Why is it the Mongols of this world always tell us they're defending us against the Mongols?
quote by Edward Whittemore
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Baghdad is determined to force the Mongols of our age to commit suicide at its gates.
quote by Saddam Hussein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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SEE YOU IN SIBERIA too
See you in Siberia
The nomads are waiting: the Yenets dancing on the sleeping land,
the Nenets are bringing their cats with kittens,
The Huns are not longer in their fighting mood
The Iranian Scythians are making kites for the winds in the snow
The Turkic Uyghurs are playing their flutes.
Let us remember the Khan of Sibir in Tobolks
who endorsed the Kubrat as Khagan in Avaria.
Be glad, Aldo, for the Mongols are gone.
Come summer, read those poems.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tale Of Violins
The Mongols used the hair of horses’ tails
to make the ancestors of bows of violins
which move across the strings when playing scales
like fish that skim through water with their fins.
Music that’s the food of love has forces
which move men with its airs, all made of Luft,
to love far more than any long-maned horses,
as I do, lucky Luftmensch who's not hoofed.
Edward Rothstein writes about horses in the NYT, May 16,2008 (“Man’s Best Friend, Hoofed Division”) :
Without horses, where would we be? Trousers might never have become fashionable. The violin might never have come into existence. The Aztecs might have thrived another few centuries. The Industrial Revolution might have sputtered out before its time. No one would have to get off his high horse, and no political race would have a dark horse candidate. And the American Museum of Natural History would have had to find another subject for its sprawling, charming and illuminating exhibition that is opening on Saturday: “The Horse.” The opening festivities will include demonstrations of horseshoeing and horse grooming; an appearance by Thumbelina, a creature billed as the world’s smallest horse (17 1/2 inches tall) : and a visit by a vintage horse-drawn ambulance. But the exhibition itself relies far less on country fair spectacle and far more on a provocative history of the ways in which humans and horses became, as the show says, “powerfully linked.” Those links may be as slight as fashions in clothing (trousers, we are told, developed specifically for the riding of horses) and as important as the fate of empires (“Next to God, ” Cortés is supposed to have said about the conquest of Mexico, “we owed our victory to the horses”) . The exhibition is suggestive about the evolution of the arts. (The 13th- and 14th-century Mongols, who held their immense empire together with the aid of the horse, also used hair from its tail to create the ancestor of the modern violin bow.) And it invites speculation about the course of technology. (The Industrial Revolution ultimately displaced horse power with horsepower, but not before horses shared the burden with machines: on display is a horse-drawn, steam-powered firetruck from 19th-century Pennsylvania.)
5/16/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Museum of Culture
Preserving the culture has been like the tusk of mastodons,
This is only suitable for preserving in the billiard balls,
Sustaining the culture has been like the extinct saber truth,
That is only suitable for experimental use.
Other customs are influencing on the real ones,
Like Mongols of east, east culture is ruling west,
And, as barbarians of west, west cultures have come to east,
So, preserving it has been a museum’s job.
In the show case of museum our tradition is seeing the change,
Youth are busy copying other’s tradition,
All are getting puzzled in culture,
Can’t we once again retain our own ethnicity?
The clear answer I hear is ‘no’.
Thanks to Museum of culture which is dong it.
poem by Sambidhan Acharya
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If we cling to the institution of Islam, then we tend to defend it against whatever we see as a danger to it, so because of this we see now that many people are defending states, defending territories, defending everything institutional in the belief that they defend Islam.
quote by Abdurrahman Wahid
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Trail of Tears
You have the trail
but where are the tears?
No idea?
You are not that interested in tears
of those who had trodden the trail
from Georgia to Oklahoma
with little to eat or to clothe themselves
Might have seen hundreds and thousands of dead corpses
lying on the outskirts of the trail
with lice and bugs eating their flesh
The winter cold is so harsh
the blanket that they were wearing with bare feet
won't keep them warm
and What about the US army soldiers
once in a while raiding the folks
with a bundle of babies and little kids
they have to survive the long walks and the
cold and the starvation
to look for the place they can call home
for their homes were ripped by the white
government,
they still hold the hopes that they will regain
their land and home back
just like the Jews on exile to the Babylonia
for 70 long years they were away from home
lost their kings and princes and wishing only
to return home for those 70 years
What sins did these Indian tribes commit
to deserve this kind of treatment
giving away their lands and their homes
and on the road half fall dead
half of the half fell sick and
with no food to feed them
no water to cleanse them
but the endless walks bare footed?
O how painful it must have been only
to be a part of the American scene
Who cursed these people not God definitely
for they were good to the new comers with
their usual hospitality and generosity
but they were awaiting for the whites
to arrive in their land and make it blossom
with new civilization, and they knew when the whites
arrived these were the people they had been waiting for
centuries and they treated them nice and generously
but the result
The tribes must extinct and vanish for the whites
will take over their land as it was destined to
they killed numerous Indian babies
poisoned the water and plagued their blankets with germs
and disease viruses so the tribes could go dead
unnoticed and they did that with vehemence and
systematically.
That Andrew Jackson dude is now taking the tribal lands
and casts the inhabitants from those lands
to hit the road the trail the trail of tears
but where are the tears they shed on the trail?
Does anyone care?
Indian tribes still claim their sovereignty
and claim an independent nationhood
for the US government has not kept their words
and promises, no more of being cheated
and fooled, that is what these people decided to do
an independent nation Indian nation in the nation of the USA
That's quite pathetic because they still have to live on
government stipends and welfare money to the reservation
though the old Indian Bureau was putting most of the
goods and money coming to the tribes into their own pocket
Does anyone care what these people are doing and
how they are all along?
We see them on the Western movies keep dying
shot to death and fall from the horses they were riding on
Their bison were the main food channel but
the US government knew so well if the bison go away
the tribes will also vanish
Out of the tears and suffering of the Indian nations
came and rose the great nation THE United States of America
But no one pays much attention to how these
robbed people of their land and their cultures live
In the back of the mind of every Americans
history stays alive and we all know what happened
yet nobody says anything about them, no advocates want
work for these people the Mongols
the grand history of Genghis Khan and his conquer of the
entire world including Europe to make people tremble
with fear on hearing his name only
but the descendents of the Mongols are only
humiliated by the word 'Mongoloid' the retarded
with flat nose and flat facial structure
in Special Education,
No, the Mongols are not mongoloid the retarded
They were warriors and soldiers who roamed
the entire world Asian, Middle Eastern, European and Egyptian
in the olden days yeah, that was a long gone days
but the spirit of these warriors still remain
in every lands streams and hill sides of the
American landscape I could feel it when I was there
those places in USA were covered with the Spirits
that is inherent in every US citizens
though they didn't know it and still don't know it
but I could see it could feel it and
experienced
The legendary Mongol warrior spirit was embodied
in the American landscape and fields and mountains
and forests and animals and the people too.
These spirits help the nation US be strong mighty and wise
like the inhabitants the people of the USA.
4: 48 pm
(December 3,2012) Korea-Japan Time
poem by Sangnam Nam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song of the Bowmen of Shu
Here we are, picking the first fern-shoots
And saying: When shall we get back to our country?
Here we are because we have the Ken-nin for our foemen,
We have no comfort because of these Mongols.
We grub the soft fern-shoots,
When anyone says "Return," the others are full of sorrow.
Sorrowful minds, sorrow is strong, we are hungry and thirsty.
Our defence is not yet made sure, no one can let his friend return.
We grub the old fern-stalks.
We say: Will we be let to go back in October?
There is no ease in royal affairs, we have no comfort.
Our sorrow is bitter, but we would not return to our country.
What flower has come into blossom?
Whose chariot? The General's.
Horses, his horses even, are tired. They were strong.
We have no rest, trhee battles a month.
By heavn, his horses are tired.
The generals are on them, the soldiers are by them.
The horses are well trained, the generals have ivory arrows and
quivers ornamented with fish-skin.
The enemy is swift, we must be careful.
When we set out, the willows were drooping with spring,
We come back in the snow,
We go slowly, we are hungry and thirsty,
Our mind is full of sorrow, who will know of our grief?
By Bunno, reputedly 1100 B. C.
poem by Ezra Pound
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Attila
He's ruled them for 20 years
And ravaged as their king
Conquest burns in his eyes
And ice shoots through his veins
Their leader's new ambition lies
Farther to the west
The empire that he seeks
The farther to the rest
Attila wants to take his place
Like the impetuous son
To make the entire world bow
To the kingdom of the huns
Alliance has been made
With many others clans
Frank and Vandal forces
Held within his hand
And by Attila's hand it's said
His brother met with death
To make his rule his legacy
He did his awful best
Ethele and Etzell
By many names he's known
But "scourge of god" is the one
That rings the darkest tone
Chorus
Hell awaits behind gaul's gates
The romans stand only to fall
They will die by his sword
The barbarian Lord
Attila hears victory call
Bridge
(Huns)
Path of fire and plunder
Cities burn and crumble
Attila's fate beckons
He will come to conquer
(Romans)
Archers stand at ready
Centurions all together
Keep to your lines
And the mongols sure to falter
(Huns)
We will surely break them
We will overtake them
Fight till our deaths
Or the Christians' devastation
(Romans)
They won't overthrow us
God Will stand before us
Show us the path to the huns destruction
Sing to the sky, the battle cry
To propagate their fear
As terror is the weapon drawn
When battle has drawn near
And so the conflict is at hand
The gauntlet has been thrown
Contempt for the Christian reign
This poison seed now sewn
And if by chance all is lost
Cut down by roman steel
We'll suffer not as others have
Broken mind nor broken will
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Iced Earth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We As Soldiers
They was not born onto this world
to fight a war and lose their lives.
But they did fight a war, and did lose their lives
And it was done to protect you and I.
Now you may think of it as insignificant
Because it is not a family member or friend
But if they died defending your liberties
Then they are family and friends
And can not be with you till the end.
It was that soldier who was on land
Air, or the sea, defending your
rights so that you can be free.
Free to have the freedom of speech
And voice your opinion and beliefs.
And like all things, there is a price
That we must pay for that privilege.
It may be a lost arm, or leg, or an eye
But don’t worry they’ll get by.
They have the perseverance of their convictions
And will not let anything stand in their way
And if it means being in a foxhole, then
That is where they’ll stay.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Defending The Nonexistence
I've never allowed myself to be in a position,
To refute or disprove anything questioned.
I don't kneel behind walls from which to peek.
And defending insecurities...
Taught me a lesson as a child.
Don't do it.
Why insist something does not exist,
By defending the nonexistence of it?
It makes no sense to persist in nonsense.
And eventually weakens a false integrity...
One keeps under wraps and ego feeds.
Or tries by disguising in masquerade,
Something kept left to be discreet.
I've learned...
An awakening can not prevent,
The seeing through to the truth of things.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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0417 To a Small-part Actress in the Drama of My life
Shall I compare thee to...a winter's night? ...I wish
I knew what so provokes...
is it me, is it you, is it us?
I try from time to time, to start afresh,
make overtures; but it's just like
a brick wall in the mind; as if forever you're defending
some unspoken matter from attack,
and so we all unwillingly take on the role
of chosen enemies.
What, behind this unexplained brick wall,
are you defending? So that every conversation
feels as if there's someone out there marking, like a boxing ring,
points scored? Even when you walk in through
the office door, it's like a challenge to a world
who handicapped you long before the start - so now
even your beautiful and natural blonde hair,
always so perfectly groomed and shaped and held,
seems to growl a challenge...but to whom?
I wish I knew - just for the sake, at first, of knowing;
and then, who knows, I might even sorrow for
that which so corsets all that yearns to yield...maybe;
and even love you for yourself...
but I think what really riles my man-mean mind
is that you behave as if, despite all this,
you've not a single enemy in the world...
that I find difficult to forgive...
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tired of being here
I'm so tired of being here
thinking that something good is near.
Why must I keep pretending that everything's okay?
Why must I keep defending, every good that fades away.
There is no hope here on earth.
Some of us people don't even know how much we are worth.
We feel so hopeless because we want to help.
we can't change the world no matter how heart-felt.
Because some of us love God,
Many people who don't believe consider us frauds.
We only try to show the truth,
but their hate is nothing new.
Everyone wants to blame Godfor their sorry screwed up lives,
and what they don't understand is that withouth him... Nothing changes.
I'm so tired of being here
thinking that something good is near.
Why must I keep pretending that everything's okay?
Why must I keep defending, every good that fades away.
I defend the good because it take a true Christian to stand up for Christ!
Although I want to quit...I can't. Because I love God and I will die trying to
save people from the fires of hell, because God loves them.
And anyone who reads this. He loves you too!
poem by Garnett Angel Loving Soul
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the long history of the world, only a few generations have been granted the role of defending freedom in its hour of maximum danger. I do not shrink from this responsibility-I welcome it.
quote by John F. Kennedy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the long history of the world, only a few generations have been granted the role of defending freedom in its hour of maximum danger. I do not shrink from this responsibility - I welcome it.
quote by John F. Kennedy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Beauty Of Being In The World Jan.9,2009
THE BEAUTY OF BEING IN THE WORLD Jan.9 2009
The Beauty of being in the world,
The Beauty of Seeing,
The Beauty of these grey skies and small rain,
The Beauty of this park in all its greens.
The Beauty of morning Jerusalem light.
And three young soldiers
Killed yesterday
Defending Israel,
Ro’i Rosner 27, of Holon,
Omer Rabinovitch 23 of Arad,
Amit Robinson 20 of Kibbutz Magal,
Who will never see this Beauty again.
The Beauty of Being in the world
And I sixty- six years old, and more.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chickenman
I am an only child
Born of the wild
Riddled to spend my time
Defending my land
You are the only one
Born in the sun
Riddled to spend your time
Defending my plan
Dead dog on the highway
Median cats are growling at me
I turn my lights on brighter
Im counting through the night ride
And its one more life for the taker
Chickenman chickenman
One more song for the maker
Chickenman chickenman
On the road to athens
I saw a dead deer on the highway
I slipped into a desert
Five prairie dogs and a rabbit
I was running down on queen street
I saw a woman on the sidewalk
(danger danger)
She was beaten by a stranger
(danger danger danger danger)
Danger danger danger
And its one more life for the taker
Chickenman chickenman
Chickenman hold my hand
One more song for the maker
Hold my hand
Chickenman
I was on the road to austin
Met a man on the highway
He sold me junk and conversation
He was wise and dirty from the weather
I said darkness into darkness
All the carnage of my journeys
Makes it harder to be living
He said its a long road to be forgiven
One more life for the taker
Chickenman chickenman
Chickenman hold my had
One more song for the maker
Chickenman chickenman
Chickenman hold my hand
I am an only child
Born of the wild
Riddled to spend my time
Defending my land
You are the only one
Born in the sun
Riddled to spend your time
Defending my plan
I went looking for a car
Found myself beneath the stars
I went looking for a girl
Found a man and his world
Chickenman chickenman
(I went looking for a car)
Chickenman hold my hand
(found myself beneath the stars)
Chickenman chickenman
(I went looking for a girl)
Chickenman hold my hand
(found a man and his world)
I am an only child
(chickenman chickenman)
(chickenman hold my hand)
Hold my hand
(chickenman chickenman)
(chickenman hold my hand)
I am an only child
(chickenman chickenman)
(chickenman hold my hand)
Hold my hand
(chickenman chickenman)
(chickenman hold my hand)
Chickenman chickenman
Chickenman hold my hand
Chickenman chickenman
Chickenman hold my hand
Chickenman chickenman
Chickenman hold my hand
Chickenman chickenman
Chickenman hold my hand
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At what cost shall we sink?
Exalted Queen, Lady in White
Remain faceless until the time comes to rise
Within the solitude of our silence
We expose our defences to propositions that we
We would given the chance, never see through.
As each doorway lends itself to confusion.
Whatever happened to the world our forefathers founded?
The world our ancestors were caged for defending.
Where were their ideals lost?
Avalon? Babylon? Atlantis?
At what cost shall we sink?
poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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American Dream
“American Dream”
Attention all able body masses that focus on verbal harasses
Racism is donating get out of jail free passes
To the whites in denial and even the blacks who are holy
All you got to do is wrestle a book open like Mick Foley
And achieve the American Dream of being free
So that maybe you men might be able to take your wife on a shopping spree
But as for me I’m stuck being a Chad-moru born of sackies
Unable to support President Bush’s decision to bomb Iraqis
For like Martin Luther King, I have been trying to beat racism’s team
To ensure that no colored person ends up on the flip-side of the American Dream
A saying from James Adam that states equality will be given to every culture or race
Yet why is it such a big disgrace to be born from my birthplace
A place were different repercussions are taken to the same simple laws
A land were like caged dogs, I have been trying to dig an escape with my bare paws
Burrowing away from the earthquake of the Queen’s son
Flying sky high to avoid the tsunami of the rising sun
While knowing that it’s inevitable to stop the President’s nuclear invasion
For we were tricked by their greedy persuasion on more then one occasion
And like the Jews we had a holocaust of our own
But unlike them our barons left us to fight alone
To be slaughtered, ridiculed, and gunned down
Burned, bombed, and almost made into a ghost town
Continuously bleeding not for revenge or love but for greed
Until those Mongols decided it was time for us to be freed
Celebrating the liberation with a big feast
Not knowing that in the future they would have a gradual growing number of deceased
From poverty, to gang violence, to disease, to military death
For the Chamoru holocaust still continues to take away its victims last breath
Yet others and most Chamoru’s don’t even know about these events
And even me, I have learned about these issues in small segments
Because I believe in the saying that one individual can do great things
But in reality it takes more then one person to overthrow or even surpass kings
poem by Poetic Philosopher
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My Sister
My sister is
The gravity to my Universe
She pulls me toward her
With irresistible charm and charisma
My sister is
The most important person in the world
She cares more about others than herself
If she wanted to, she could create world peace
My sister is
An animal lover in the extreme
With tender love and care;
Her instruments of healing
My sister is
The one person I would kill for
The only person who is worth everything
The inspiration to do better
My sister is
The person who makes me a better person
Saving the world one way or another
And defending others with her last breath
My sister is
The most sympathetic and loving
And the one person I couldn't bear to part with
The one that I would defend with my life
poem by Gwenevere Cornwell
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(Grateful Poem) A Hero's Ending
Yes indeed credit is never given where it should.
Especially when come to things of the good.
Even more is his worthiness of appreciation he constantly denies.
To live his life the best he can is all he tries.
The skies take these hero's quite frequently unnoticed.
To heaven they go by making a last stand.
In honor we should demand.
A remembrance never to be remembered.
No matter if it is a violent or a happy ending.
Somethings in this world are worth defending.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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