mutton-chine.
If, wearied with the great affairs
Which Britain trusts to Harley's cares,
Thou, humble statesman, may'st descend
Thy mind one moment to unbend,
To see thy servant from his soul
Crown with thy health the sprightly bowl,
Among the guests, which e'er my house
Received it never can produce
Of honour a more glorious proof -
Though Dorset used to bless the roof.
poem by Matthew Prior
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Hidden Sin
O God, You know my foolishness
And my sins are not hidden from You!
The Sun of Righteousness shall arise
To help me to transform and renew.
Our Lord is good and knows who trusts Him
He wants us to be glad and rejoice in our giving.
My Soul trusts the shadow of His wings
As my refuge remains His forgiving.
God's commandments aren't that hard or burdensome
And they deliver us from Satin's claws.
His merciful love is greatest toward us
As we triumph by Divine principles and laws.
The Guests
One by one, the guests arrive
The guests are coming through
The open-hearted many
The broken-hearted few
And no one knows where the night is going
And no one knows why the wine is flowing
Oh love I need you
I need you
I need you
I need you
Oh . . . I need you now
And those who dance, begin to dance
Those who weep begin
And welcome, welcome cries a voice
Let all my guests come in.
And no one knows where the night is going ...
And all go stumbling through that house
In lonely secrecy
Saying do reveal yourself
Or why has thou forsaken me?
And no one knows where the night is going ...
All at once the torches flare
The inner door flies open
One by one they enter there
In every style of passion
And no one knows where the night is going ...
And here they take their sweet repast
While house and grounds dissolve
And one by one the guests are cast
Beyond the garden wall
And no one knows where the night is going ...
Those who dance, begin to dance
Those who weep begin
Those who earnestly are lost
Are lost and lost again
And no one knows where the night is going ...
One by the guests arrive
The guests are coming through
The broken-hearted many
The open-hearted few
And no one knows where the night is going ...
song performed by by Leonard Cohen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Honesty and Truth
Through the windows of my soul I see
Divisibility of Truth
Two Entities that dwell within
Each A partnered substitute
The Heart is ruled by Emotive Truth and
Trusts. In Honesty
But The Mind Accepts. Whats only Fact
And Trusts. Logically
Though I believe. What I Believe
With All I am Inside
But My Honest Truth lives in My Heart
The Veritable Truth. In My Mind!
poem by Jodie Mayhew
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Bite The Hand That Bleeds
I watch you tap for blood in my veins
My heart you feed on to keep you sustained
A parasite that leaves me cold and drained
I'm in shock, and you leave me paralyzed
And the saddest part I realize
The absence of truth behind your eyes
I feel you tapping my soul from my vein!
I feel you tapping again on my vein!
I feel my life slipping away!
One more drop of blood I spill
One more drop you take
One more drop and I will spite
And bite the hand that bleeds
I see you have two faces turning
Changing face to keep me guessing
You have mastered the art of deceiving
Now I know no one trusts you
And to think, not even you do
And I know you salted my wounds
Now I know no one trusts you!
Now I know no one trusts you!
Now I know you salted my wounds!
One more drop of blood I spill
Noe more drop you take
One more drop and I will spite
And bite the hand that bleeds
Bite the hand that bleeds you ...
song performed by by Fear Factory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Non-Resistance
PERHAPS too far in these considerate days
Has patience carried her submissive ways;
Wisdom has taught us to be calm and meek,
To take one blow, and turn the other cheek;
It is not written what a man shall do,
If the rude caitiff smite the other too!
Land of our fathers, in thine hour of need
God help thee, guarded by the passive creed!
As the lone pilgrim trusts to beads and cowl,
When through the forest rings the gray wolf's howl;
As the deep galleon trusts her gilded prow
When the black corsair slants athwart her bow;
As the poor pheasant, with his peaceful mien,
Trusts to his feathers, shining golden-green,
When the dark plumage with the crimson beak
Has rustled shadowy from its splintered peak,--
So trust thy friends, whose babbling tongues would charm
The lifted sabre from thy foeman's arm,
Thy torches ready for the answering peal
From bellowing fort and thunder-freighted keel!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Unwanted Guests
A mansion is built.
And unwanted guests,
Are reported to reside inside.
And there are those who claim,
This was not known.
Even though the unwanted guests,
Entertained, prepared the meals...
As well as took suggestions as to what to serve,
For choices of dessert.
And...
Tucked them all in bed at night!
To then leave,
On their own...
To wander freely around the mansion!
And yet,
It has been declared...
The guests who wandered freely around the mansion,
Were unwanted.
AND...
No one will admit,
They knew a mansion existed.
Nor have a clue who built it,
Or 'how' it got there.
I live on a fixed income.
And my every move is watched.
Even my approach to await a coming bus,
At a public bustop...
Is monitored as suspicious.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Maya, the illusion
Look back at your wedding.
Note down the guests.
Look back at your son’s.
Note down the guests.
Compare the lists
To know what illusion
The kith and ken are
No bond could ever exist,
some already extinct.
Now you know what Maya is.
04.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The latest lesson of my grandson
Four year old
Daughter's son
Just started talking
In some kind of comprehension
Returned from school
The other day
And there were some guests at home
Some of who were to
See our grandson first time
And it was my daughter's role
To introduce each
Of the guests
To her son
She is your aunty
Say 'Hi' to her
Which my grandson did
He is your 'Anna'
(Anna in Tamil means elder brother, it can be cousin too)
Say 'Hi' to him
Which my grandson did
This your grandma
Say 'Hi' to her
Which my grandson did
This went on
Till the time
All the guests were introduced
It is our practice
To give the child
A handwash immediately after
His retrun back home from school
And I took that charge
While I was helping him
In getting a wash
The fellow asked me
In a low voice like whisper
Are there no good person
Among our guests
Startled I asked him why
And he replied
Just today
School miss said
That all of us should
Grow to become a good person
Mom said these people are
Either grandpas, grandmas,
Uncles, Aunties, Annas or Akkas
But she said none
To be a good person
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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I Do No Tours
Where
Do you get all of this 'stuff' from?
'From the attic'
From the attic?
But
I don't see any attic
'And you wont
I am the only one that has the key
And in my 'home'
I do no tours
I do guests
And no tours do those guests get.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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