Begging The Question
to get a clearance from the ombudsman
you get the clearance first from the NBI
(go to the NBI)
to get a clearance from the NBI
you need to get first the clearance from the Ombudsman
oh common!
which comes first the chicken or the egg?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Radio Clearance
I won't try the anger
Yours will do good
These air waves must go
and end the transmitting confusion
Understand the anger
Hear it on the radio
About the bitterness
Give the hate clearance
The radio needs clearance to hate
and for this static, , ,
It will take radio clearance
Take it
Leave it
Use it
Sell it
Hate it, hate it, hate it
This will take radio clearance
poem by Mason Maestro
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Do the job first. Worry about the clearance later.
quote by Sargent Shriver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm guess I'm up to about 70% of normal, which is a real relief. My doctor gave me clearance to go out in public again, so I've been able to go to the store and help out a little bit around the house.
quote by Wil Wheaton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Not just in commerce but in the world of ideas too our age is putting on a veritable clearance sale. Everything can be had so dirt cheap that one begins to wonder whether in the end anyone will want to make a bid.
quote by Soren Kierkegaard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There was a second problem that was still not a technical problem... the project became classified. I couldn't work on it after having gone to all that trouble. I was considered a security risk, so I could not get a clearance.
quote by Gordon Gould
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Auction
New clearance sale! ! !
Satan brokered the deal
A salvo from nuclear arsenal
Knocked down bid final
Mr. Hades clinched all
Body wrappers are buried
Spirits are…… under dispatch
poem by Sathya Narayana
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The Other End Of Analysis
Why do you analyze me?
It's devastating to be torn apart
Taking every simile
Like being alive for an autopsy
I should stop this before
You get an idea to take my heart
Taking my metaphor
You walk over me. I've become a floor!
I don't care if it's used everyday,
It may be common, but don't take that part!
Hey, you'd better give back my cliche!
...And 'always do unto others' they say
I practically have anemia,
Why can't you leave me alone you old fart?
It is my onomatopoeia!
Ow, ow, ow, ow! Hey, stop yanking, will ya? !
You're not just analyzing me, you con
Hey, you know, I'm not clearance at Wal-mart!
Don't even look at my oxymoron!
I'll piously hate you for an eon!
If I had legs, I'd kick in your shin!
Oh, no! Get away from me! Don't you start!
Get your hands off of my allusion!
This Boston Massacre is a real sin!
poem by Caroline Bulleck
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060410H channel those energy for good cause
whenever i accomplish something
i felt so good no matter how small
could it be finding the ant's nest
or buying a golf balls on clearance
i guess it's part of our psychosystem
problem solve weighs in gold; true
one time i was watching a tennis match
then i imagine a knight fighting with his sword
i'm convince; possible to take down hundreds
sad to think that anger still flows in our blood
education did dampen fraction of what it was
wish we could channel those anger helping others
poem by Manonton Dalan
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Seek the consequence
A sin is a sin that cannot be undone.
The pain caused by it is undone either.
No amount of measures can compensate it.
Wrong to one and good in return cannot.
Wrong to one and good to many cannot.
Wrong to one and then repentance cannot.
Sinning and praying gives you no escapes.
Sinning and serving gives you no clearance
A glass broken is broken; accept the loss.
A sin done is done; seek the consequence.
29.06.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Happiness defined.
Happiness is the feeling good,
A state where worry is absent.
Happiness is much sought after.
Happiness is the life's purpose.
To feed the senses gives happiness.
To feed ego gives happiness.
To spend libido gives happiness.
To feel safe also is happiness.
Let them come without prejudice
To the interest of others.
Discard such happiness that fails
In the conscience clearance.
Happiness that would accrue from
Showing mercy, giving pardon
And doing voluntary helps
Is higher as comes from goodwill.
23.04.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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6. A Change Required
I’m ready now to make a change
I’ve said it for so long
Time for life to rearrange
To right what’s going wrong
I took some paper and a pen
The ink began to flow
Changes what to do and when
Were laid out in a row
The first change made me tired
At the thought of so much toil
A whole house to rewire
Put the kettle on to boil
The second was to purchase paint
To brighten up the shed
This change left me feeling faint
I had a drink instead
The third change my appearance
Old threads were somewhat bare
Put wardrobe for a clearance
Now this one caused a scare
The final change was easy
That I must get out more
So I took off to the golf course
And hit my list for four.
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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Unfortunately times change
Unfortunately times change
and sometimes not for better
but for worse.
At state intitutions
you wait for hours
in one queue after the other
while highly incapable people
work at African time
where tomorrow is another day
and do not exactly know
how to solve problems
and call on superiors
one after the other
and it happened to me
that I had to collect
a tax clearance certificate
and after waiting
needlessly in three wrong queues
my temper was rising
and when I got
to the right location
a big notice on the wall said
that the taxman
honours your privacy
and do not give out
any information
to other people
and without a word
or any resistance
or any demand
to proof that I may act
on her behalf.
my girlfriend’s documents
was printed out
and handed to me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Clouded Sunshine Colors
Clouded sunshine colors
All their way around
Lost is lost it hollers
To again be found
Beautiful passing’s drifting
On to life ongoing motion
And my sprit uplifting
Like soft embellish potion
Sweetness of its high
Through mornings filling
In twilights goodbye
When the bright is willing
Its onward lightness
As it comes here thru
In the day’s up brightness
For each color true
Bringing on the sunshine
And giving time to see
Each perfect shaded line
That glimmer to the free
Mirror deep weaving
Thru the watery deeps
In its serene conceiving
That in clearance leaps
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Exit
I don't wish to have to think anymore,
I want to completely clear my mind,
So please close me down, that's for sure,
Switch me off, if you would be so inclined.
Let me have a clearance sale,
Everything in my head, must go,
Whatever the buyers want to nail,
Give it too them, I don't want to know.
My mind could be swept clean by a sudden gale,
Perhaps washed away in the river's flow,
Or my thoughts lashed flat by a shower of hail,
Then thrown high into an arched rainbow.
Let me in oblivion float,
Dulled and slowly lulled,
Until I couldn't care a groat, *
About my mind being finally annulled.
Dissolve, disband or abolish,
Any of those, I could prefer,
Or my mind just simply demolish,
So, to whom do I refer?
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Holy Jaunt
Two carpets, blue and black
Embroidered with sun and stars
Daily to fly to the divine destination
For me from this haven of mud
Jaunt of my joie de vivre intermitted shortly
Dieseled air and breath of bad people
Dirtied the carpets with dust and lust
Began the cleaning process to deterge
Down evacuated, up all the aqua
A volley of hydraulic pouring
Heavily beat and hammerded the carpets
Lines of clearance flashed now and then
Process over, brighter the carpets
Jiggling my joy resumed its soaring
To the interminable, untouched sanctum
The Holy Lord is supposedly dwelling
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Clock O Clock of Times
Hours of the night in their deep
Sinuous on and always flowing
Fog bound rhythm speeding keep
Their onward footsteps going
Yesterday is now becoming new
In the rushes hours gnawing on
Clearance of the daybreaks thru
Till old shadow’s dance are gone
In the litter of their lost time
Everything moves forward still
Eve goes and morning‘s in prime
Every opportunity to fulfill
Clock o clock of times keeping
Rushing hours thru to make more
All old of dust down sweeping
Opening up the pluviose door
So much in the moldering way
Like the cadences of fog bound
Coming thru but no time to stay
All’s going in the merry-go-round
Feelings lost in pacing’s to break
As this roadway leads to its side
New thoughts in moving uptake
Is there now time for some abide?
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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The Mighty Have To Fall
Purges are needed in a forest:
The strongest have to fall and com-bust.
In-order for the weakest the poorest
To grow - regenerate their lushness…
We need a whole new subsistence:
A grass blade a head of green corn!
Good footing in the sunlight's clearance.
The world isn't made-up of one 'Acorn'.
Purges are needed in a forest:
The mighty have to fall and crash!
'Burn and sacrifice' the strong the plumpest.
The best growth is made-out of potash.
Strangle like the forest-fig, let chaos...
Rule! As they did, but know, that the sun!
Shall shine that they'll lose their pathos?
And we'll renew our own fortune!
Purges are needed in a forest:
To make capital gains: We must digest...
Their corruption, topple the unjust…
Who, anoint to rule over us?
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Memory Lingers (Revised)
Compiled a ‘to do' list in a whirlwind start,
security took my fingerprints for clearance,
I'm vindicated, my existence has meaning,
I've just proved I'm me with qualifications
Friends vouched acquaintanceship, name &
ID of every family member; were I suffering
amnesia I could so easily look myself up - it
makes me feel brilliant - only thing lacking
Is a pharmacy full-colour passport photo,
then I can identify my face too; ‘Diamonds
Are Forever' James Bond could use my ID
and fingerprints to fool smugglers -
Really for a moment I am Jill St. John adding
‘Tiffany Case' to my extensive repertoire; how
can everyone bend over their desks in cool
concentration when so many whimsical
Dreams await to be dramatized - let me write
down my fantasy freed restraint then continue
in cold boredom afterwards - secure while the
memory lingers in my heart…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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A Border Ballad
OH, I haven't got long to live, for we all
Die soon, e'en those who live longest;
And the poorest and weakest are taking their chance
Along with the richest and strongest.
So it's heigho for a glass and a song,
And a bright eye over the table,
And a dog for the hunt when the game is flush.
And the pick of a gentleman's stable.
There is Dimmock o' Dune, he was here yesternight,
But he's rotting to-day on Glen Arragh;
'Twas the hand o' MacPherson that gave him the blow,
And the vultures shall feast on his marrow.
But it's heigho for a brave old song
And a glass while we are able;
Here's a health to death and another cup
To the bright eye over the table.
I can show a broad back and a jolly deep chest,
But who argues now on appearance?
A blow or a thrust or a stumble at best
May send me to-day to my clearance.
Then it's heigho for the things I love,
My mother'll be soon wearing sable,
But give me my horse and my dog and my glass,
And a bright eye over the table.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Time For Clearance
Time for Clearance
I was in Norway once, the paradise of social democracy,
I saw many beggars, mostly Roma people who
the inhabitant wanted to get rid of or send them out of
town in the woods where they were not seen. If you are
beggar you got to beg where the people are, foxes and
sheep and have nothing to give. There is a strong sense
of nationalism in Norway. The police did not hesitate to
round up Jews and send them to concentration, and when
the war was over most of the police officers continued in
their work upholding the law. Norway as a nation has never
looked at itself and taking tally of the nation´s behavior
during war years, instead it is lauding the few who resisted
the Nazi occupation and made them into icons. They shot
Quisling but it didn´t stop what made a quisling possible.
Still has not done so. Oil made Norway rich, yet there
is poverty amongst the low paid and incomers for whom
there is little charity. The dark side of Scandinavia- violence, -
hate against people who are different from them… those
who do not fit into the nice, but untrue picture the country
have of herself.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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