Damætas
In law an infant, and in years a boy,
In mind a slave to every vicious joy;
From every sense of shame and virtue wean'd;
In lies an adept, in deceit a fiend;
Versed in hypocrisy, while yet a child;
Fickle as wind, of inclinations wild;
Women his dupe, his heedless friend a tool;
Old in the world, though scarcely broke from school;
Damætas ran through all the maze of sin,
And found the goal when others just begin:
Even still conflicting passions shake his soul,
And bid him drain the dregs of pleasure's bowl;
But, pall'd with vice, he breaks his former chain,
And what was once his bliss appears his bane.
Related quotes
Damaetas
In law an infant, and in years a boy,
In mind a slave to every vicious joy;
From every sense of shame and virtue wean’d;
In lies an adept, in deceit a fiend;
Versed in hypocrisy, while yet a child;
Fickle as wind, of inclinations wild;
Women his dupe, his heedless friend a tool;
Old in the world, though scarcely broke from school;
Damætas ran through all the maze of sin,
And found the goal when others just begin:
Even still conflicting passions shake his soul,
And bid him drain the dregs of pleasure’s bowl;
But, pall’d with vice, he breaks his former chain,
And what was once his bliss appears his bane.
poem by Byron (1807)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Don't Drink
Don't drink, boys, don't!
There is nothing of happiness, pleasure, or cheer,
In brandy, in whiskey, in rum, ale, or beer.
If they cheer you when drunk, you are certain to pay
In headaches and crossness the following day.
Don't drink, boys, don't!
Boys, let it alone!
Turn your back on your deadliest enemy-Drink!
An assassin disguised; nor for one moment think,
As some rashly say, that
true
women admire
The man who can boast that he's playing with fire.
Boys, let it alone!
No, boys, don't drink!
If the habit's begun, stop now! stop to-day!
Ere the spirit of thirst leads you on and away
Into vice, shame, and drunkenness. This is the goal,
Where the spirit of thirst leads the slave of the bowl.
No, boys,
don't
drink!
Boys, touch not, nor taste!
Don't think you can stop at the social 'First Glass.'
Too many have boasted that power, alas!
And found they were slaves to this seeming good friend,
And have grown into drunkards and knaves, in the end.
Boys, touch not, nor taste!
Don't drink, boys,
Don't
!
If the loafers and idlers scoff, never heed:
True men and true women will wish you 'God-speed.'
There is nothing of purity, pleasure, or cheer
To be gotten from whiskey, wine, brandy, or beer.
Don't drink, boys,
Don't
!
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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I Would I Were a Careless Child
I would I were a careless child,
Still dwelling in my Highland cave,
Or roaming through the dusky wild,
Or bounding o’er the dark blue wave;
The cumbrous pomp of Saxon pride
Accords not with the freeborn soul,
Which loves the mountain’s craggy side,
And seeks the rocks where billows roll.
Fortune! Take back these cultured lands,
Take back this name of splendid sound!
I hate the touch of servile hands,
I hate the slaves that cringe around.
Place me among the rocks I love,
Which sound to Ocean’s wildest roar;
I ask but this--again to rove
Through scenes my youth hath known before.
Few are my years, and yet I feel
The world was ne’er design’d for me:
Ah! why do dark’ning shades conceal
The hour when man must cease to be?
A visionary scene of bliss:
Truth--wherefore did thy hated beam
Awake me to a world like this?
I loved--but those I loved are gone;
Had friends--my early friends are fled:
How cheerless feels the heart alone,
When all its former hopes are dead!
Though gay companions o’er the bowl
Dispel awhile the sense of ill;
Though pleasure stirs the maddening soul,
The heart--the heart--is lonely still.
How dull! to hear the voice of those
Whom rank of chance, whom wealth or power,
Have made, though neither friends nor foes,
Associates of the festive hour.
Give me again a faithful few,
In years and feelings still the same,
And I will fly the midnight crew,
Where boist’rous Joy is but a name.
And woman, lovely woman! thou,
My hope, my comforter, my all!
How cold must be my bosom now,
When e’en thy smiles begin to pall!
Without a sigh would I resign
This busy scene of splendid woe,
To make that calm contentment mine,
Which virtue knows, or seems to know.
Fain would I fly the haunts of men-–
I seek to shun, not hate mankind;
My breast requires the sullen glen,
Whose gloom may suit a darken’d mind.
Oh! that to me the wings were given,
Which bear the turtle to her nest!
Then would I cleave the vault of Heaven,
To flee away, and be at rest.
poem by Byron (1807)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Not A Child
'Not a child: I call myself a boy,'
Says my king, with accent stern yet mild,
Now nine years have brought him change of joy;
'Not a child.'
How could reason be so far beguiled,
Err so far from sense's safe employ,
Stray so wide of truth, or run so wild?
Seeing his face bent over book or toy,
Child I called him, smiling: but he smiled
Back, as one too high for vain annoy -
Not a child.
II.
Not a child? alack the year!
What should ail an undefiled
Heart, that he would fain appear
Not a child?
Men, with years and memories piled
Each on other, far and near,
Fain again would so be styled:
Fain would cast off hope and fear,
Rest, forget, be reconciled:
Why would you so fain be, dear,
Not a child?
III.
Child or boy, my darling, which you will,
Still your praise finds heart and song employ,
Heart and song both yearning toward you still,
Child or boy.
All joys else might sooner pall or cloy
Love than this which inly takes its fill,
Dear, of sight of your more perfect joy.
Nay, be aught you please, let all fulfil
All your pleasure; be your world your toy:
Mild or wild we love you, loud or still,
Child or boy.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Man's Civil War
MY hovering thoughts would fly to heaven
And quiet nestle in the sky,
Fain would my ship in Virtue's shore
Without remove at anchor lie.
But mounting thoughts are haled down
With heavy poise of mortal load,
And blustring storms deny my ship
In Virtue's haven secure abode.
When inward eye to heavenly sights
Doth draw my longing heart's desire,
The world with jesses of delights
Would to her perch my thoughts retire,
Fon Fancy trains to Pleasure's lure,
Though Reason stiffly do repine;
Though Wisdom woo me to the saint,
Yet Sense would win me to the shrine.
Where Reason loathes, there Fancy loves,
And overrules the captive will;
Foes senses are to Virtue's lore,
They draw the wit their wish to fill.
Need craves consent of soul to sense,
Yet divers bents breed civil fray ;
Hard hap where halves must disagree,
Or truce halves the whole betray !
O cruel fight ! where fighting friend
With love doth kill a favoring foe,
Where peace with sense is war with God,
And self-delight the seed of woe !
Dame Pleasure's drugs are steeped in sin,
Their sugared taste doth breed annoy ;
O fickle sense ! beware her gin,
Sell not thy soul to brittle joy !
poem by Robert Southwell
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Just as treasures are uncovered from the earth, so virtue appears from good deeds, and wisdom appears from a pure and peaceful mind. To walk safely through the maze of human life, one needs the light of wisdom and the guidance of virtue.
Chain Of Fools (feat. Pointer Sisters)
Clint Black & The Pointer Sisters
Chain chain chains (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chains (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain
Chain of fools
For four long years
I thought you were my man
But I found out
I'm just a link in your chain.
You got me where you want me
I ain't nothin but your fool
You treated me mean
Oh, you treated me cruel.
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain of fools
Every chain
Has got a weak link
I might be weak child
Oh, but I'll give you strength.
OOh. OOh.
You told me to leave you alone
My mother said, come on home
My doctor said, take it easy
But your lovin' is much too strong
I'm added to your.
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain
Chain of fools.
--- Instrumental ---
One of these mornings
That chain is gonna break
But up until then
I'm goin'a take all I can take, oh yeah.
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain
Chain of fools.
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain (Chain chain chains)
Chain chain chain
Chain of fools, oh yeah...
--- Instrumental with oops till fade ---
song performed by by Clint Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Playing With Technology
What happens when a child plays with a razor?
What happens when a child plays with fire?
What happens when a child drives a car?
Man in his pursuit of technology is in the same pose
In his hand is a tool of technology, powerful and dangerous
But he’s acting like a child and doesn’t know its purpose.
Man’s still a child, no sense of purpose, no vision of the future
For a child the razor, the fire and the car are just for pleasure
It is obvious, for this same reason man pursues technology.
Man’s still a child, so selfish, self-centered and irresponsible
Doesn’t care about the world, his possessions is all that matters
But his mind, his most precious one, is neglected and in tatters
We’re like a child mesmerized by technology, by its power
Creating for us so much stuff, we feel much richer
But we’ve forgotten our world is delicate, our life fragile.
We’re like a child mesmerized by technology, so tempting
So much pleasure, so much convenience to us it’s giving
But we’ve forgotten our goal in this hostile universe is survival.
We’re like a child mesmerized by technology, so exciting
Faster and faster now we are driving it, not hesitating
It’s just a matter of time, it will crash! It will crash!
Now, we can see the destruction on the horizon looming
It’s been scientifically determined our planet is warming
Because, technology, that’s meant to save us, we abused it!
poem by Leonard Sims
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Ode V: On Love Of Praise
I.
Of all the springs within the mind
Which prompt her steps in fortune's maze,
From none more pleasing aid we find
Than from the genuine love of praise.
II.
Nor any partial, private end
Such reverence to the public bears;
Nor any passion, virtue's friend,
So like to virtue's self appears.
III.
For who in glory can delight
Without delight in glorious deeds?
What man a charming voice can slight,
Who courts the echo that succeeds?
IV.
But not the echo on the voice
More, than on virtue praise, depends;
To which, of course, it's real price
The judgment of the praiser lends.
V.
If praise then with religious awe
From the sole perfect judge be sought,
A nobler aim, a purer law
Nor priest, nor bard, nor sage hath taught.
VI.
With which in character the same
Tho' in an humbler sphere it lies,
I count that soul of human fame,
The suffrage of the good and wise.
poem by Mark Akenside
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Truth Itself, Longs For Thine Eyes
When the constant drumming of your deceit dies,
To expose to the world entire, your vicious lies,
Thou shalt be left with a self, e'en thou shalt despise;
The unmitigated gall of the story you did present-
A tale still wanton for the fiend you tried to invent-
Obviates thee as the one to blame, and me, as innocent;
'What a tangled web we do thus weave,
Whence we make it our practice, to deceive';
A web more tangled, one may not conceive!
Perhaps, when next your thought is of deceit,
In its stead, you may allow yourself and verity, to meet-
Though others would need recognize it, at thine feet!
Thou hath lived so long, loyal to thine lies,
That truth itself, longs for thine eyes!
poem by Maurice Harris
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No Small Doubt
Satan starts with a small doubt, when it’s God who’s talked about,
Satan takes a well grounded fool, and uses him as a spiritual tool,
One sharpened tool for deceit, for Satan’s goal of spiritual defeat,
As victory through Christ is yours, but, the enemy subtly implores,
That one soul to join the lost, and become an enemy of the Cross.
It may be someone that you know, though a friend, a spiritual foe,
Maybe a family member, or two, who spiritually disagree with you,
They might not even be aware, when used by the prince of the air,
That serpent and the father of lies, going for that spiritual demise,
Of men and women everywhere, who regarding Truth, do not care.
Satan makes inroads all the time, to sway the heart and the mind,
So that they will reject God’s Son, Christ who came for everyone,
From doubt he moves to deceive, and even men, who do believe,
So that their influence for The Lord, upon others, may go ignored,
As Satan uses everybody he can, even those who are Born Again.
With some doubt he brings dismay, causing clouds along the way,
Clouds of darkness and despair, to assert that God does not care,
But not only does The Lord care, He defeated the prince of the air,
Though Satan will lie until the end, he cannot defeat God my friend,
Who alone, can set all men free, as they accept Truth from Calvary.
It is no small doubt my friend, as Satan works to produce your end,
An end that goes beyond the grave, for all who God does not save,
Not because He can’t; He died for all, but, Satan induces man’s fall,
Man’s enemy in this Age of Grace, so The Truth they won’t embrace,
Inciting doubt, his deceptive breath, moves men to an eternal death.
(Copyright ©08/2008)
In School
in school,
when i saw you
i intuited i have found
my lost world in you
i wish i could act
to be appreciated
by you in school.
in school,
it would be too sad
to narrate the ordeal
i have been through
i wonder if its best
i had met you
in the school.
in school,
though i had not said it
there has been so many ways
that i have shown it
my actions had done
whatever i wanted to say
at school.
in school,
i never thought
being in love
could take me to madness
well, it is better than
leaving me in sadness
in the school.
in school,
when i approached you
i knew i was silly
it was because
suddenly,
i forgot who i was
in school
in school,
why do you sneer
when i am near
it really breaks me
just tell me what to do
to get a room from you
in and out of school.
in school,
sometimes though it is hard
i guess i must let go
some things i wish to have
though good things also
could be found elsewhere
as it has been in school.
poem by Elorm Dogbo
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Frightened Child
I hear your silent scream
Deep in your private dream
Two ways to go from herqqe
One way will bring you near
Fragile wish
Full moon, no rain, no shame
That distance still remains
More shades of grey to come
We've been through more than one
Close your eyes
Like a fightened child
Fragile in spirit
Like a wind blowin' wild
No name you can give it
Like an infant I see in the light for the very first time
No tricks, no slight of hand
Find somewhere safe to land
Before your walls were shaken
But now the whole thing's brakin'
And it makes you feel
Like a fightened child
Fragile in spirit
Like a wind blowin' wild
No name you can give it
Like an infant I see in the light for the very first time
Yes, your right
What is right?
Yes it's night I can tell
Yes it shows
Yes I know
You're a beautiful stanger to yourself
song performed by by Natalie Imbruglia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lotus-flowers
Lotus-flowers
Naked I am before The Author of Life
-the child of nature’s birth and death
Imperfect I am before The Great Mind
-the child of passion’s limited to earth
Rebellious I am before The Truth
-the child of desire clothe with pride
Vicious I am before The Law
-the child of deceit and endless lies
Avaricious I am before The Master of All
-the child of corrupt and distorted image of life
Nauseous I am before The Ancient One
-the child of folly, ignorant antagonist
And I am the pilgrim before the God of the Universe
-the ‘you’ and the ‘I’ across time and space
Note:
Inspired by the teaching on “Nirvana”
poem by Jordan Legaspi
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Prologue To Mallet's Mustapha
Since Athens first began to draw mankind,
To picture life, and show the impassion'd mind;
The truly wise have ever deem'd the stage
The moral school of each enlighten'd age.
There, in full pomp, the tragic Muse appears,
Queen of soft sorrows, and of useful fears.
Faint is the lesson reason's rules impart:
She pours it strong, and instant through the heart.
If virtue is her theme, we sudden glow
With generous flame; and what we feel, we grow.
If vice she paints, indignant passions rise;
The villain sees himself with loathing eyes.
His soul starts, conscious, at another's groan,
And the pale tyrant trembles on his throne.
To-night, our meaning scene attempts to show
What fell events from dark suspicion flow;
Chief when it taints a lawless monarch's mind,
To the false herd of flattering slaves confined.
The soul sinks gradual to so dire a state;
E'en excellence but serves to feed its hate:
To hate remorseless cruelty succeeds,
And every worth, and every virtue bleeds.
Behold, our author at your bar appears,
His modest hopes depress'd by conscious fears.
Faults he has many—but to balance those,
His verse with heart-felt love of virtue glows:
All slighter errors let indulgence spare,
And be his equal trial full and fair.
For this best British privilege we call,
Then—as he merits, let him stand or fall.
poem by James Thomson
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As to the deceit perpetrated upon women, let it pass, for, when love is in the way, men and women as a general rule dupe each other.
quote by Giacomo Casanova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wild n Free
(ian hunter)
Wild n free wild n free
Wild n free wild n free
Oh! Id never known what it was like to free
I always thought it was never true
I got a feeling I was lost in space
Did not like my face
Just wanted to be
Wild n free wild n free
Like a hurricane
Wild n free wild n free
Oh insanitys so insane
Wild n free wild n free
I aint got no got no got no name
Wild n free wild n free
Dont want no ball and chain
Damn people telling me that I was thinking bad
Had me believing they was right
All they wanted was another slob
In some stinking job
That just aint me I just want to be
W w w wild n free wild n free
Like a hurricane
Wild n free wild n free
Oh insanitys so in so insane
Wild n free wild n free
I aint got no name
Wild n free wild n free
I dont I dont want to know a ball and chain
Just then I found out I was too broke to get out
So I took to the road no one was having me
I said dont want no handouts
Cause Im making out
You aint like me I just want to be
Uh uh uh wild n free
I tried to tell you babe but you never understood
I always tried to make you see
But you believed just what your old man said
He had you chained to his head
And its on tv tv tv tv
Want to be want to be want to be
Wild n free wild n free
Like a hurricane
Wild n free wild n free
Oh insanitys so insane
Wild n free wild n free
I aint got no got no got no name
Wild n free wild n free
Dont want no ball and chain
Wild n free wild n free
Just like a ball a ball a ball of fire
Wild n free wild n free
Like it high its getting higher
Wild n free wild n free
Like some bolt from out the sky
Wild n free wild n free
Like some bullett
Say goodbye
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hypocrisy
Hypocrisy
I wanted to sit and write today-but I did not know what to say.
Then a thought came to me. Why don’t I write about hypocrisy?
The hypocrisy of man leaves you to wonder.
Will this country make another blunder?
Will we continue in this Arab war where we are despised/
Will we choose to live a lie?
They say Americans shed their blood for you and me.
We all know its hypocrisy.
Men in uniform no longer fight the world wars.
People who want to hide what they are Moreover, what they say and do is because of me and you. Our service members and women still use our uniforms with pride
It is something that we can’t deny.
I could see it in my mind-the older politician telling the younger one.
“Let the road take its course” we are the trainers and they are the horse.
They will go where we lead them-that is why we are leaders.
The politicians of all nations should hide their heads in shame.
They search for all that they can gain.
They all try to line their pockets
They’ll pull your eyeballs from their sockets.
Then you cannot see all their hidden hypocrisies.
People will believe for a short period
While it weighs on their mind.
They have to tell the politicians that they will not follow
Like sheep to a slaughter so they could make a quarter.
We must tell them that we are tired as can be-living in hypocrisy.
poem by Louis Rams
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Satyr III. Virtue
Is virtue something reall here below
Or but an Idle name & empty show
While on this head I take my thoughts to task
Methinks young Freedom answers wt I ask
In his own moralls thus the Spark goes on
Or thus if he were here he might have don
In what wild hill or unfrequented plain
hast thou been bred so ignorant of men
Such doubts in such a world to entertain
Or has thy father had an hopefull son
by Colledge education quite undon
& therefore wisely gave his others none
Believe me Sr that what you faign woud know
is but a word to signify a show
Often it is 'tis often not designd
& still it makes a riddle of the mind.
Now see how evidently this appears
in the clear language of particulars.
All men do Sporus very chast esteem
But does he rule his will or nature him
What he might be himself he little knows
Who never had a passion to oppose
he must be chast with out a world of pains
for all his virtue is his impotence.
Damon the hottest rakell of the town
has his cast misses on the common thrown
No signs of great repentance does he show
But the mans bound his wife's his virtue now
Nor friends nor glorious wine nor sparkling witt
Makes Codrus ere beyond a bottle sitt
this is his temperance his acquaintance say
& att the barr they give him leave to pay
But they forgett that Codrus is so poor
& all his virtue may be want of more
A sexton scarcely can resolve to ring
But Cotta flyes as on devotions wing
tows his old aunt in black to every prayer
Whines as he goes & prayes aloud when there
thus to be Guardian when she dies he'le gett
his virtue is the hopes of pow'r to cheat
thus various mankind cou'd I quickly trace
& show how fondly we mistake their wayes
how something which they are not oft they seem
& how that something brings them in esteem
but to be short with in my self I feel
too deepely rooted all the seeds of ill
Mad passions reason not invincible
& chance to be misguided in my will
Why shoud I think another has not these
is he more perfect man or am I less.
To such a loose harangue on t'other side
My honest Trueman woud have thus replyd
While by yr own you blame anothers soul
You must go wrong & ye illbiassd bowl
bear on a falser ground at every roul
tis granted where the moralls run awry
there your reflections very justly ly
but think you there are none to good inclind
from the meer sway of reason on their mind
think you that every one woud rather be
Slave to his passions then from passion free
for such they are who have no powr to stay
When every weak temptation calls away
Curio is summond to Corinna's house
Cross is his father cruell is her spouse
the dangers great but Curio must be gon
a pleasure tempts a passion hurry's on
Nor are the troubles which pursue it all
for you may feel the very fetters gall
Dispair & hope with lingring pangs remain
Sorrow & Joy give much a quicker pain
& love & hate in wild convulsions reign.
When with their proper objects these attack
tis to be virtuous then to drive 'em back
entrenchd with in ye rules wch prudence makes
tis virtue still an æquall mind to bear
Nor swoln wth hope nor too depressed wth fear
to lett the Man secure from passion move
in reasons orb serenely plac'd above
tis Virtue to maintain your country's cause
Support your king while he supports her laws
nor in th' oppressing of a kingdom share
for fifteen hundred English pounds a year
paid down by order of ye Commons here
tis virtue & the highest mentiond yet
to think religion not a trick of state
Nature has fooles who know not of this way
& fooles alone have priviledge to stray
But if a Competence of Sense she give
& the receivers do not upright live
their different failures do such words create
as Atheist traytor villain rakehell cheat
defamer pander whore knight of ye post
& hypocrites a Common name for most
Most strive to varnish their prevailing vice
& grant with ease when they succeed in this
the Case the same where the appearance is
but goodness ever has the same appeard
While no design is still upon its guard
the best is onely but ye best begun
Sooner or later by its self undon
Ore peaceful citts the hectring bullys reign
But while they hector so they know their men
Shoud they vex one at last to Cudgells bred
the masque of valour wont protect ye head
While the tough cane insults the shining blade
I scorn in verity old Gripus cry's
this swearing this unprofitable vice
but mony mollifys the wretches scorn
& he who hates to swear will be forsworn
thus ill men never fail of being known
how sly so e're a vizard they put on
but still the good both seem & are ye same
unmovd by passion, int'rest, humour, fame
tis thus that they deserve ye name of men
by ruling of themselves they empires gain
& laugh at fortune raisd above her reign.
poem by Thomas Parnell
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Unknown Author
I dip my pen in vitriol
to pen the letters which I write.
To highlight sin my only goal
It’s my belief I have the right.
An aging spinster old and bent
I always walked the narrow path
remaining pure and innocent.
Frustration now fuels my wrath.
Behind lace curtains I can see
much more than people think I can.
I keep my watch vigilantly.
I know the movements of each man.
Not only men but women too
as they conduct sordid affairs
and I will write to those who do.
To let them know somebody dares
Inform them that their secrets known.
How they transgress morality
a task I undertake alone.
My quill is sharp and lacks pity.
I scourge the sinners with my pen
because I have no other course.
Perhaps they will not sin again
if I can fill them with remorse.
It is my duty I must try
to wean them from their sinful ways
I know they fear publicity
to be exposed to public gaze.
Such is the power I now wield.
my only tool my trusty pen.
When guilty secrets are revealed,
they fear that I will strike again.
Nothing escapes my eagle eye.
Facts are recorded faithfully.
I have strict rules which I apply
I take my duty seriously.
I lacked the opportunity
I never had the chance to stray.
Perhaps a tinge of jealousy
has made me what I am today.
But Oh the pleasure that I gain
is in some way a recompense
for years of loneliness and pain.
Which I endured with forebearance
I wreak my revenge secretly.
Nobody will suspect that it is me
exposing the hypocrisy
of modern day society.
24-Jun-08
http: //blog.my space.com/poetic piers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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