I was now ordered to have my writings copied, and put into the printer's hand.
quote by Joanna Southcott
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The paintings are transferred from my computer to a disk, and I can hand it to the printer this way; or I can modem the painting to the printer over the phone lines from my house in Hawaii.
quote by Buffy Sainte-Marie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My father could have been deported because on his immigration application he said that he was a printer, obviously because he didn't want them to be checking his writings.
quote by Joe Eszterhas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Experience Is God
I asked, ‘What comes with birth? '
Born and see, God ordered!
I asked, ‘What is said to be education? '
Study and see God ordered!
I asked, ‘What is knowledge? '
Know and see God ordered!
I asked, ‘What is kindness? '
Be kind and shower, God ordered!
I asked, ‘What is love? '
Share with others, God ordered!
I asked, ‘What pleasure do you get from wife? '
Marry and experience, God ordered!
I asked, ‘Who is child to you? '
Get a child for you, God ordered!
I asked, ‘What is old age? '
Become old and observe God ordered!
I asked, ‘What is poverty? '
Toil and see God ordered!
I asked, ‘What happens after death? '
Die and see God ordered!
If anyone wants to know what is life,
And he has to experience and know,
Then why are you, GOD?
GOD said, ‘O' poor man,
The experience itself is ME!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eventually, if you had a printer that is IPP compliant, that printer will have a Web address and anyone around the world who can get on the Internet can print to that URL.
quote by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Writings On The Wall
The writings on the wall brother
Your life is in your hands
Its up to you to see the writings on the wall.
It looks you in the eye mister
Its time we stand up tall
Go see and understand the writings on the wall.
Strange we hold on to things that have no grace
Or power
While death holds on to us much more with every
Passing hour
And all the time you thought it would last
Your life, your friends would always be
til theyre drunk away or shot away or die away
From you.
Theres nothing that you need sister
The lord is in you all
Life is designed to see the writings on the wall.
The musics in the air mothers
You may have heard it call
To you that you may see the writings on the wall.
Be careful going home sister
Be watchful down that road
Youve got a lot of love sister
More to grow.
The writings on the wall brothers
Your life is in your hands
Its up to you to see the writings on the wall
I hope that you may see the writings on the wall.
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Literary Friend
Once I wrote a little poem which I thought was very fine,
And I showed the printer’s copy to a critic friend of mine,
First he praised the thing a little, then he found a little fault;
‘The ideas are good,’ he muttered, ‘but the rhythm seems to halt.’
So I straighten’d up the rhythm where he marked it with his pen,
And I copied it and showed it to my clever friend again.
‘You’ve improved the metre greatly, but the rhymes are bad,’ he said,
As he read it slowly, scratching surplus wisdom from his head.
So I worked as he suggested (I believe in taking time),
And I burnt the ‘midnight taper’ while I straightened up the rhyme.
‘It is better now,’ he muttered, ‘you go on and you’ll succeed,
‘It has got a ring about it—the ideas are what you need.’
So I worked for hours upon it (I go on when I commence),
And I kept in view the rhythm and the jingle and the sense,
And I copied it and took it to my solemn friend once more—
It reminded him of something he had somewhere read before.
Now the people say I’d never put such horrors into print
If I wasn’t too conceited to accept a friendly hint,
And my dearest friends are certain that I’d profit in the end
If I’d always show my copy to a literary friend.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Plain Cat
i do not have the mood
for tautologies
and dialectics
and metaphors
so a cat is just a
cat and the printer
is just another printer
and the bloody ink
is just the plain
bloody ink on those
literal floors
but i like your
idea of the cat calling
for a cat's nap ang
perhaps a little pat
on her back
cats too have
birthdays and
metaphors may
convert them
to wives and
concubines
cats and moons
struck and grinning.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Friday Is Limerick Day
There once lived a poet named George
near the Falls of Carnarvon Gorge.
He ran out of ideas
and to us it appears
that he secretly started to forge.
So he copied from Chaucer and Suess
which of course was a blatant abuse.
When he went to the printer
in the middle of winter
he'd manufactured his noose.
In the bookstore he sat, smugly signing,
many copies, the people were lining
all the streets from the park
until way after dark,
with the moon and the streetlights shining.
At the stroke of the midnight hour
from the clock of the old Limerick Tower
through the door wandered Suess
with an ancient recluse
and for George the whole world went sour.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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My Printer
My printer,
My picture,
My colour,
My muse;
Your printer,
Your picture,
Your colour,
Your muse;
Shared out with others to enhance my image!
But, this joy around me is all about your love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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I Will Not Stand Down
I will not stand down when my fellow man is in distress
I will not stand down when my fellow man I could bless
I will not stand down when my fellow man's life I could save
I will not stand down when I'm needed and not that brave
Their lives might have been saved, when ordered to stand down
They were attacked and shown no mercy; help was ordered to stand down
They asked many times and again but their back up was ordered to stand down
There were hero's that fought to the end, they didn't follow orders, and they didn't stand down
We lost hero's that night, and all because someone ordered Stand Down
I love America but so ashamed, someone at the top ordered that night Stand Down
poem by Donna Nimmo
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The Printer's Error
Fellow compositors
and pressworkers!
I, Chief Printer
Frank Steinman,
having worked fifty-
seven years at my trade,
and served five years
as president
of the Holliston
Printer's Council,
being of sound mind
though near death,
leave this testimonial
concerning the nature
of printers' errors.
First: I hold that all books
and all printed
matter have
errors, obvious or no,
and that these are their
most significant moments,
not to be tampered with
by the vanity and folly
of ignorant, academic
textual editors.
Second: I hold that there are
three types of errors, in ascending
order of importance:
One: chance errors
of the printer's trembling hand
not to be corrected incautiously
by foolish professors
and other such rabble
because trembling is part
of divine creation itself.
Two: silent, cool sabotage
by the printer,
the manual laborer
whose protests
have at times taken this
historical form,
covert interferences
not to be corrected
censoriously by the hand
of the second and far
more ignorant saboteur,
the textual editor.
Three: errors
from the touch of God,
divine and often
obscure corrections
of whole books by
nearly unnoticed changes
of single letters
sometimes meaningful but
about which the less said
by preemptive commentary
the better.
Third: I hold that all three
sorts of error,
errors by chance,
errors by workers' protest,
and errors by
God's touch,
are in practice the
same and indistinguishable.
Therefore I,
Frank Steinman,
typographer
for thirty-seven years,
and cooperative Master
of the Holliston Guild
eight years,
being of sound mind and body
though near death
urge the abolition
of all editorial work
whatsoever
and manumission
from all textual editing
to leave what was
as it was, and
as it became,
except insofar as editing
is itself an error, and
therefore also divine.
poem by Aaron Fogel
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What A Writer
what i liked about e.e. cummings
was that he cut away from
the holiness of the
word
and with charm
and gamble
gave us lines
that sliced through the
dung.
how it was needed!
how we were withering
away
in the old
tired
manner.
of course, then came all
the e.e. cummings
copyists.
they copied him then
as the others had
copied Keats, Shelly,
Swinburne, Byron, et
al.
but there was only
one
e.e. cummings.
of course.
one sun.
one moon.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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Nothing was a style first. Everything started as an idea. A guy did something with an idea. Someone copied him. Some copied all of them and it became trendy and then it became a style.
quote by Bill Laswell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sometime Love Is Metaphor...
Many times writings of love, are for the most
part, a metaphor for a dream. A love
that one has searched for all their life.
The writings is all one imagines them to be and
all the words one longs to say, to one
they have never known.
He ordered killings as easily as he ordered linguine.
quote by Kitty Kelley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ch 08 On Rules For Conduct In Life - Maxim 76
The first sovereign who laid stress on costume and wore rings on his left hand was Jamshid; and being asked why he had adorned his left whereas excellence resides in the right hand, he replied: ‘The right hand is fully ornamented by its own rectitude.’
Feridun ordered Chinese embroiderers
To write around the borders of his tent:
‘Keep the wicked well, O intelligent man,
Because the good are in themselves great and fortunate.’
Metaphor?
Many times writings of love, are for the most
part, a metaphor for a dream. A love
that one has searched for all their life.
The writings is all one imagines them to be and
all the words one longs to say, to one
they have never known.
©Joe Fazio
Menu of Life
I was at the dinner table with my little girl,
and I was perusing through the menu of life...
We ordered:
First course - Health !
Second course - Wisdom !
And as desert,
we ordered a double-double portion
of sheer Happiness!
poem by Viorel Vintila
Submitted by Viorel Vintila
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I feared that the enemy might have nearly surrounded the Little Round Top, and only a desperate chance was left for us. My ammunition was soon exhausted. My men were firing their last shot and getting ready to "club" their muskets. It was imperative to strike before we were struck by this overwhelming force in a hand-to-hand fight, which we could not probably have withstood or survived. At that crisis, I ordered the bayonet. The word was enough.
quote by Joshua Chamberlain
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Upon the Curtain of Lucasta's Picture, It was Thus Wrought
Oh, stay that covetous hand; first turn all eye,
All depth and minde; then mystically spye
Her soul's faire picture, her faire soul's, in all
So truely copied from th' originall,
That you will sweare her body by this law
Is but its shadow, as this, its;--now draw.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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