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The conquerors are kings; the defeated are bandits.
The bandits in the mountain are easily subjected, but it is difficult to subject the bandits in my heart.
Religion is the organization of spirituality into something that became the hand maiden of conquerors. Nearly all religions were brought to people and imposed on people by conquerors, and used as the framework to control their minds.
quote by John Henrik Clarke
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beaten To The Punch
You say that you can and then you run to get your mummy
And youre almost beaten to the punch
Looking for the man who sold you the dummy
And youre almost beaten to the punch
Laughing at the older guys who say its just as well
Saved by the wedding bell
Almost beaten to the punch
Youre looking for somebody new that you can knock around
You are almost beaten to the punch
If youve got a head for figures then youd better count me out
You were almost beaten to the punch
You pulled the piece but you soon called it love
You go hand in glove
Almost beaten to the punch
Your body speaks much louder than your voice
You let it do the talking so I dont have any choice
Now you find the younger guys are putting up resistance
And youre almost beaten to the punch
You better get out now because youll never go the distance
And youre almost beaten to the punch
Youll find a girl and youll promise her anything
Even a wedding ring
Almost beaten to the punch
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All The Kings Horses
All the kings horses and all the kings men
Couldnt put me back together again
My heart lies in pieces all over the ground
Whos gonna help me when youre not around
And I know inside me ,that nobody cares
Whatever happens to me
I live my life as a plea
All the kings horses and all the kings men
Couldnt put me back together again
I was in love when I sat on my wall
No one could hurt me , no one at all
And I know that somewhere my love walked away
She threw my love to the sky
Nothing to do but to cry
All the kings horses and all the kings men
Couldnt put me back together again
All the kings horses , all the kings horses
All the kings horses , all the kings horses
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Which Plagues the History Bandits
The History Bandits swinging...
Swinging in History roll.
Up comes one leader,
Ousted or assassinated by another.
The complaints of many
Feeding the avarice of one,
Makes the humdrum into history.
An idealist Wilson, a vengeful Clemenceau or
A prudent Lloyd George...who wishes to know?
The inspiring evil Hitler or politically capitalistic Americans
Or the fearless bloody Communists...
Mould the mounds of history.
A guilty country pleading innocence,
A Rasputinian government brought down by Rasputin
Or a prince who fashioned the legends of the creatures that
Plague the human existence.
What makes History?
Of what use is History?
The questions that plague the History Bandits.
Take up the sword of ink,
Oil the wheels that turn in your head,
And ponder anew on the questions that
Makes you wonder.
Go forth the History Bandits...
Go forth, and claim your rightful path.
poem by Cheryl Jacob
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Woman, Made a Punching Bag of Man
A woman, beaten by the cruel hands of her man
Beaten as she raises her voice to challenge his words
Beaten as she goes out to celebrate her freedom
Beaten as she refuses to do what he orders and wants.
And the battered woman accepts her tragic lot
Bearing the marks of violence on her own body
Longing for golden days of love and romance
Lamenting on her destiny as punching bag of man.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When the Kings Went to War
When the kings went to war
Went to war
Went to war
When the kings went to war
I stayed home.
Now the kings have returned
Some have died
Most alive
Now the kings have returned
And I'm alone.
Who to tell
How to say
All that happened in the days
When the kings went to war
While I stayed home.
Oh the battles
Oh the hell
Not of war but worse
The well-kept secrets crying
To be known.
Knocks the door
Comes before
Nathan knows and he will tell
How the king failed to war
When he stayed home.
When the kings went to war
Went to war
Went to war
When the kings went to war
I stayed home.
A Song of Failure
HERE is my hand to you, brother,
You of the ruck who have failed
I, too, am only another
Fighter who faltered and quailed.
Now with my courage for token
Here to grim Fate I give tithe;
I, too, am beaten and broken,
Lying, the swath of the scythe!
We to the conquerors' seeming
Crouch, an incongruous horde—
Fighters, enmeshed in their dreaming,
Dreamers who girl on the sword,
Weaklings with splendid ambitions,
Heroes who learnt to succumb,
Poets a-swoon in their visions,
Singers with ecstasy dumb.
Failed! So we cast off our burden,
Done with our doubts and our fears:
These we have won for our guerdon—
Pity and tears—women's tears!
You with your conquests unending
Dwell from a woman apart;
Only the humble and bending
Learn the low door to her heart.
We that lie dumb in your scorning
Made you the heroes you are,
Built you a road to the morning,
Taught you to reach for a star:
We have had sight of the glory,
Pointed it clear to the blind;
Yours is the conquerors' story,
Ours is the vision you find.
Here is no dread and no grieving;
Over us hurtles the fray,
Is yours a Heav'n worth achieving,
If it be stormed in a day?
Here is this world we must live in—
Little to lose or to gain;
More is it worth to have striven
Than in the end to attain.
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All The Kings Horses
All the kings horse and all the kings men
They couldnt put my broken heart back together again.
I woke up this mornin that this is what I found.
You had gone and left me,
Any you never even made a farewell sound.
All the kings horse and all the kings men
They couldnt put my broken heart back together again.
I asked my friends about you and this is what they said,
She can live without you,
Shes gonna find a man with money instead.
All the kings horse and all the kings men
They couldnt put my broken heart back together again.
Someday you will know, the meaning of a love thats true.
But when you find out I wont be around to share it with you.
All the kings horse and all the kings men
They couldnt put my broken heart back together again.
All the kings horse and all the kings men
They couldnt put my broken heart back together again.
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beaten Into Sweetness
Beaten into sweetness.
Like grapes to produce,
A fine wine sipped.
Beaten into sweetness.
To allure and maintain,
A sizable profit held in a firm fist.
And every whiff of it sniffed,
Satisfied to the very last drop.
Beaten into sweetness.
Although a sadness carried,
Inside would not stop!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All The Kings Horses
(unknown)
Mmm, my friends keep telling me to pull myself together
They try to cheer my up but its not gettin better
They say that time will pass and Ill love again some day
But time is standing still ever since you went away
Now, all the kings horses and all the kings men
Youll never get me back together again
cause I just fall apart each time I look at you
No, all the kings and all the kings men
Are never gonna make me smile again
How can I smile just knowin youre with somebody new? , ooh
You had my hopes so high I guess they had to tumble
And when you left my dream my world began to crumble
No woman ever found the only missing part
When you left me behind dont you know you took my heart?
Now, all the kings horses and all the kings men
Youll never get me back together again
cause I just fall apart each time I look at you, yes I do, now
All the kings and all the kings men
Youre never gonna make me smile again
How can I smile just knowin youre with somebody new? , ooh, yeah, ooh, ahh, ha
All the kings horses and all the kings men
Youll never get me back together again
cause I just fall apart each time I look at you, yes I do
I said, all the kings and all the kings men
Are never gonna make me smile again
How can I smile just knowing youre with somebody new? , yeah
All the kings horses and all the kings men
Youll never get me back together again
And I just fall apart each time
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Opinion
There is no truth of any good
To be discerned on earth ; and, by conversion,
Nought therefore simply bad; but as the stuff
Prepared for Arras pictures, is no picture
Till it be formed, and man hath cast the beams
Of his imaginous fancy thorough it,
In forming ancient kings and conquerors
As he conceives they looked and were attired,
Though they were nothing so: so all things here
Have all their price set down from men's conceits,
Which make all terms and actions good or bad,
And are but pliant and well-coloured threads
Put into feigned images of truth.
poem by George Chapman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm a Kings Daughter
I'm a Kings daughter
I'm a Kings daughter
I'm a Kings daughter
I
am one of the redeemed children of the King
why can't all the children come together under one name
to feed the hungry and suffering at home first
and abroad?
as children of the exquisitely Perfect King Of Kings
we should, if we can why don't we?
I'm a Kings child, one of many...
poem by Sylvia Loven Carter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who’ll Wear the Beaten Colours?
Who’ll wear the beaten colours—and cheer the beaten men?
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, till our time comes again?
Where sullen crowds are densest, and fickle as the sea,
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, and wear them home with me?
We closed the bars and gambling dens and voted straight and clean,
Our women walked while motor cars were whirling round the scene,
The Potts Point Vote was one for Greed and Ease and Luxury
With all to hold, and coward gold, and beaten folk are we.
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, with hands and pockets clean?
(I wore the beaten colours since I was seventeen)
I wore them up, and wore them down, Outback and across the sea—
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, and wear them home with me?
We wore them back from Ladysmith to where the peace was signed,
And wore them through the London streets where Jingoes howled behind.
We wore them to the Queen’s Hall, while England yelled “Pro-Boers!”
And sat them over victory while London banged the doors.1
We wore them from Port Arthur round till all sunk in the sea—
(Who’ll wear the white man’s colours, and wear them home with me?)
I’ve worn them through with gentlemen, with work-slaves and alone—
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, boys, and wear them on his own?
There’s one would look with startled eyes and shrink while I caressed,
Came I not with the colours of the conquered on my breast.
And twenty thousand Bushmen would stand with hands behind
And scorn in all their faces for the coward of his kind.
Who’ll wear the beaten colours and raise the voice they drowned—
It may be when we march again, they’ll bear some other sound—
Who’ll pin the beaten colours on and drive the beaten pen—
It may be other steel and ink when we march out again.
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We are beaten, we will make no bones about it; but we are not too badly beaten still to fight.
quote by James Larkin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A chief is a man who assumes responsibility. He says ""I was beaten,"" he does not say ""My men were beaten"".
quote by Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He who is not beaten by the sun or the rain, will eventually be beaten by the hunger.
One may as well be well beaten as badly beaten.
Benson, you are so free of the ravages of intelligence
quote by Time Bandits
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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