Do not bury our glorious orthodoxy in the treacherous pit of a spurious conservatism.
quote by Abraham Kuyper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Bury Me Now!
bury me now,
at the feet of your freedom.
bury me now,
in the bowl of your hunger.
bury me now,
in the healing balm.
bury me now,
in the hand that comforts.
bury me now,
at the foot of the birthing bed.
bury me now,
in the march for peace.
bury me now,
let my body be the bridge.
bury me now,
and give names to the faces!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Conservatism
Conservatism is the process
That admits not anything first.
Religions are kept alive
Solely on conservatism.
21.04.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Orthodoxy means not thinking - not needing to think. Orthodoxy is unconsciousness.
George Orwell in 1984
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tenuous and Precarious
Tenuous and Precarious
Were my guardians,
Precarious and Tenuous,
Two Romans.
My father was Hazardous,
Hazardous
Dear old man,
Three Romans.
There was my brother Spurious,
Spurious Posthumous,
Spurious was Spurious,
Was four Romans.
My husband was Perfidious,
He was Perfidious
Five Romans.
Surreptitious, our son,
Was Surreptitious,
He was six Romans.
Our cat Tedious
Still lives,
Count not Tedious
Yet.
My name is Finis,
Finis, Finis,
I am Finis,
Six, five, four, three, two,
One Roman,
Finis.
poem by Stevie Smith
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We have among us a class of mammon worshippers, whose one test of conservatism or radicalism is the attitude one takes with respect to accumulated wealth. Whatever tends to preserve the wealth of the wealthy is called conservatism, and whatever favors anything else, no matter what is called socialism.
quote by Richard T. Ely
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On the Death of a Louse
A Treacherous Thug
Hid under a Rug
And drank Malt Liquor
From a Pewter Mug.
He was Waiting for
The Wife of the House
To Watch him Beat Out
The Brains of a Louse-
Her Two-timing Spouse!
The Husband Walked In-
And then the Wife-
Who Watched the Treacherous Thug
Liquidate her Husband's Life.
After the Murdering was Done
The Treacherous Thug had to Run
Because the Wife pulled out an Enormous Gun
With which she Peppered the Treacherous Thug's...
BUN!
poem by M.L. Squier
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Bury My Soul
if i died today
it would take my pain away
no more in the way
with no more to say
so bury my soul
losing control
losing my hold
bury my soul
lost control
lost a hold
so bury my soul
take my mind away from the misery
take my heart away from the mystery
so bury my soul
losing control
losing my hold
bury my soul
lost control
lost a hold
so bury my soul
i looked into your eyes
and i saw all the lies
my hate is now my fate
the more i try
the more i die
the more i die inside
so bury my soul
losing control
losing my hold
bury my soul
lost control
lost a hold
so bury my soul
i left to rest my soul
i buried my heart in the dark hole
turn the page
begin the new chapter
i surrender
i surrender my soul
so bury my soul
losing control
losing my hold
bury my soul
lost control
lost a hold
so bury my soul
bury my soul
bury my soul
poem by Bobby Butterfield
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Now When The Number Of My Years
NOW when the number of my years
Is all fulfilled, and I
From sedentary life
Shall rouse me up to die,
Bury me low and let me lie
Under the wide and starry sky.
Joying to live, I joyed to die,
Bury me low and let me lie.
Clear was my soul, my deeds were free,
Honour was called my name,
I fell not back from fear
Nor followed after fame.
Bury me low and let me lie
Under the wide and starry sky.
Joying to live, I joyed to die,
Bury me low and let me lie.
Bury me low in valleys green
And where the milder breeze
Blows fresh along the stream,
Sings roundly in the trees -
Bury me low and let me lie
Under the wide and starry sky.
Joying to live, I joyed to die,
Bury me low and let me lie.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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I once said, "We will bury you," and I got into trouble with it. Of course we will not bury you with a shovel. Your own working class will bury you.
Nikita Khrushchev in Speech in Yugoslavia (24 August 1963)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I once said, We will bury you, and I got into trouble with it. Of course we will not bury you with a shovel. Your own working class will bury you.
quote by Nikita Khrushchev
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I once said, ""We will bury you,"" and I got into trouble with it. Of course we will not bury you with a shovel. Your own working class will bury you.
quote by Nikita Khrushchev
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bury Me In My Home
Let the soul creep in my shadow
Wake me up when you’re gray
Eat my meal, throw the ladle
Shine the sun, cast them away
Dig the hole in the ground
Bury me in my home
Break the bells, call no funeral
Don’t let them say the prayer
Say me bye, like my humor
Never become them, be my heir
You’d lose the foes you found
Bury me in my home
Save yourself with the sword
Avoid the burden of the shield
Fight them in the name of Lord
Follow the way, you can’t see
Dig the grave, make no sound
Bury me in my home
Face the demise, lose the war
Hug it with your pain
Keep your soul, not lose it far
Feel the surge of dying again
Do the job, you are bound to
Bury me in my home...
The zone that I own
Bury me in my home...
Bury me in my home...
poem by Usman Hanif
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Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee
Indian legislation's on the desk of the do right congressman
Now he don't know much about the issues so he picks up the phone
And asks the advice of the senator out in indian country
A darling of the energy companies their ripping off
What's left of the reservation
I learned the safety rule
I don't know who to thank
Don't stand between the reservation
And the corporate bank
They're sending federal tanks
It isn't nice but it's reality
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Deep in the earth
I said cover me with pretty lies
Bury my heart at wounded knee
They got these energy companies
Who want to take the land
And they got churches by the dozens
Trying to guide our hands
And turn our mother earth
Over to pollution war and greed
Well
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
I said deep in the earth
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Won't you cover me with your pretty lies
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
They got the federal marshalls
We get the covert spies
We get the liars by fire
We get the fbi
They lie in court and get nailed
And still leonard peltier goes off to jail
(the bullets don't match the gun)
Bury my heart at wounded knee
An eighth of the reservation
Bury my heart at wounded knee
It was transferred in secret
Bury my heart at wounded knee
We got your murder and intimidation
Bury my heart at wounded knee
My girlfriend anna may
Talked about uranium
Her head was full of bullets
And her body dumped
The fbi cut off her hands
And told us she died of exposure
Yeah right
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Oh deep in the earth
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Won't you cover me with pretty lies
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Talk about a revolution
We had the gold rush wars
Why didn't we learn to crawl?
And now our history gets written in a liar's scrawl
They tell me " honey you can still be an indian
Down at the y on saturday night''
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
I said deep in the earth
Bury my heart at wounded knee
And cover me with your pretty lies
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart
It was an eighth of the reservation
Bury my heart
It was transferred in secret
Bury my heart
Got your murder, murder, murder and intimidation
Bury me
Bury me
Bury me
Bury my heart
Bury my heart
Bury my heart
Bury my heart
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hello, My Treacherous Friends
Sitting for lunch in a square in this town
(this town that I'm new to),
new fellow from my new town sat me down
and explained it to me:
how when I spin from him I spin from myself,
the center can double the speed of the crust.
Thank you, my treacherous friends.
I'm cringing for myself when I cringe for you.
Hello, my treacherous friends,
and thank you for joining me here tonight.
I brought you all here to discuss, as I must,
how grateful I am for your insights.
With regard to my newborn arachnid kids,
there's something we must discuss:
perhaps we should sit them down and explain
how not to be saved.
Perhaps you could help me to demonstrate
how your center can keep up its sickening spin.
Thank you, my treacherous friends.
Perhaps for my children your surface will smile.
Hello, my treacherous friends,
and thank you for joining me here tonight.
I brought you all here to discuss, as I must,
the fate of my children, the spiders.
Hello, my treacherous friends,
and thank you for joining me here tonight.
I brought you all here to discuss, as I must,
how pleasant has been this demise
song performed by by Ok Go
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fury Of Hating Eyes
I would like to bury
all the hating eyes
under the sand somewhere off
the North Atlantic and suffocate
them with the awful sand
and put all their colors to sleep
in that soft smother.
Take the brown eyes of my father,
those gun shots, those mean muds.
Bury them.
Take the blue eyes of my mother,
naked as the sea,
waiting to pull you down
where there is no air, no God.
Bury them.
Take the black eyes of my love,
coal eyes like a cruel hog,
wanting to whip you and laugh.
Bury them.
Take the hating eyes of martyrs,
presidents, bus collectors,
bank managers, soldiers.
Bury them.
Take my eyes, half blind
and falling into the air.
Bury them.
Take your eyes.
I come to the center,
where a shark looks up at death
and thinks of my heart
and squeeze it like a doughnut.
They'd like to take my eyes
and poke a hatpin through
their pupils. Not just to bury
but to stab. As for your eyes,
I fold up in front of them
in a baby ball and you send
them to the State Asylum.
Look! Look! Both those
mice are watching you
from behind the kind bars.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Song (Untitled #12)
Should thy love die;
O bury it not under ice-blue eyes!
And lips that deny,
With a scornful surprise,
The life it once lived in thy breast when it wore no disguise.
Should thy love die;
O bury it where the sweet wild-flowers blow!
And breezes go by,
With no whisper of woe;
And strange feet cannot guess of the anguish that slumbers below.
Should thy love die;
O wander once more to the haunt of the bee!
Where the foliaged sky
Is most sacred to see,
And thy being first felt its wild birth like a wind-wakened tree.
Should thy love die;
O dissemble it! smile! let the rose hide the thorn!
While the lark sings on high,
And no thing looks forlorn,
Bury it, bury it, bury it where it was born.
poem by George Meredith
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Song. (From The Spanish)
Ah, Love!
Perjured, false, treacherous Love!
Enemy
Of all that mankind may not rue!
Most untrue
To him who keeps most faith with thee.
Woe is me!
The falcon has the eyes of the dove.
Ah, Love!
Perjured, false, treacherous Love!
Thy deceits
Give us clearly to comprehend,
Whither tend
All thy pleasures, all thy sweets!
They are cheats,
Thorns below and flowers above.
Ah, Love!
Perjured, false, treacherous Love!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Their Best Performances
The only way there is,
To defend against those...
Who show they can be treacherous,
Is to pretend you have been...
A willing victim of it.
Since those who 'are' treacherous,
Often seek the ones appearing to be dumb...
Ignorant and innocent of what's going on!
And eventually expose themselves,
To others they teach...
How to observe their doings,
While delivering this in their best performances.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bury Me In My Shades
In a pad with no heat, up on Sullivan Street,
The last of the hipsters lay dyin'.
Wearin' his shades, so like no one could tell
Like whether or not he was cryin'.
All the junkies and loners
An' coffee shop owners
Were all gathered 'round his bed.
He took one last puff
Of some imported stuff
And this are the last words he said.
He said, 'Send my sandals home to Mom,
Hang my T-shirt away.
Burn my guitar
In Washington Squar',
'Cause I never learned how to play.
Give my pad
To some needy lad
And tell him the rent is all paid.
Keep my cash,
An' my stash,
An' my hash,
But bury me in my shades.
Bury me in my shades, boys,
Bury me in my shades.
Burn my guitar
In Washington Squar',
But bury me in my shades.'
He said, 'Give my Brooklyn chicks away
To anyone who needs 'em.
Give all of my poems away
To anyone who'll read 'em.
Dig me a grave 'neath the coffeeshop,
And let a sad folksong be played.
Get everyone high
On the moment I die,
Bury me in my shades.
Bury me in my shades, boys,
Bury me in my shades.
Burn my guitar
In Washington Squar',
But bury me in my shades.'
We threw his sandals out in the hall,
We left his T-shirt lay.
We sold his guitar
At the corner bar
To someone who knew how to play.
We smoked all his stash,
And spent all his cash,
And threw all his poems away.
And Bob got his records,
And Ed got his books,
And I got the poor beatnik shades.
'Bury me in my shades, boys,' he said,
'Bury me in my shades.
Burn my guitar
In Washington Squar',
But bury me in my shades.'
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Bury Me With It
We were shootin' at a mound of dirt.
Well nothing was broken, nothing was hurt.
But I probably really should have been at work.
But if my freetime's gone, would you promise me this?
That you will please bury me with it?
Please bury me with it!
Well sure as planets come, I know that they end.
And if I'm here when that happens, will you promise me this my friend?
Please bury me with it!
I just don't need none of that Mad Max bullshit.
Well the suit got tight and it split at the seams.
But I kept it out of habit and I kept it really clean.
But if it's getting' faded, if it's runnin' outta thread,
Could you just do this for me my friend?
And please just please bury me with it?
Please bury me with it!
Well we moved to the left and moved to the right.
And sure as hell we stayed out almost every single night.
But if the party's over, if the fun has to end,
could you do this for me my friend?
Would you just please bury me with it?
Please bury me with it!
Good news for people who love bad news.
We've lost the plot and we just can't choose.
We are hummingbirds who are just not willing to move.
And there's good news for people who love bad news.
We are hummingbirds who've lost the plot and we will not move.
We have good news for anyone who loves bad news.
We were aiming for the moon. We were shooting at the stars.
But the kids were just shooting at the busses and the cars.
So don't drink the water, don't you breathe the air.
If it's gotten to that point then I have to declare:
That you please bury me with it!
Please bury me with it!
Well fads they come and fads they go.
And God I love that rock and roll!
Well the point was fast but it was too blunt to miss.
Life handed us a paycheck, we said, "We worked harder than this!"
Please bury me with it!
Please bury me with it!
We are hummingbirds who are just not going to move.
And there's good news for people who love bad news.
We are hummingbirds who've lost the plot and we well not move.
We have great news for anyone who loves bad news.
song performed by by Modest Mouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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