No one who has read official documents needs to be told how easy it is to conceal the essential truth under the apparently candid and all- disclosing phrases of a voluminous and particularizing report....
Woodrow Wilson in Congressional Government
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Big Present
A thick present is like a book,
It is opened for the look
And wades in for the kill,
Plenty of crime is in being ill.
The voluminous writers of poetry
Are again in love with learning labouriously.
They read them with phrases hurting,
Inside is pleasure of burning
On the right side of humanity,
But what of you and charity?
poem by Naveed Akram
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You Want Me To Simplify My Life..to Be
to be just
simple and say clearly what i what you to understand
less words perhaps
no signs no picture even
just a glance or a touch or a tap on the shoulder
to be direct, candid, straighforward
to tell the truth, this truth and nothing but the truth
no words
how can i tell you? how can i give you the signs
how can i be direct and candid and straightforward
how can i ever tell the truth
when all these years i do not know anymore
about anything
when what i know is only to survive
at all costs
do you think that i still have the truth or the courage to tell you
about it
the truth? do you really need the truth inorder to live?
tell me, why and what?
learn first and teach me how
let us perhaps begin again from the time when we were born
from the time when we first give them our
big cry.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Easy Read
So you think you know me
The mystery of my mind
The reason I confess so hesitantly
The equation of my kind
And you think you know this
After one late night conversation
Apparently my insistance is easy to dimiss
You've discovered this after little contemplation
You breeze through my pages
Since I'm such an easy read
You check me out and return me with easy exchanges
As if I'm some useless need
You like the fact I'm rather see-through
My vunerability seems to make you feel in control
But you're blind to my distain for you
A plot in which you'll never have a role
poem by Aria Siren
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Heartache
He was easy to read, my man.
I knew he could never fool me.
He was easy to read, my man.
So why was it hard to see
that he had two sides
and I knew only one?
Where were my eyes
when he started to run?
He was easy to forgive, my man
for he told me that he loved me.
He was easy to forgive, my man
for he got down on his knees
and I saw the side
that I wanted to see.
I closed my eyes to the other.
For I knew he was made for me.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The reports of the eclipse parties not only described the scientific observations in great detail, but also the travels and experiences, and were sometimes marked by a piquancy not common in official documents.
quote by Simon Newcomb
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Way I Feel
Written by christine mcvie.
Once in everyones life
You know a feeling has to grow
And you may be having a bad time
And you really shouldnt let it show
Youre taking a risk, but it doesnt matter
cos you know, you know that its real
I cant conceal the way that I feel
I cant conceal the way, the way that I feel
How many times have I told you
Oh, I adore you
And if it meant anything at all
Id do anything for you
But its too late and I know Im making
A fool, a fool of myself
But I cant conceal the way that I feel
I cant conceal the way, the way that I feel
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sticky Wikit
More Wiki documents are leaked
Candid n’ damning communiqués
Obama and Staff are really freaked
Begin a search to find who squeaked
ROTMS
http: //www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/11/29/wikileaks-upd ate-us-tries_n_789031.html? igoogle=1
poem by Ray Lucero
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Thrown to Hit
The truth has frightened.
None knew it would be like this.
They believed truth could be dismissed.
Like a white lie told from lips.
But truth is unresisting.
It hits like a ton of bricks.
And could care less,
Who denies its existence.
And those living without it...
Now find their lives in a mess.
The hour of truth has arrived.
And recognizing it,
Catches many by surprise.
Why?
Because so many believed,
It was something they could create.
Like a lie told that is given life.
But there is nothing artificial about truth.
It will always remain solid like a rock.
And when it is thrown to hit...
It hurts!
Getting over it...
Is not as easy as getting up off the ground!
Once it lands,
Truth has a tendency to stay around.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Candid, Frank
Frank made love to Candid
last night
Candid groaned and
Frank could not help
but explode
and say afterward ' i love you'
candid to please Frank
says ' i need you'
Candid had an orgasm
on Subtle
Frank knew, but his love
always Understands.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The house she refers to
She first told me of this house when I was a child
She wrote it in her documents and filed
A house so wild
Where the people are very cold
A house like a wrestling hold
Everyone scrambling for gold
There are murmurs and calls for hate
Which spreads amongst the offspring they procreate
To go and lie in wait
Until they receive orders to fire
At anyone who aims higher
So that they get what they require
She documents a house of takers
Wanting to acquire acres
Which they are not the makers
She documents a house of doom
Where deception is a costume
And aversion is spread from a control room
She documents a house of pain
Where there is nothing to gain
And says to me again and again
Beware and tread with care
For there are fumes of hate in the air
This she makes me aware
She tells me of this house each day
So I would not be lead astray
What then can I say
Before the bee stings
I would pray for certain things
One is for God to carry me on a pair of wings
To fly me on a fast pace
To a new place
Where He would put a smile on my face
A place of joy and peace
poem by Mark Nyamekye Boadi
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I will write a poem that will say the truth
This poem I will write and it will tell the truth
The candid truth, the whole candid truth and nothing
But the miserable truth
And this will hurt you and all of you who consider me a friend
The words are carefully chosen and the
Lines screened with so much introspection
This poem will tell you who you really are
No holds bar, no second thoughts
No consideration at all that you may hate me
I, who want, always to be loved and be popular
I am tired of lying and telling what is not in my mind,
I will now write the truth about you and the whole world,
This poem will hurt you and this world
And the whole world will be angry about me writing this poem,
This poem will bring you into harsh awakenings
And this will surely shake you and hurt you and you will never
Talk to me again and you will wish me ill and you will curse the day that I was born.
This poem will make you hate me forever but for one thing
I still have no courage to show it to you, perhaps later when I am
All ready to be despised, hated and finally discarded from your minds.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Report
What is report?
Report is established,
Not demanded.
Seduction to manipulate
Premeditated moves
Will not sit well with someone else
You wish to impress
With what you offer that's approved.
One seeking report
Leaves these aggressions at the door.
If not one will find rejection...
Without another reception.
And having report,
Is what one should never first ignore!
'You mean 'ree'pour? '
Report is like giving a grade.'
And 'ree'pour is like giving what?
'Having class! '
Well,
What do you get in a 'class'?
'A report! '
Let's see...
If you report to class with 'ree'pour',
You'll get a good grade!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Faces
I cant read faces but i can read yours;
I know it when youre sad or happy,
not through your smile but through your eyes;
and the lines of your forehead,
and the lines of your cheeks...
they tell your secrets and then mystery unfolds.
The beauty of your chin...and the lines of your lips,
they tell me of something that hasn't been told.
Sometimes you laugh, but you're empty inside...
sometimes you frown, but your heart glowed with pride.
Sometimes serious, but your face
has something to hide.
I know coz your eyes tell me everything,
everything within your soul.
You have so many faces...
and i wonder if the world knows.
I wonder if they can read them,
or see what you conceal..
I wonder if they can see your mysteries...
secrets to steal.
And i wonder if they can look into
your eyes like open doors.
I know i cant read faces...
but i can read yours.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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What We Did In That Place Which Can Never Be A Home
after love
we soften a bit
i do not smoke
and you do not read
you stand up
to dress yourself
i stay for a while....
soon the room will
be so silent
i can hear the wind
slipping by the window
i will listen
i will give more time
for silence to
whisper
its sound
to me
in a while,
i will stand up
and start to cover
my nudity
it is a metaphor
for an icing on the cake
to conceal
an emptiness
a bitterness
of what i have not
done when
i was young then
when i was so alive
and candid
then i talk to myself:
this is not my house
i cannot call it a home
and so
i must leave to search
who i am
again
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You Don't Read Africa
Never have you ever sat
Or beneath African Suns lay flat
You insist on rumours fat
Liken to a rainy day's door mat
To judge where you haven't testified
And judge what ain't justified
You don't read Africa
You heard it is Hell's replica
With an oasis of virtual bliss
Where on semi-humans and snakes hiss
You watched him report
On a continent he hasn't rapport!
Why do you believe:
That which you perceive?
As Gospel-truth lies you receive?
Those that only your mind deceive?
Making you think 'Africa' is synonym to 'grieve'?
You don't read Africa
You only read about Africa
The cradle of mankind
You believe is to mankind unkind
You help in protests
Against nothing on your list of detests
You call it charity when you commission inquests!
Can a reader read a book here
When he is only there
There where he doesn't know where,
Where he feels and thinks is nowhere?
Read Africa from your heart
Not just when Africans hurt
You cannot read Africa miles apart
You read of Africa
You read about Africa
You read about Africa
You have read about Africa
You Don't Read Africa
poem by David Munene wa Kimberly
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I am shocked by the easy attitude of many in the media towards disclosing our Nation's secrets.
quote by Todd Tiahrt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It was determined, as shown in the report of the Commission, which I can read to you, but I know you are familiar with the report. It states there was disagreement on this issue, particularly as the subject was debated, that there were different opinions about it.
quote by John Sherman Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tell us The Truth
Tell us the truth
Tell us the truth
They said.
So he told them
The Truth,
Untainted
Undiluted
Straight
Direct
That's not the truth
It hurts,
They said.
Tell us the 'real' truth,
The Truth!
So he repeated it.
Again, the unadulterated
Spotless,
Plain truth.
You do not like us, do you, they said.
We're asking you
For the 'proper' truth,
The 'Real Truth',
Not
This hurtful rubbish
Tell us that truth
Tell us that truth.
So, weary,
And now wary,
He told it to them
Once more.
He did not change his story,
He told them
What he had always believed in,
He told them
That no matter how unpleasant
It sounded,
His feelings for them
Remained the same
He gave it to them
Once more,
Direct,
Undiluted,
Impartially,
But passionately nevertheless.
The Truth.
Go away, go away
They said.
You do not understand us
You do not like us.
Go away.
So goes the story
Of how they lost
The best leader
They could ever have had,
The only one
Who really understood them,
The only one
Who wanted nothing
But the best
'For Them',
The only one
Who never shied away
From The Truth
The only one
Who loved them as they were.
(Year 2002, Mars, The Sun Galaxy)
poem by District 13 Okiso Sooki
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The Path of a Gambler
A man sought coin in a voluminous fashion,
a few more pounds to add to his loot,
used to help satisfy a prodigal passion.
A father has lost his son to a single action;
when he craved to add to the tempting fruit,
a man sought coin in a voluminous fashion.
His gambler's heart soon became a beacon;
racing, waiting for a spotter's toot,
used to help satisfy a prodigal passion.
This one risk is only but a fraction
of the goal which he was to pursuit.
a man sought coin in a voluminous fashion.
When his hands started to feel the burden,
one that he had been too blind to compute,
used to help satisfy a prodigal passion.
When his bets were lost, he heard a beckon,
he sought to close the the tribute.
A man sought coin in a voluminous fashion,
used to help satisfy a prodigal passion.
poem by Michael Roysdon
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Think About It
I reflect on years past.
Knowing I did try.
I did my best.
I made my mistakes.
And learned from them.
I tried to right the wrongs of my past.
I tried to become the best person I could be.
Not for me though.
For someone I love.
You look as if I said something wrong.
Why is that?
You're a Christian?
I should put myself first?
Where does it say that in the bible?
Oh, mine must be missing that chapter.
I know,
It's called the book of You.
I don't know where it fits in exactly.
But I'm sure You do.
You know everything.
Self before others.
Make God right with Yourself.
Serve others, if the money is good enough.
So if I ask You what the meaning of life is,
You can tell me?
I Love Your Christian talk.
I Love Your Christian walk.
Or should I say strut.
You read the bible?
Well I read you, like a book.
You are about as transparent as a window.
I see through you completely.
Can you see me through your window?
Oh wait.
You are looking into a mirror.
What is the truth?
Your truth, my truth or His truth?
Is God's love tough love?
Or is it us that makes it tough?
My bible is in black and white.
You must have the gray version.
Take the easy way out.
You are only hurting yourself.
Turn the other cheek.
Did Jesus climb off the cross when it hurt too much?
Would You have told him too?
Would You say it's not worth it to him?
Or are You glad He said, “It is done.”?
Think about it!
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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