More people are slain by supper than by the sword.
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Persian Sword
With sword I've slain
In the realm of dreams
You have tried to inject your venom
Through snakes guns and knives
Each time I've slain you
Still you creep from the darkness of your soul
And come back for more
I've tried to win you over
In so many ways
Still you're green with jealousy
Pretending to be a friend
In the realm of dreams
Your wicked smile resembles
That of the snake slithering
Through the window
I've slain you then
I can it again
You must have realized by now
Your poisonous bite
Guns and knives
And with your coiled squeeze
That I do not fear you
I am much stronger than I've ever been
Whatever light I saw inside you
Was overpowered by the darkness
Of your soul
So with my Persian sword
I will behead you
Until you return no more
RM
03: 05: 12
poem by Persian Khushi
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Today... 'The Glorious Sword
There is a Sword that is so sharp and so keen
the most Glorious Sword that has ever been.
Mighty in battle He has slain all His foes
and will have victory wherever He goes.
The Word of Truth and the Sword of the Spirit
overcame death and shall all things inherit.
He breaks our shackles and scatters all His foes
with His glory heaven and earth overflows.
Christ the Son of God is that Glorious Sword
Saviour of the world and Everlasting Lord.
Devils fear and angels sing as He draws near
And all creation waits for Him to appear.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
Suppertime
Supper time
I should set the table
cause its supper time
Somehow Im not able
cause that man omine
Aint comin home no more
Supper time
Kids will soon be yellin
For their supper time
Howll I keep from tellin
Them that man omine
Aint comin home no more?
Howll I keep explainin when they ask me where hes gone?
Howll I keep from cryin when I bring their supper on?
How can I remind them to pray at their humble board?
How can I be thankful when they start to thank the lord
Lord!
Supper time
I should set the table
cause its supper time
Somehow Im not able
cause that man omine
Aint comin home no more
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Suppertime
Supper time
I should set the table
cause its supper time
Somehow Im not able
cause that man omine
Aint comin home no more
Supper time
Kids will soon be yellin
For their supper time
Howll I keep from tellin
Them that man omine
Aint comin home no more?
Howll I keep explainin when they ask me where hes gone?
Howll I keep from cryin when I bring their supper on?
How can I remind them to pray at their humble board?
How can I be thankful when they start to thank the lord
Lord!
Supper time
I should set the table
cause its supper time
Somehow Im not able
cause that man omine
Aint comin home no more
song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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St. John
John was bad he gave it everything he had
John he prayed for all the people ever made
John was cool he never did no afterschool
late at night when he praised the lord
he laid his hand down upon the sword
lay down upon the sword
lay down upon the sword
lay down upon the sword
lay down your bloody sword
John St. John be cool
tell the people they'll follow you
John St. John be cool
tell the people they'll follow you
late at night when he praised the lord
he lay his hands down upon the bloody sword
laid down upon the sword
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The mighty coward
He was called the king of zanga,
his physique so built he's glaring with danger.
He lost his banter, now frowning with fire
his eyes red and strong, he's glowing with anger.
He found great pleasure in oppressing the weak,
they tremble in fear, for he threatens to kill.
He was seen as a mighty warlord,
for he was good with the sword.
He goes all over impossing fear.
wherever he goes, he lives a sign of death.
His palace is filled with skulls
of those slain by his sword,
and he smiles with bliss after tasting their blood.
But soon after, his rulling days were ended
for he became a coward in the sight of death.
He lost courage at the battle field,
his hands trembling, losing his sword.
His mighty heart had fled,
his terror rage quenched.
He saw a warrior like beast and was scared
trying to run, his head was cut off from his neck.
Now the great terror is no more,
for hiss terror days was ended on the battle field.
The mighty warrioir died a mighty coward,
for his fear got him slain by that warrior like beast.
poem by Randy Micheal
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Great discomfort arises from too hearty a supper: if you would enjoy a tranquil sleep let your supper be a light one.
Who Is Mightier
there was fight between two heavy weights
i am pride of many warriors
i am sign of bravery
i am used to protect people
i am nightmare to my enemies
i am sword
there comes his counter part
so what you are pride of many kings
you are responsible for blood shed
you are responsible for violence
you kill innocent people
i can do what you cannot do
i can educate people
i am inspiration of many genius people
in this way pen defeated sword
poem by Rohan Bendre
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Macdonough's Song
Whether the State can loose and bind
In Heaven as well as on Earth:
If it be wiser to kill mankind
Before or after the birth--
These are matters of high concern
Where State-kept schoolmen are;
But Holy State (we have lived to learn)
Endeth in Holy War.
Whether The People be led by The Lord,
Or lured by the loudest throat:
If it be quicker to die by the sword
Or cheaper to die by vote--
These are things we have dealt with once,
(And they will not rise from their grave)
For Holy People, however it runs,
Endeth in wholly Slave.
Whatsoever, for any cause,
Seeketh to take or give
Power above or beyond the Laws,
Suffer it not to live!
Holy State or Holy King--
Or Holy People's Will--
Have no truck with the senseless thing.
Order the guns and kill!
Saying --after--me:--
Once there was The People--Terror gave it birth;
Once there was The People and it made a Hell of Earth.
Earth arose and crushed it. Listen, O ye slain!
Once there was The People--it shall never be again!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Sword Of Mine
The Sword that I carry
Though made not of iron or steel,
It is a mighty sword
That I proudly do so wield.
Though it wont break the skin
Or combat the weapons of a foe
But this is a mighty sword of mine
More precious than silver or gold.
This sword that I carry
I proudly display it in my hand,
For I know this sword of mine
Is greater, than any other mans.
It comforts me when I am tired
It will warm me when I am cold
It will lie down beside of me
To protect, and strengthen my soul.
The sword that I hold
Is tattered, and so very worn
It has been a friend along side of me,
In the sunshine and many storms.
It has shown me a path to follow
And has lit the road that I walk,
And those nights when I was alone and scared
Then to me, I could hear it talk.
The sword that I wield
Though may be different, in shape or size,
But it is the same sword
Which for years has cushioned the souls cry.
It has been here since the dawn of time
And will be here when the great walls fall,
And then when all men of war and hate reflect,
My sword, will be the mightiest sword of all.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Supper is taken
One’s supper is mere bread
That he takes at home.
The other’s is rich pudding
That he gets at home.
Both return home for supper;
Both sleep with their wives.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Concerning Emperors
I. GOD SEND THE REGICIDE
Would that the lying rulers of the world
Were brought to block for tyrannies abhorred.
Would that the sword of Cromwell and the Lord,
The sword of Joshua and Gideon,
Hewed hip and thigh the hosts of Midian.
God send that ironside ere tomorrow's sun;
Let Gabriel and Michael with him ride.
God send the Regicide.
II. A COLLOQUIAL REPLY: TO ANY NEWSBOY
If you lay for Iago at the stage door with a brick
You have missed the moral of the play.
He will have a midnight supper with Othello and his wife.
They will chirp together and be gay.
But the things Iago stands for must go down into the dust:
Lying and suspicion and conspiracy and lust.
And I cannot hate the Kaiser (I hope you understand.)
Yet I chase the thing he stands for with a brickbat in my hand.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Well He Slumbers, Greatly Slain
Well he slumbers, greatly slain,
Who in splendid battle dies;
Deep his sleep in midmost main
Pillowed upon pearl who lies.
Ease, of all good gifts the best,
War and wave at last decree:
Love alone denies us rest,
Crueller than sword or sea.
poem by William Watson
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So long as man remains free he strives for nothing so incessantly and so painfully as to find something to worship...What is essential is that all may be together in it. The craving for community worship is the chief misery of...all humanity. For the sake of common worship they've slain each other with the sword.
quote by Dostoyevsky
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Last Supper
They are assembled, astonished and disturbed
round him, who like a sage resolved his fate,
and now leaves those to whom he most belonged,
leaving and passing by them like a stranger.
The loneliness of old comes over him
which helped mature him for his deepest acts;
now will he once again walk through the olive grove,
and those who love him still will flee before his sight.
To this last supper he has summoned them,
and (like a shot that scatters birds from trees)
their hands draw back from reaching for the loaves
upon his word: they fly across to him;
they flutter, frightened, round the supper table
searching for an escape. But he is present
everywhere like an all-pervading twilight-hour.
[On seeing Leonardo da Vinci's "Last Supper", Milan 1904.]
Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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Bhutto R.i.p.
Another mother/goddess slain
Election she’d won, it's plain
Slain by zealot gone insane
Bloody end to her campaign
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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The Greek National Anthem
We knew thee of old,
Oh divinely restored,
By the light of thine eyes
And the light of thy Sword.
From the graves of our slain
Shall thy valour prevail
As we greet thee again --
Hail, Liberty! Hail!
Long time didst thou dwell
Mid the peoples that mourn,
Awaiting some voice
That should bid thee return.
Ah, slow broke that day
And no man dared call,
For the shadow of tyranny
Lay over all:
And we saw thee sad-eyed,
The tears on thy cheeks
While thy raiment was dyed
In the blood of the Greeks.
Yet, behold now thy sons
With impetuous breath
Go forth to the fight
Seeking Freedom or Death.
From the graves of our slain
Shall thy valour prevail
As we greet thee again
Hail, Liberty! Hail!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Shoe-Size
Please, try to tell me your shoe-size next time;
For there is something in the soup!
Cop, coop!
Lop, loop!
Desert, dessert!
Super, supper!
Upper, supper;
Upon the muse of love and of the muse of peace! !
But, this is all about your shoe-size.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Gates Of Valhalla
Valhalla the gods await me
Open wide thy gates embrace me.
Great hall of the battle slain
With sword in hand.
All those who stand on shore
Raise high your hands to bid a last
farewell to the Viking land.
Death's chilling wind blows through my hair
I'm now immortal
song performed by by Manowar from Into Glory Ride
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Marriage Supper
To the man and his wives,
To the woman and her husband,
A white horse of words to lead the way;
But faithful and truth to the world so sweet.
Of the bridegroom and the bride,
Of the flame of fire to lead the way;
But the marriage supper is of the Lamb of love.
Life is like a man sold for his theft,
And do not practice astrology on this issue;
For the marriage supper is ready for you and i.
Of the first and the last,
And a shickle to the home of love;
But try to set set the mother bird free after catching the young.
The marriage supper,
Do not be ruled by your wives!
And do not set a stranger as your King;
For the taste of your many wives may lead you to many problems.
Of a black horse,
But its rider is dishonest and a lair;
And in the great River Euphrates,
I will be ready for your love at this supper.
Clouds of white doves,
Wings of pure love,
Like the doors of heaven!
For i have now seen the glory of the Creator.
At the marriage supper,
The harpers harping with their harps;
With others arrayed in white robes.
Of hands lifted towards heaven at this feast,
Give the little Book to read a line to all;
And at the table of the farmers like,
The farmers farming on their farms.
Of a reed like a measuring rod and,
According to their works on this day;
But honest weights nad measures are needed at the feast.
Of the spirit of life and the sweet of honey,
Like the money paid for this marriage;
But be part of the first resurrection to gain wisdom,
For the marriage supper is for you and i to attend.
Chosen virgins free of bonds,
Wrapped in the tallit of a man to guide you all;
And of the malak standing in the sun to watch us from above,
This marriage supper is for us all to attend.
Rain, grain, train, brain, drain;
Small and great to attend this mariage supper,
But my mind will always write to teach many.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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