Fragment Of A Satire On Satire
If gibbets, axes, confiscations, chains,
And racks of subtle torture, if the pains
Of shame, of fiery Hell’s tempestuous wave,
Seen through the caverns of the shadowy grave,
Hurling the damned into the murky air
While the meek blest sit smiling; if Despair
And Hate, the rapid bloodhounds with which Terror
Hunts through the world the homeless steps of Error,
Are the true secrets of the commonweal
To make men wise and just;...
And not the sophisms of revenge and fear,
Bloodier than is revenge...
Then send the priests to every hearth and home
To preach the burning wrath which is to come,
In words like flakes of sulphur, such as thaw
The frozen tears...
If Satire’s scourge could wake the slumbering hounds
Of Conscience, or erase the deeper wounds,
The leprous scars of callous Infamy;
If it could make the present not to be,
Or charm the dark past never to have been,
Or turn regret to hope; who that has seen
What Southey is and was, would not exclaim,
‘Lash on!’ ... be the keen verse dipped in flame;
Follow his flight with winged words, and urge
The strokes of the inexorable scourge
Until the heart be naked, till his soul
See the contagion’s spots ... foul;
And from the mirror of Truth’s sunlike shield,
From which his Parthian arrow...
Flash on his sight the spectres of the past,
Until his mind’s eye paint thereon--
Let scorn like ... yawn below,
And rain on him like flakes of fiery snow.
This cannot be, it ought not, evil still--
Suffering makes suffering, ill must follow ill.
Rough words beget sad thoughts, ... and, beside,
Men take a sullen and a stupid pride
In being all they hate in others’ shame,
By a perverse antipathy of fame.
’Tis not worth while to prove, as I could, how
From the sweet fountains of our Nature flow
These bitter waters; I will only say,
If any friend would take Southey some day,
And tell him, in a country walk alone,
Softening harsh words with friendship’s gentle tone,
How incorrect his public conduct is,
And what men think of it, ’twere not amiss.
Far better than to make innocent ink--
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
God Knows
GOD counts the tears that we have cried
GOD knows the times that we have lied
He knows all, that enters and leaves our mind
And he knows too, if we are evil or if we are kind.
GOD knows the words that we have said
GOD knows also where we lay our head
He knows the sins that we hold in our heart
And he even knows when our end will part.
GOD knows all that's in our soul
GOD knows all that we do know
He knows the hairs that's on our head
He knows the words we speak before they are said.
GOD knows the steps that we will take
GOD knows the plans that we will make
He knows all that's in our brain
As he is the one to end our suffering and our pain.
So this I say to all my sisters and brothers
Also to my neighbors and friends and all others
Before you tell a lie the truth is already known
So heed what you say before that seed is sewn.
Before you commit a evil please think once again
Is worrying and suffering in your soul worth that sin
So before you commit a sin that causes evils and woes
Please remember my friend; that GOD already knows.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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I Do Not Hate.....
I hate the way you drive me mad
And the way my head won't shut
I hate that you can make me glad
And the burning that won't cut
I hate the way you made me fall]
And how myself i found
I hate my mobile when you call
I hate that stupid sound
I hate the way my heart shivers
The time you call my cell
I hate that thoughts flow like rivers
Inside my head is hell
I hate the way you read my mind
I hate what you make me feel
I hate how I've become this blind
I hate that you are real
I hate it how you stole my pride
I hate that I admit
I hate the way I boil inside
And how my heart you lit
I hate to think that you are small
I hate to think you're not
I hate to think that above all
I might not get a shot
I hate the things you make me do
And how you make me shove
I hate that i do not hate you
I hate it might be love...
Rumors, Lies and Infernal Spies
Damned ARE the Evil-
That cast their spells (hex)
To a fiery grave they are bound-
Destinataion-Earthen Hell;
Some often times refer to it-
As the River Styx-
Where all condemned when dying-
Enter into Hell and the Rivers fiery mix;
Evil comes in all shapes and sizes-
Witches come in all styles -
Absolute wickedness 'tis recognized..-
Oft' times in words of bitter bile;
Clinching for all who NEED: 'To Know'
The accurate count and details..-
Where Evil grows and God-He knows-
Quenches the victims of the spells travail;
Much suffering has already been spent...! ! !
To wit and his viscious spark..-
Still inflict with their sharpest blows-
From deep in their Infernal Dark;
May 16,2010
Just a write about the evil that some
Still practice in this (civilized?) world.
poem by Theodora Onken
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Words
we open the doors to worlds unknown
when we sit and read.
words help us to travel
this earth far and wide
even makes us soar high into the sky.
words can tell us of the past
the present, and even the future.
if we only look
inside a book.
words to make a contract
words to make a vow
all these words
we can use right now.
words tell your feelings, your thoughts, desires, passions
likes, dislikes, fears, joys
but most of all, love can express the love you have within.
for a mother, father, sister, brother
for a man or a woman.
your chest becomes overwhelmed
with the feeling that you have inside.
a love that you can not hide.
a love so strong that it consumes your soul
a beautiful wonder to behold.
for it rises higher than the highest mountain
and deeper than the deepest sea.
when you say those special words
'you belong to me'.
words sharpen the mind to all that is done
like the rising of the sun.
if we could not see or hear words,
it would be like living in darkness.
and never learning to appreciate
what we was given.
so these words i write today
expresses what i want to say.
without words we could not live
and that my friend
would be a down right sin.
poem by Louis Rams
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St. Anthony The Reformer
HIS TEMPTATION
No fear lest praise should make us proud!
We know how cheaply that is won;
The idle homage of the crowd
Is proof of tasks as idly done.
A surface-smile may pay the toil
That follows still the conquering Right,
With soft, white hands to dress the spoil
That sun-browned valor clutched in fight.
Sing the sweet song of other days,
Serenely placid, safely true,
And o'er the present's parching ways
The verse distils like evening dew.
But speak in words of living power,--
They fall like drops of scalding rain
That plashed before the burning shower
Swept o' er the cities of the plain!
Then scowling Hate turns deadly pale,--
Then Passion's half-coiled adders spring,
And, smitten through their leprous mail,
Strike right and left in hope to sting.
If thou, unmoved by poisoning wrath,
Thy feet on earth, thy heart above,
Canst walk in peace thy kingly path,
Unchanged in trust, unchilled in love,--
Too kind for bitter words to grieve,
Too firm for clamor to dismay,
When Faith forbids thee to believe,
And Meekness calls to disobey,--
Ah, then beware of mortal pride!
The smiling pride that calmly scorns
Those foolish fingers, crimson dyed
In laboring on thy crown of thorns!
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Words.... (Poetry Itself)
words do not heal the broken hearted,
words do not end wars.
words do not change the face of indifference,
words do not impress god!
words do not feed the hungry,
nor set the captives free.
words do not give shelter to the homeless,
or hope to those ridden with despair.
words do not stop discrimination,
words do not bring justice.
words do not bring forgiveness,
nor do they bring understanding...
words do not fill the empty,
nor erase the scars of love...
words do not define dialogue!
it is only then,
the hands and feet of the human heart...
and poetry itself is nothing more,
than the action of involved compassion!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Hate...
I hate the way you make me feel
I hate that you think your always right
I hate that you mock my words
I hate the words you say to me
I hate how you always yell at me
I hate that you don’t take me seriously
I hate that you think every thing's a joke
I hate how you ignore me
I hate how your overdramatic
I hate how it’s only your way or no way
I hate how you don’t believe or trust me
I hate how you don’t give me second chance
I hate that your selfish and so unfair
I hate how you know how to get to me
I hate how you play with my emotions
I hate the way you make me cry
I hate how you make me wish horrible things upon myself
I hate the way you make me feel useless and worthless
And most of all I hate that I love you
poem by Michael Stripp
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My Thoughts
Thought in the eyes,
The ears.
Thought in mind,
The brain,
Thought in heart,
The soul.
Great thought is great
when it becomes great deeds.
With my thoughts within
Building my world within
Learning with thought;
Is great learning wisdom.
Learning without thought,
Is opportunity lost.
Thought for others
Thought for God
Thought for good
Thought for God’s blessing
Thoughts teach me,
Thoughts educate me,
Thoughts clarify me,
Thoughts enlighten me.
Thoughts make me wise
Thoughts make me patience
Thoughts make me trust others
Thoughts make me clam.
Thoughts before act
Is smart and wise
Act before thoughts
Is stupid and foolish
That’s my thoughts
They make thinking clear
They make belief deepen
They make confidence high.
In thoughts, my world
In my world, make my thoughts.
In thoughts, my words
In my words, make my speech
It’s my thoughts count
Counting my thoughts
To endless counting thoughts
Thinking the thoughts endlessly
My thoughts and thoughts again.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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Cliche
One more game, one more chance
One more orchestrated song and dance
Hed be up front and speak his peace
And ask for her time
To put their heads together
And try to make the knot unwind
And it strikes home that its time to make his move
Or its time to turn and walk away
So he plays that old clich
Silent tears, bleeding heart
Well our prima donna plies her art
Defenses of defenses of faultless design
Still shes only asking him
To help her make the knot unwind
And if the very next words
Leaving her lips could decide
If hed go or if hed stay
She would play that old clich
Who makes up the rules for the world?
Havent we been down this road before?
Isnt anything peculiar here?
Certainly there must be something more
Where are the words, where are the words,
Where are the words
Where are the words, where are the words,
Where are the words
And its almost not worth singing about,
It seems so everyday anyway
Still we play that old clich
And here sit i, one man show
I vivisect and then pretend to know
All it ever gets me is an ache in the mind
Cant somebody help me to try to make the knot unwind
And I say what I say when I know
Theres really nothing left to say
Then I play that old clich
Throw away that old clich
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Dusk
AT DUSK, like flowers that shun the day,
Shy thoughts from dim recesses break,
And plead for words I dare not say
For your sweet sake.
My early love! my first, my last!
Mistakes have been that both must rue;
But all the passion of the past
Survives for you.
The tender message Hope might send
Sinks fainting at the lips of speech,
For, are you lover—are you friend,
That I would reach?
How much to-night I’d give to win
A banished peace—an old repose;
But here I sit, and sigh, and sin
When no one knows.
The stern, the steadfast reticence,
Which made the dearest phrases halt,
And checked a first and finest sense,
Was not my fault.
I held my words because there grew
About my life persistent pride;
And you were loved, who never knew
What love could hide!
This purpose filled my soul like flame:
To win you wealth and take the place
Where care is not, nor any shame
To vex your face.
I said “Till then my heart must keep
Its secrets safe and unconfest;”
And days and nights unknown to sleep
The vow attest.
Yet, oh! my sweet, it seems so long
Since you were near; and fates retard
The sequel of a struggle strong,
And life is hard—
Too hard, when one is left alone
To wrestle passion, never free
To turn and say to you, “My own,
Come home to me!”
poem by Henry Kendall
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The Guest House
What imps are these that come with scowl and leer?
Black motes upon the morning's amber beam,
They crowd and float about each happy dream
And blow upon pure joy the taint of fear.
Perforce those muttered hideous words we hear,
Yet bid our nobler nature rise supreme
And, sunlike, dry to naught th' infernal steam
Till all our day is luminous and clear.
“What cruel beasts find refuge in the soul
Amid the murky deep of sightless flame
Whose waves are flatten'd by a rain of blood!”
Nay, but however pure the waters roll,
The offal thrown therein will rise and shame
Their glittering pride with bubbles from the mud.
poem by John Le Gay Brereton
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Words are a powerful tool
Words can be cruel
and they can be kind
words can touch the heart
and invade the mind.
Words can be a weapon
as sharp as any knife
they can bring despair
and ruin someone's life.
But words can bring joy
and hope and cheer
words used wisely
can wipe away fear.
Words, words, words,
created in the mind
used to be nasty
or to be kind.
So watch your words
there a mighty tool
they can make you look smart
or an insensitive fool!
poem by Kevin Halls
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Pretty Words
Ive seen the way he cast his spell
Hes gonna hurt you I can tell
Just to prove that he can be your lover
Hes gonna turn on that charm
Tonight hell wrap you in his arms
Tomrrow he will leave you for another
Pretty is as pretty does
Thats how it is and always was
Pretty words are all hes givin you
And when he whispers int he dark
Watch out hes gonna break your heart
cause pretty words wont make your dreams come true
Theyre just pretty words
Just pretty words
In the morning you will find
That you were just the next in line
Theres nothing I can do thats gonna stop you
Before you go just let me say
Id never treat your love that way
Ill be here long after hes forgot you
Pretty is as pretty does
Thats how it is and always was
Pretty words are all hes givin you
And when he whispers int he dark
Watch out hes gonna break your heart
cause pretty words wont make your dreams come true
Theyre just pretty words
Just pretty words
song performed by by Vince Gill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Hate
if you hate then you hate the words of life
if you hate then you hate the words of pain
if you hate then you hate the words of fate
if you hate then you hate the words of true love
if you hate then you hate the words of the world
if you hate you hate the words of your fate
so why hate when you can love the words we speak so why hate when you can love the words your lord speaks and why hate when you can love the ones who love you
SO WHY HATE
poem by Andy Pierce
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I hate you!
I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!
I hate the way you make me feel
I hate the things you say
I hate the way you think you have a right to hate me
And I’m starting to hate your face
I hate the way you make me cry
And I hate the words you say
I hate the way you push me
And I hate how you haven’t tried
I hate the way you make me feel
And I hate this pain
I hate the way you think of me
And I hate this stupid game
poem by Kathleen Franklin
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A Passing Voice
'Turn me a rhyme,' said Fate,
'Turn me a rhyme:
A swift and deadly hate
Blows headlong towards thee in the teeth of Time.
Write! or thy words will fall too late.'
'Write me a fold,' said Fate,
'Write me a fold,
Life to conciliate,
Of words red with thine heart's blood, hotly told.
Then, kings may envy thine estate!'
'Make thee a fame,' said Fate,
'Make thee a fame
To storm the heaven-hung gate,
Unbarred alone to the victorious name
Which has Art's conquerors to mate.'
'Die in thy shame,' said Fate,
'Die in thy shame!
Naught here can compensate
But the proud radiance of that glorious flame,
Genius: fade, thou, unconsecrate!'
poem by Rose Hawthorne Lathrop
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Words
Words are my weapon
words are my shield
Guns and knifes just ruin lives
so words I keep concealed
Words are all I have here
they help me struggle on
Words are here forever,
when all I have is gone
In my thoughts or in my poems
Words will help ease my brain
I write down what is on my mind
Expressing love or feeling pain
Not that many I can trust
But words I can depend
Words wont turn there back on you
Words are my only friend
poem by Nic Hillen
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Speak the Words
I had enough words to say that I was sorry
I had enough ways to make it go away
But foolish pride has ruined the path before me
I guess the sun can only shine here once a day
I drowned myself in a wave of lost ambition
I filled your world with my hate and disbelief
I trapped my soul in an awkward disposition
And deep inside I hope that no one sees me
Can you feel the pain I hide
I laugh out loud but cry inside
No one's there to save me from my doubt
Cause I don't dare to speak the words out loud
Try to find me in my sorrow
Time won't take away the truth
Can't change the way that we are changing
I hope that we will finally learn to
Can you feel the pain I hide
I laugh out loud but cry inside
No one's there to save me from my doubt
Cause I'm too scared to speak the words out loud
I walk the dessert all alone
No place to rest my mind
The sun is burning in my soul
song performed by by Green Lizard from Identity
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Root To Branches
Words get written. Words get twisted.
Old meanings move in the drift of time.
Lift the flickering torches. See gentle shadows change
the features of the faces cut in unmoving stone.
Bad mouth on a prayer day, hope no one's listening.
Roots down in the wet clay, branches glistening.
True disciples carrying that message
to colour just a little with their personal touch.
Home-spun fancy weavers and naked half-believers --
Crusades and creeds descend like fiery flakes of snow.
Bad mouth on a prayer day, hope no one's listening.
Roots down in the wet clay, branches glistening.
In wet and windy priest-holes. Grand in vast cathedrals.
High on lofty minarets or in the temples of doom.
I hope the old man's got his face on.
He'd better be some quick change artist.
Suffer little children to make their minds up soon.
Bad mouth on a prayer day, hope no one's listening.
Roots down in the wet clay, branches glistening.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Hate It
i hate this stupid world
and the place i have in it
i hate this stupid house
and the life that its finished
i hate this computer
so ragged, so slow
i hate all the things
that i do not know
i hate the way words
can bring a person to their knees
i hate that hearts
break so easily
i hate that people die
when theyre oh so young in age
i hate it when my book
is oddly missing a page
i hate it when you cry
and won't tell me what's wrong
i hate the way people write random stuff
and sing it and call it a song
i hate that life sucks
and always will for me
i hate it that we can't
go on living happily
i hate it that i like you
when you so obviously don't like me back
i hate it when my parents
never cut me any slack
i hate it that im breaking
and nothing can fix the truth
i hate my wounds for healing
and not staying to give proof
i hate that i hate so many things
yet i don't regret a bit
i hate it that i don't always hate the days
when i feel like shit
poem by Something Changing
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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