I, therefore, O Caesar, do not publish this work, merely prefixing my name to a treatise which of right belongs to others, nor think of acquiring reputation by finding fault with the works of any one.
quote by Marcus V. Pollio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
But I, Caesar, have not sought to amass wealth by the practice of my art, having been rather contented with a small fortune and reputation, than desirous of abundance accompanied by a want of reputation.
quote by Marcus V. Pollio
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Send it to someone who can publish it. And if they won't publish it, send it to someone else who can publish it! And keep sending it! Of course, if no one will publish it, at that point you might want to think about doing something other than writing.
quote by Robert B. Parker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Caesar: Et tu, Brute? — Then fall, Caesar!
line from The Tragedy of Julius Caesar, Act III, Scene 1, script by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The Dark Belongs to the Feral Ones
A lone assistant, an all-night stand
Somebody's daughters and somebody's sons
Flash of a blade behind a door
The dark belongs to the feral ones
Mayhem & menace, muggings & fear
Somebody's daughters and somebody's sons
Drugs and litter and fights, and beer
The dark belongs to the feral ones
Boots that stamp on a victim's face
Somebody's daughters and somebody's sons
Is it the fault of blood, or place?
The dark belongs to the feral ones
Gym-slip bride in her council flat
Somebody's daughters and somebody 's sons
She's the local hoodies' welcome mat
The dark belongs to the feral ones
Speed and jellies and hash and smack
Somebody's daughters and somebody's sons
Dealers in playgrounds pushing crack
The dark belongs to the feral ones
Gangs, graffiti and poxed-up sex
Somebody's daughters and somebody's sons
Smash society..clear its decks
The dark belongs to the feral ones
poem by Sheena Blackhall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I publish my own music. I'm creating my own songbook. It works that way for me; I'm very independent.
quote by David Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dominatrix On The Axis
Work it on a brother, if it works, oh well, then work it on another; Do your snooky shakey shake, show it to your mother.
Dominatrix on the axis climbs the tower of praxis. Momma said daddy plays the lone bone. Work it on a sister, if it works out for her, then work it on her brother. Might want to
watch yourself or they'll work it on your mother.
If this sounds somethin like s-e-triple x,
sailing off without redemption on the good ship Oedipus.
Look beyond these shores, where you won't have to deal with petty, prudishness no more.
Beyond the sea, you could give it all away for a handling fee.
L'l sister could work it, little brother too. If it works pretty good,
Might work it on you, then work your moves on another. But, pretty please, don't ply your shake 'n' bake magic on my old world grandmother.
poem by Buddy Bee Anthony
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Michael Crichton
Michael Crichton would be dismayed
to read about his pirate days.
Poor Michael, there is worse in store.
They plan to publish at least one more.
When living, Michael published much
and proved to have the Midas touch.
No matter, Michael, that you’re gone
Your bibliography still goes on.
When Authors pay the boatman’s fee
Their fans crave more, quite naturally.
No Shakespeare lover could refuse
To give “Cardenio” rave reviews.
And when Jim Croce breathed no more
He “sang” on for a decade more.
But stuff that Authors didn’t publish
could prove to be unworthy rubbish.
(And some that sees the light of day
Might have been better hid away)
So if there’s work on your hard drive
You wouldn’t publish if alive
Dear Authors I do you entreat
When in extremis, press “delete”
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beginning of destruction
pride it’s all your fault
Pride it’s all your fault we in this mess
Pride it’s all your fault we are suffering
Pride it’s all your fault people are shedding blood
Pride it’s all your fault families are destroyed
Pride it’s all your fault people are so greedy and selfish
Pride it’s all your fault people have no love
Pride it’s all your fault are so jealous of each other
Pride it’s all your fault people are so lost
Pride it’s all your fault dying from this horrible diseases
Pride it’s all your fault we have so many orphans
Pride it’s all your fault people are betraying each other
Pride it’s all your fault are dying of hunger
Pride it’s all your fault fathers are sleeping with their children
Pride it’s all your fault people are so heartless
Pride it’s all your fault there is no peace, unity and harmony in this world
Pride it’s all your fault we have all this sorrow
Pride it’s all your fault God has rejected us
Pride it’s all your fault people are so evil
And they have decided to be in love with evil rather than good
You have ruined this world
You are to blame for all this misery
If lucifer did not have pride in his heart we wouldn’t be in this mess
Pride it all your fault! ! !
Vangile Mtyali
poem by Vangile Mtyali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nothing us but only in between us
In finding you
I find me, in looking for you
You look for me, so in finding you finding me,
We finally find out, there is nothing us but only
You and me finding you and me, there is really
No us, just some things between us, always finding
You and me finding you always finding two
Not one, nothing one, but always two, a separate
You finding me and me finding you in this search in futility
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Consequently the student who is devoid of talent will derive no more profit from this work than barren soil from a treatise on agriculture.
quote by Quintilian
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cassius: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
line from The Tragedy of Julius Caesar, Act I, Scene 2, script by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Lovingly Do The Work
Work is
Life...
Life is work...
Any work is not
Wrong...
Without work is
Worng...
Human every budy works
Wny way too work...s
Work is making you...
Work is given good life
For you...and your's...
So...
Understand too work
Earn money too work...
Live life with your work...
Love too work...
Learn to do the work...
Lovingely do the work...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In matters of truth the fact that you don't want to publish something is, nine times out of ten, a proof that you ought to publish it.
quote by Gilbert K. Chesterton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wise living consists perhaps less in acquiring good habits than in acquiring as few habits as possible.
quote by Eric Hoffer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ill Say Its My Fault
Roy orbison/fred foster
Too many quarrels so now we break up.
No theres no chance to ever make-up,
But when they ask me.
Ill say its my fault.
Ill taje all the blame.
Ill say I was wild,
When I should have been tame.
Ill say its my fault.
Ill give a good show.
Ill say Im a needle
That just wouldnt sew.
Evry one will be wondering,
All our friends will inquire.
Which one did the blundering,
Who put out the fire?
So, Ill say its my fault.
Ill say theres no doubt,
Then cry as I wonder,
Why it didnt work out.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song
It's not my fault!
It's not my fault!
that the seas are soiled
with offal and oil
It's not my fault!
It ain't my doin'!
It ain't my doin'!
that trees are stained
with acid rain-
It ain't my doin'!
I can't do nuthin'!
I can't do nuthin'
It's past the command
of any one man-
I can't do nuthin'!
I don't make the rules!
I don't make the rules!
Exxon does, dammit,
with help from the Senate-
I don't make the rules!
You can't walk to work!
You can't walk to work!
And there ain't no train
so who's to blame?
I can't walk to work!
poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Motor Car
The motor car is sullen, like a thing that should not be;
The motor car is master of Smart Society.
’Twas born of sweated genius and collared by a clown;
’Twas planned by Retribution to ride its riders down.
And straight for Caesar’s Column,
It runs to Caesar’s Column,
Last section, Caesar’s Column
To ride its riders down!
The motor car is shame-struck, for greed and misery,
For mad and hopeless self-lust, and the sins that need not be.
The motor car is vicious, for its conscience makes it so,
It aye would smash the victims while it runs the riders low.
And straight for Caesar’s Column,
Its goal is Caesar’s Column,
It longs for Caesar’s Column
To lay its riders low.
The motor car is maddened like a horse that’s had a fright,
The shameful day behind it and the Coming of the Night!
It flees across the country and it flees back to the town
And straight for Caesar’s Column to run its riders down.
And straight for Caesar’s Column,
What ho! for Caesar’s Column!
Hurrah! for Caesar’s Column!
To seal its riders down.
The motor car is reckless like a gambler losing fast;
The motor car’s in terror of the Future—and the Past;
The motor car is worn out and has passed Sin’s boundary by,
And is bound for Caesar’s Column where to pile its riders high.
It’s bound for Caesar’s Column
And marked for Caesar’s Column,
And doomed for Caesar’s Column
To pile its riders high.
The motor car is brainless, and scornful of all tears,
Its dust is in our faces, its giggle in our ears,
Its harsh laugh is the last laugh of the last lost soul alone,
’Tis nearing Caesar’s Column to set self-damned in stone.
Change here for Caesar’s Column!
All out for Caesar’s Column!
Past Hope—and Caesar’s Column
To lodge self-damned in stone.
I don’t know how ’twill happen, or when ’twill come to pass,
But folk shall yet pass sanely by river, tree and grass;
By homesteads and farm wagons, they’ll ride each pleasant mile,
And back from Caesar’s Column where the world went mad awhile.
And back from Caesar’s Column
With lessons from the Column;
Grown sane at Caesar’s Column
To save the world awhile.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Caesar
Pop/schermerhorn
People of america
I bring you a great army
To preserve peace
In our empire
Throw them to the lions
Darling, let us go to the banouet hall...
There will be a great feast tonight!
Who are these christians?
What is this strange religion?
I ve heard it said they turn the other cheek
Ha ha ha ha
Throw them to the lions
Throw them to the lions
Throw them to the lions
Thumbs down
10 pieces of gold for every man
Hail caesar hail caesar
Grapes from sicily
Silks from asia minor
All the tea in china
Throw them to the lions
Throw them to the lions
Throw them to the lions
Who are these christians?
Turn the other cheek...
Ha ha ha ha ha
Two thumbs down
The christians are restless
Why not let them worship their god?
No one believes in the old gods
How tiresome...attending the rituals
Paying lip service to the portents
Burning incense at their shrine
No one believes in the old gods
Throw them to the lions
Throw them to the lions
Throw them to the lions
Hahahahahaha
The roman empire the glory of rome
Hail all hail
Caesar...caesar...beware beware the ides of march
Who is this man?
Caesar...he is but a soothsayer...he is old
And his brain is addled... pay him no mind!
Throw him to the lions! ha ha ha ha ha ha
Hail caesar! emperor of rome hail caesar!
Caesar...caesar...beware the ides of march
Eh? ! who is this man?
Caesar...he is but an old soothsayer...addled in his brain
Pay him no mind
Throw him to the lions! ha ha ha ha
Throw him to the lions!
No one believes in the old gods...
The empire is tired...caesar will rest now.
We depart for my chambers
Come darling
Yes caesar
Caesar will rest now
Hail rome hail caesar hail
Put him in the fiery pit
Ha ha ha ha!
song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If You Need Advice
What is a goal?
How can we have something to which we do not even know the true definition?
Aspiration cannot be much without inspiraton
And inspiration cannot be done without another's persperation
What do we want to do and for whom do we want to do it?
Ourselves? Gays? Blacks? Women? Men? Children? God?
We want to be an inspiration
We want someone or something to look up to us and say:
'I want to be like you and make a true difference.'
It is not envy, nor jealousy, nor pity on another hand
It's work. Everything is work
There is fun work, dull work, but most importantly, hard work
Hard work is the house of our goal
Fun work is the decor
Dull work is the furniture
All is necesary to achieve complete happiness
Without decor, all we have is a house, not a home
Without furniture, we have nothing with which to have fun
Goals require more than just acquiring a plan
poem by Rebecca Roberts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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