Truth, Goodness And Integrity
THE BEARER OF TRUTH COURTS TROUBLE IN THE WORLD OF LIARS,
THE BEARER OF LIES COURTS TROUBLE IN THE WORLD OF THE TRUTHFULL,
WHY DOST MY WORLD DETEST TRUTH?
WHY DOST MY LAND DETEST GOODNESS?
YES, EVEN MINE HOUSE DETESTS INTEGRITY,
THUS I AM BECOME UNWELCOME IN MINE WORLD,
LO AND BEHOLD, I AM NOW BECOME AN ABOMINATION IN MY LAND,
YES, I AM NOW BECOME DETESTED IN MY OWN HOUSE,
YES, I AM BECOME THAT WHICH THEY DETEST,
I AM BECOME TRUTHFULL,
I AM BECOME GOOD,
YES, I NOW GLOW WITH INTEGRITY,
YES INDEED, I AM TRUELY BECOME THAT WHICH THEY DETEST,
GOODNESS, TRUTHFULL, AND FILLED OF INTEGRITY!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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Related quotes
We live in a world
Today we live in a world
where truth, honour,
and integrity is trampled on.
When leaders lie
and bend the truth
to soot their own ambitions
and passions,
when men disregard
other men and misuse them
as tools or stepping stones
or parts to the big machine,
or cannon feed in a festering war
and wealth and power
and self-indulgence
becomes the ultimate good,
there’s something terribly wrong
with society and the world we live in.
In time men become like gods
in there own eyes
and they view the Holy One
as equal to themselves
and bent on self-glory
and chasing His own pleasure
for selfish reasons,
where with the Almighty
truth, honour, integrity
and the Divine goodness
of His self sacrificing love
remains forever more.
poem by Gert Strydom
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397
when we are far away from each other
at continent's length
we want to reach each other's arms and
when we cannot we always have someone
some other cause to blame
like the zodiac, or the alignment of the stars
and the planets, or the society or even
the structures like some falling pillars
and blasted walls
but in truth when we meet and become
so near like a dinner for two
or a dance where our cheeks lean over
each other we soon realize this feeling of
i detest you and you detest me
we soon realize, that this feeling of indifference
has stayed within our hearts
for truly we have identified with the world in pain
and to take revenge for a sickness without cure
we pretend we are humans missing another likeness.
it happens, right there where we exchanged words
we must accept, another relationship has ended
and we in fact, really do not care less.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When We Are Far Away
when we are far away from each other
at continent's length
we want to reach each other's arms and
when we cannot we always have someone
some other cause to blame
like the zodiac, or the alignment of the stars
and the planets, or the society or even
the structures like some falling pillars
and blasted walls
but in truth when we meet and become
so near like a dinner for two
or a dance where our cheeks lean over
each other we soon realize this feeling of
i detest you and you detest me
we soon realize, that this feeling of indifference
has stayed within our hearts
for truly we have identified with the world in pain
and to take revenge for a sickness without cure
we pretend we are humans missing another likeness.
it happens, right there where we exchanged words
we must accept, another relationship has ended
and we in fact, really do not care less.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Whenever we read the obscene stories, voluptuous debaucheries, the cruel and tortous executions, the unrelenting vindictivenes, with which more than half the Bible is filled, it would be more consistant that we called it the word of a Demon than the word of God. It is a history of wickedness that has served to corrupt and brutalize mankind, and, for my part, I sincerly detest it as I detest everything that is cruel.
quote by Thomas Paine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Preference Declared
Boy, I detest the Persian pomp;
I hate those linden-bark devices;
And as for roses, holy Moses!
They can't be got at living prices!
Myrtle is good enough for us,--
For you, as bearer of my flagon;
For me, supine beneath this vine,
Doing my best to get a jag on!
poem by Eugene Field
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Afar
From afar we carry out our threats,
To engulf them who marry in certain fashions
That we detest, and we also do not like.
For such is nightmare, mostly burden,
So that guts are spilt, and trained to form back
In their rightful place, the guts are not gone.
We engulf their brains when winter blushes
And intelligent spring sees sights of serenity.
They live in the hope of murder to bring about
A path of solutions, ones that we detest,
And we like the way of the world as it is.
In fact, the answers lie in the storms of time
And we must dig to engage in matter some deeds-
We like the deeds of the rich and the threats are vast.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Wetness
Keeping it a thought you detest...
Is a kept confession,
You love wetness.
You're no different than the rest.
Those who undress quick,
For sex and wetness.
Denying heat wont make it go away.
Saying something different,
Is in conflict with your mission.
Keeping it a thought you detest...
Is a kept confession,
You love wetness.
You're no different than the rest.
Those who undress quick,
For sex and wetness.
Lie about it!
Try to hide those naked wishes in your mind.
Deny and fight it.
But you know fresh meat is what you want to find.
To bump and grind as you're sighing.
Keeping it a thought you detest...
Is a kept confession,
You love wetness.
You're no different than the rest.
Those who undress quick,
For sex and wetness.
You despair for nakedness and wetness.
You want it there,
Some sex and wetness.
Keeping you uptight at night,
And restless.
Ooooohhhyeah...
Keeping it a thought you detest...
Is a kept confession,
You love wetness.
You're no different than the rest.
Those who undress quick,
For sex and wetness.
mmmmm...
That sex and wetness.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Law That Isn't
The law that isn't!
But should be...
Integrity.
Integrity.
All kinds of crime,
Have been defined.
But...
One escapes from a state of mind.
Integrity!
The law that isn't.
Integrity.
integrity!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Poem At The Approach Of Spring
It's spring. I suppose I ought to be impressed
By snowdrops, daffodils and all the rest -
Quite frankly I detest
The whole goddamn scene,
I'm sick of every platitude
That betrays some soppy poetic attitude -
I'm feeling quite depressed!
The world is young again and green
But, what the hell,
I feel about a hundred years old!
Yes, I detest
The way the poets are so obsessed
With snowdrops, daffodils and all the rest!
I suppose you've guessed
I've lost my poet's interest
In life and growing things,
The way the blackbird sings
And builds its nest,
I am a man apart
And nothing will ever comfort my empty heart.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Detest
People ask me
Why do I
Detest him
So much?
Let me
Put it very
Simply:
All the world's
My friend.
I can afford to have
One enemy ;)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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I most often land up taking up the roles that I most detest.
quote by Christine Lahti
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Out of Season
It's tragic!
And more sadistic it gets,
When a truth is left to sit...
To be decided by those most misfit.
It's tragic!
And more sadistic it gets,
When a truth is left to sit...
To be decided by those most misfit.
Integrity once had is not allowed.
Those made to feel a guilt,
Had walked so proud.
But now...
They're out of season.
It's tragic!
And more sadistic it gets,
When a truth is left to sit...
To be decided by those most misfit.
It's tragic!
And more sadistic it gets,
When a truth is left to sit...
To be decided by those most misfit.
Integrity once had is not allowed.
Those made to feel a guilt,
Had walked so proud.
But now...
They're out of season.
Integrity once had is not allowed.
Those made to feel a guilt,
Had walked so proud.
But now...
They're out of season.
Where is the truth and the goodness of the people.
Have they all gone out of season.
The goodness of the people.
Oh...
Where is the truth and the goodness of the people.
Have they all gone out of season.
The goodness of the people.
Oh...
Where is the truth and the goodness of the people.
Have they all gone out of season.
The goodness of the people.
Oh...
Where is the truth and the goodness of the people.
Have they all gone out of season.
The goodness of the people.
Oh...
Where is the truth and the goodness of the people.
Have they all gone out of season.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Houses
1898 -- A Song of the Dominions
'Twixt my house and thy house the pathway is broad,
In thy house or my house is half the world's hoard;
By my house and thy house hangs all the world's fate,
On thy house and my house lies half the world's hate.
For my house and thy house no help shall we find
Save thy house and my house -- kin cleaving to kind;
If my house be taken, thine tumbleth anon.
If thy house be forfeit, mine followeth soon.
'Twixt my house and thy house what talk can there be
Of headship or lordship, or service or fee?
Since my house to thy house no greater can send
Than thy house to my house -- friend comforting friend;
And thy house to my house no meaner can bring
Than my house to thy house -- King counselling King.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Drunk Artifical Pleasure
Intoxicating like the strange water of Erin
Exquisite like the deranged poems of Poe,
My soul permeates into the heart,
My heart synthesizes into the whole
Finding a nebulous world we do not know
A world to detest for paradise is barren…
poem by Kevin Michael Murphy
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The World Is In Pain
This world was once as bright as gold
With happy people young and old
But then as the people tell
To the evil goodness began to sell
The world wasn’t as bad as it is
With people’s tears coming out as rain
It wasn’t filled with darkness
It wasn’t like today - The World Is In Pain
And as the darkness began to prevail
So says the story tellers tale
From bad to worse, and worse to worst
It felt as if the whole world would burst
The world wasn’t filled with all sorts of crimes
With all the people going insane
The world wasn’t filled with killers and bandits
It wasn’t like today - The World Is In Pain
Now evil is ruling and angels are dieing
No truth is there and the people are lying
And as the truth is overpowered by lie
Over all places the dark clouds fly
The world wasn’t filled with lies
With search of truth ending in vain
The world wasn’t filled with darkness
It wasn’t like today - The World Is In Pain
poem by Vidushi Khera
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Walking Tables
How do tables walk as one?
And why do chairs seem to run?
How my rest is desired, and how
Do I kick in the air for relaxation?
My chimney is found with the soot
Of a black utterance, as seemly as light;
The light travels up and down the world,
With smoke, crime is committed, like walking
Chairs and turning tables, this world is one.
With this house may I live alone,
Where wolves like criminals detest you.
Anyone walked a long distance, anyway,
Justice must be allowed, and searched
By the home and heaven.
How do tables and chairs move?
poem by Naveed Akram
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Sonnet: Avoid Intrusion
Why stir a hornet’s nest and get stung bad?
Why break a termite-hill, disturb the snake?
Why irk the warrior-ants and make them mad?
Why pluck the beehive live to honey take?
’Tis wrong to get into others’ domain,
And doing this knowingly could bring Hell;
Though maimed, the first attempt could be in vain;
You must have skills before the cat, you bell.
Good and bad things happen almost world-wide;
Intrusion is something all well detest;
Some foolish men, women have also died;
To keep off from trouble-mongers is best.
Do not invite undue troubles to self;
You can’t discern the Angel from the Elf.
7-11-2002
poem by John Celes
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The Malefactor's Plea
Of sentences that stir my bile,
Of phrases I detest,
There's one beyond all others vile;
"He did it for the best."
Of course he did: I don't suppose,
Nor can you think I should,
The man's among my deadliest foes,
Or is not fairly good.
Of course he did it for the best:
What should he do it for?
But did he do it? that's the test:
I ask to know no more.
Alas! he did: and here am I,
Quite ruined, half disgraced;
And you can really ask me why
My wrath is not effaced:
And there is he, good worthy man,
With self-esteem possessed,
Still saying, as of course he can,
"I did it for the best."
No evil deed was ever done,
Or honest man withstood,
Since first this weary world begun,
Except for someone's good.
And can it signify to me
Whose good he did it for?
Mine was it? thus 'twas wont to be,
And will be ever more.
When inoffensive people plant
A dagger in your breast,
Your good is what they really want:
They do it for the best.
poem by James Kenneth Stephen
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The Patteran
From over the leagues of ice and snow, and the miles of scorching sand;
From back of the days of long ago, and the lonely sea and land—
To the end of the world and our Gipsy race, to the death of our dark-eyed line,
I have set the lines on my children’s palms as my fathers did on mine,
That the world shall know and my name shall glow in the light of the aftershine—
I have set the lines on my children’s palms as my fathers did on mine.
I have given them health and strength, pure blood, clear skins for a glorious youth;
I have set in their souls contempt for sham, and a deathless regard for truth;
I have bequeathed the spirit to fight, I have given the will to rise,
And the slumbering fires of Hate and Love in their dreaming, dreaming eyes.
That the world shall know and my name shall glow in the light of the aftershine,
I have set the lines on my children’s palms as my fathers did on mine.
I have given the love for their native land, wherever that land may be
(My children came from the East, my friends, and round by the Northern Sea),
And a son of a son of mine enemy, to the end of his treacherous line,
Shall be stricken to earth, if he dare but speak, by a son of a son of mine.
That the world shall know and my name shall glow in the light of the aftershine,
I have set the lines on my children’s palms as my fathers did on mine.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Lust has no shyness
.
The sipped syrup or the bitten dishes
Are the ones sullied by others’ tongues,
So I detest. But your very tongue,
To reach I am very much in anguish.
Why?
The rubbish decay or the rotten eggs
Are so much a repelling odour
So I detest. But your very armpit,
To inhale I am very much eager.
Why?
Hand is washed while private part
Is held, after the toilet.
But when at bed, her very part
One shies not manipulating.
Why?
Is it that lust has no eyes?
Or that it alone has eyes
To discriminate the bliss
And to retrieve one to the sense?
Latter must be.
What to the rational is dirty
Is to sex pretty;
What to the sensible is foul
Is to sex agreeable;
What to mind is ugly
Is to sex holy.
31.07.99
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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