Our enemies are Medes and Persians, men who for centuries have lived soft and luxurious lives; we of Macedon for generations past have been trained in the hard school of danger and war. Above all, we are free men, and they are slaves.
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I Am Not Your Mother
Life is like the laws of the Medes and the Persians,
But i am not your mother! !
Darius of the Medes and Cyrius of the Persians,
I am thrown into the lion's den of love;
And until the ancient of days come,
I will lead on to inspire you.
I am not your mother but,
The care taker of the River Ulai;
And i am in the province of Elam to help you grow,
And like the laws of the Medes and the Persians.
Over the river of love i stood and watched,
And sleep fled from my eyes like a thief! !
For, i saw pllows on the wrists of men.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The danger of the past was that men became slaves. The danger of the future is that man may become robots.
quote by Erich Fromm
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Weird At My School
1-2-3-4
My father lives in arabia
And I live right here at my school
I took his plane to columbia
So I could sail at my school(? ) *
Its weird at my school
Weird at my school(3x)
My mothers glad that I am here
So she can visit my school
I cant believe shes so pretty
Im a son of a bitch at my school
Weird at my school(4x)
And my best friend, my cousin eleanor
She lives far away from the doors of my school
And often times, you know I fantasize
That I have sex with the nuns at my school
Its weird at my school
Weird at my school(7x)
(transcribed by moses boole)
* : or so I could sell at my school (according to rhys henry mason)
song performed by by Pixies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Danger
There is danger atop our heads;
There is danger around us all;
There is danger beneath our feet;
There is danger to man and beast!
There is danger in the skies;
There is danger in the seas;
There is danger ev’n on land;
There is danger to man and beast!
There is danger from earth’s bowels;
There is danger in forests;
There is danger in hills, vales;
There is danger to man and beast!
There is danger from our brethren;
There is danger from kith, kin;
There is danger from strangers;
There is danger to man and beast!
There is danger within us;
There is danger from space;
There is danger to our soul;
Nevertheless, God protects us.
poem by John Celes
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Women cannot be free.
The chastity of woman is not practised voluntarily.
It is coerced by generations by patriarchy
With the dire consequence of death and estrangement.
In a cage, she feeds without lust, lusts without food.
Men never free women; Masters never free slaves.
04.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Stones Whisper Beware Tsunamis
centuries-old stand carved stone tablets
warn of sudden dangers of tsunamis
busy lives generations later forget not
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Working At The Factory
All my life I've been a workin' man
When I was at school they said that's all you'll ever understand
No profession. I didn't figure in their plans
So they sent me down factory to be a workin' man
All I lived for, All I lived for
All I lived for was to get out of the factory
Now I'm here seemingly free, but working at the factory.
The music came along and gave new life to me
And gave me hope back in 1983
The music came and set me free
From working at the factory
All I lived for, All I lived for
All I lived for was to get out of the factory
All I lived for, All I lived for
All I lived for was to get out of the factory
Never wanted to be like everybody else
But now there are so many like me sitting on the shelf
They sold us a dream but in reality
It was just another factory
I made the music , thought that was mine
It made me free , but that was in another time
But then the corporations and the big combines
Turned musicians into factory workers on assembly lines.
All I lived for, All I lived for
All I lived for was to get out of the factory
We made the music to set ourselves free
From working at the factory.
All my life I've put in a working day
Now it's sign the contract. Get production on the way
Take the money, make the music pay
Working at the factory
All I lived for was to get out of the factory.
Never wanted to be like everybody else
But now there are so many like me sitting on the shelf
They sold us a dream but in reality
Was just another factory
Working at the factory.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Epitaph
I lived in those times. For a thousand years
I have been dead. Not fallen, but hunted;
When all human decency was imprisoned,
I was free amongst the masked slaves.
I lived in those times, yet I was free.
I watched the river, the earth, the sky,
Turning around me, keeping their balance,
The seasons provided their birds and their honey.
You who live, what have you made of your luck?
Do you regret the time when I struggled?
Have you cultivated for the common harvest?
Have you enriched the town I lived in?
Living men, think nothing of me. I am dead.
Nothing survives of my spirit or my body.
poem by Robert Desnos
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After All Hymn
After all I am human
And I get mad sometimes
Sometimes it is hard for me to think of something else in
Order to get rid of my anger
But I think I have to replace it with poetry
Poetry is my life
And I live writing poetry
Is poetry just a scribbling that doesn't make sense?
No
Poetry are feelings that are wrtten on a piece of paper or in the computer Scream
Poetry makes sense because every word I carefully select
And there are other words that might pop out of my mind
That I connect with the words in my heart
Do I use strong words in my poetry?
Yes I use strong words
Do I offend my readers with the words I pick?
That Is something that I try not to do
AAafter all
I am human and I do make mistakes
But after I make mistakes I try to move to the next step so I never get Stuck with my mistake
Yes poetry is my voice that is a message that I am trying hard to give to My readers
There are so many different styles of poetry
Haiku, rhiming, and free style
But I always stick with the free style of poetry
I find that it is the style that sooths me just fine
After all
I try very hard to live a modest life that is very plain and simple
From the one I lived 16 years ago
What is wrong to live a life of luxury to me?
First I need to have the money to live a luxurious life
The second part is that I don't want anything to do with a luxurious life
Because I am happy living my simple life
And I hope to live that simple life forever
I want to have dreams only and I don't wish them to turn into reality in My Life
Because I know that my dreams will be dreams
No I can't sell my dreams
Because my dreams are only fantasies that I face every night when I sleep In my bed
And after all I will always be human
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Mummy, Mummy Who Invented School?
mummy, mummy,
who invented school?
oh, sweetheart,
what a clever girl you are;
why don’t you tell me first
who you think invented school?
I think, mummy,
school must have been invented
it must be by people
like old grumpy Uncle Grim
next door;
and the grouchy Aunty Scowl
who lives behind our house
oh no, darling,
oh no, not at all:
O darling,
wise men and women
of the past
they invented school
oh, mummy,
they couldn’t
have been wise
not if you went to school
and see what happens in class;
surely those men and women
of the past
couldn’t have been wise
if they created places
where little kids are tested
every three days;
and little John thinks he’s stupid
and little Sue says she’d rather
stay at home and sleep;
and Tua and Helen are always
tense and nervous
and Chandra snores while the teacher talks
oh no -
oh, no darling,
oh no,
it’s not like that at all:
O darling,
they were wise and all-knowing
those
sage men and women
of the past
who invented school
so little children like you and your friends
can go and learn all you need to know
but why mummy,
why a school?
is it because daddy and you
and grandma and grandpa
you know nothing and
you can’t teach me
what I need to know?
oh, no darling,
oh no not at all;
O darling,
you must listen to mummy -
wise men and women
of the past
most certainly
they invented school
poem by Raj Arumugam
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That's my school
Up at my school
everyone is different
yet we are treated
like an equal
everyone is always smiling
or laughing so hard
they start to cry
that's my school
a lot of people
go through my school
home of the blue jays
to cool for school
standing tall upon the hill
behind all the trees
stands the blue jay's school
yup, that's my school
each person is unique
form the clothes
to the hair
to their personality
each person is free
to express themselves
and be who they want
that's my school
WHS blue jay pride
that's something
that can never be beat
and something that we can't hide
friends come and go
but one thing will live on
the pride we had for our team
just like my school did
no matter where I go
or how far I leave town
I'll always be proud to say
WHS in WashMo is my school.
poem by Shauna Stoltz
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School Is Not So Cool
School, School, School,
A school is not so cool
We're here 5 days a week
8 hours a day.
School, School, School,
A school is not so cool.
People laugh when we fall
we just have to make a call.
School, School, School
A school is not so cool.
We have to work hard to get good grades
I'm not going to do it no more
I do it everyday.
We cant go on the grass
We cant bother another class
We cant save spots at lunch
We have to go as a bunch.
We have 3 minutes in the hall
I'm always late what a ball.
We have to pay attention
if not we get detention.
School, School, School,
A school is not so cool.
They have to many rules
they play us as fools
if we get A's
the parents jump Hip Hip Hooray.
If we get F's
we tell them we need to take a rest.
We always have homework
we never have classwork
they have to many rules
they need to take it cool.
School, School, School,
A school is so not cool!
poem by Chantel Braatz
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In School
in school,
when i saw you
i intuited i have found
my lost world in you
i wish i could act
to be appreciated
by you in school.
in school,
it would be too sad
to narrate the ordeal
i have been through
i wonder if its best
i had met you
in the school.
in school,
though i had not said it
there has been so many ways
that i have shown it
my actions had done
whatever i wanted to say
at school.
in school,
i never thought
being in love
could take me to madness
well, it is better than
leaving me in sadness
in the school.
in school,
when i approached you
i knew i was silly
it was because
suddenly,
i forgot who i was
in school
in school,
why do you sneer
when i am near
it really breaks me
just tell me what to do
to get a room from you
in and out of school.
in school,
sometimes though it is hard
i guess i must let go
some things i wish to have
though good things also
could be found elsewhere
as it has been in school.
poem by Elorm Dogbo
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The Kids Arent Alright
When we were young, the future was so bright, whoa
The old neighborhood was so alive, whoa
And every kid on the whole damn street, whoa
Was gonna make it big and not be beat
Now, the neighborhoods cracked and torn, whoa
The kids are grown up, but their lives are worn, whoa
How can one little street
Swallow so many lives
Chances thrown, nothings free
Longing for what used to be
Still, its hard, hard to see
Fragile lives, shattered dreams
Jamie had a chance, well, she really did, whoa
Instead, she dropped out and had a couple of kids, whoa
Mark still lives at home cause hes got no job, whoa
He just plays guitar and smokes a lotta pot
Jay committed suicide, whoa
Brandon odd and died, whoa
What the hell is going on
The cruelest dream, reality
Chances thrown, nothings free
Longing for what used to be
Still, its hard, hard to see
Fragile lives, shattered dreams
Go!
Chances thrown, nothings free
Longing for what used to be
Still, its hard, hard to see
Fragile lives, shattered dreams
song performed by by Offspring
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Appalled
I gasped at what I held in my two hands.
My son had handed me the leather whip,
A bullwhip, five feet long, a master used
To subjugate his slaves unto his will.
And then, he handed me the branding irons,
Which heated to a red-hot glow were used
To brand a human as a master's own.
I felt disgust, appalled, to think they scorched
A person's brow, or seared a woman's breast
To indicate a master's ownership
Of human beings.
Slaves were classified
As lower than the cattle in the field,
Who lived in quarters, a degree above,
What masters would provide for their prize pigs.
Slave girls were tagged as 'breeders, ' bred like dogs,
To bind in servitude their newborn child.
A slave was valued by his 'use, ' not by
His human value. He was bought and sold
Upon an auction block, with heifers, hogs
And brooder mares, like chattel on a farm.
Denied all self-respect and dignity,
Through burning indignation, slaves maintained
An inner purpose which prevailed despite
The efforts to debase them less than swine.
What was the mastic causing them to live
When death was far their better choice than life?
An old black man advised me of the cause.
'There was a bond of faith they found within
Their gospel, where they heard the Word of God,
Both sung and spoken from the church lectern.
A basic trust that God would elevate
Them from their desperate depravation. They
Endured because of those who were to come,
The future generations, whom they hoped
Could rise above the level, which the slaves
Themselves then lived.
Belief blazed up like fire
Through their religion. An awakening,
Had lighted the dark caves of their deep grief,
Ignited from the embers of their dreams.'
(Free Verse)
poem by Lynn W. Petty
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Soft And Hard
Soft and hard words
There in the dictionary
Soft and hard
In a man beautify him
Soft and hard
In right place and
In right time
Make the country
Most powerful
And soft and hard
Are the ingredients
Of smart power strategy.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Legend Fable
centuries-old stand carved stone tablets
hundreds of tsunami warning stone markers
fabled tsunami waves devouring land lives
devastation legendary loss dwarfs memories
scale wave force shadow outruns warnings
witness awareness realities lost in three generations
generation enduring disaster becomes aged survivors
experience memory disaster to their children passes
experience more distant to their grandchildren passes
three generations fades forgotten from living memories
experience reality legend myth fable forget
three generations till people warnings forget
community crucial knowledge people forget
busy with lives love jobs experiences people forget
all except wise souls tsunami warnings heeding forget
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Liberty!
'LIBERTY?' Is that the cry, then?
We have heard it oft of yore.
Once it had, we think, a meaning;
Let us hear it now no more.
We have read what history tells us
Of its heroes, martyrs too.
Doubtless they were very splendid,
But they're not for me and you.
There were Greeks who fought and perished,
Won from Persians deathless graves.
Had we lived then, we're aware that
We'd have been those same Greeks' slaves!
Then a Roman came who loved us;
Caesar gave men tongues and swords.
Crying 'Liberty,' they fought him,
Cato and his wild-beast lords.
When he'd give a broader franchise,
Lift the mangled nations bowed,
Crying 'Liberty!' they killed him,
Brutus and his cut-throat crowd.
We have read what history tells us,
O the truthful memory clings!
Tacitus, the chartered liar,
Gloating over poisoned kings!
'Liberty!' The stale cry echoes
Past smug homesteads, tinsel thrones,
Over smoking fields and hovels,
Murdered peasants' bleaching bones.
That's the cry that mocked us madly,
Toiling in our living graves,
When hell-mines sent up the chorus;
'Britons never shall be slaves!'
'Liberty!' We care not for it!
What we care for's food, clothes, homes,
For our dear ones, toiling, waiting
For the time that never comes!
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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A School Is So Not Cool
School Is Not So Cool
School, School, School,
A school is not cool
We're here 5 days a week
8 hours a day.
School, School, School,
A school is not cool.
People laugh when we fall
we just have to make a call.
School, School, School
A school is not cool.
We have to work hard to get good grades
I'm not going to do it no more
I do it every day.
We can’t go on the grass
We can’t bother another class
We can’t save spots at lunch
We have to go as a bunch.
We have 3 minutes in the hall
I'm always late what a ball.
We have to pay attention
if not we get detention.
School, School, School,
A school is not cool.
They have too many rules
they play us as fools
if we get A's
the parents jump Hip Hip Hooray.
If we get F's
we tell them we need to take a rest.
We always have homework
we never have class work
they have to many rules
they need to take it cool.
School, School, School,
A school is so not cool!
poem by Fahed Sharaf
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Paranoia With Anxieties Comforted
We have become alerted,
For enemies of all kinds to attack.
And we are instructed to look for them,
In movies or TV.
And...
Peeking through the windows.
Where we find our 'facts'.
But few are taught,
To monitor their own backs.
Or bother to ask,
Neighbors about lives lived...
In their past.
We clearly have made it our priority,
To accept what we see...
If that image is tolerated.
And appears to accept paranoia,
With anxieties comforted by familiarity.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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