In fact, the history of North America has been perhaps more profoundly influenced by man's inheritance from his past homes than by the physical features of his present home.
quote by Ellsworth Huntington
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Viceroy Sonata
I am the king called Viceroy
And in my ship I sail the Red Sea
All the way to North America because I want to see the other world
That the people call the American dream
But I know that is not easy to migrate to North America
Because if you want to stay you will need to apply for a green card
And you will be a gringo for the rest of your life
But I don't have any plans to live in North America
But my plans is just to visit North America and that is all
Because I am a jew and I belong in Telaviv that is my birth place
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Before we as individuals are even conscious of our existence we have been profoundly influenced for a considerable time (since before birth) by our relationship to other individuals who have complicated histories, and are members of a society which has an infinitely more complicated and longer history than they do (and are members of it at a particular time and place in that history); and by the time we are able to make conscious choices we are already making use of categories in a language which has reached a particular degree of development through the lives of countless generations of human beings before us. . . . We are social creatures to the inmost centre of our being. The notion that one can begin anything at all from scratch, free from the past, or unindebted to others, could not conceivably be more wrong.
quote by Karl Popper
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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America
(Francis Scott Key)
Oh, say, can you see
By the dawn's early light
What so proudly we hailed
At the twilight's last gleaming
Whose broad stripes and bright stars
Through the perilous fight
O'er the ramparts we watched were so
Gallantly streaming?
America, America, America
America, America, America
And the rocket's red glare
The bombs bursting in air
Gave proof through the night
That our flag was still there
Oh, say, does that star
Spangled banner yet wave
Over the land of the free
And the home of the brave!
America, America, America
America, America, America
America, America, America
America, America, America
America, America, America
America, America
ooohhh
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Joy In The Present
I never want to go back
Dwell in the past no more
Another has come I would rather cherish it
I love who I am now
There is no glory in my history
Full of misery
It’s a new dawn
Though my heart trembles with fear
Some great touch of he who is above
Do not panic
I will dread not
I will fear not
He is with me, he’s on the throne
The one who truly loves me
Accepts my past
Joy of the present
History shredded no agony of the trials of the past
Joy of the present with you
poem by Chanda Lena Mondoka
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Homes Not a Home
Homes not a home without you
Homes not home without the ones you love
Homes not a home when one is missing
That missing one is the heart of the home
To to make the home a home again you go looking for them
in good weather or bad weather
You look all over town..
Screaming and shouting their name.
Making all kind of sounds
Hooting and a hollering.
and carring on.
just to make a point.
missing one, come home...
you are loved.
come home safe
return to us
a homes not a home with out you
you are unique
you are rare
Theres no one like you.
you, we can't replace..
come home come home
so home can be a home again.
Dedicated to carlos ortiz
poem by Krystal Vincent
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The only use of a knowledge of the past is to equip us for the present. The present contains all that there is. It is holy ground; for it is the past, and it is the future.
quote by Alfred North Whitehead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Multicultural Melbourne
Melbourne Immigration Museum
I stroll,
Past history,
Past lives,
Past stories.
I see for the first time MY nation’s history,
My nations courage,
My nations suffering,
My eyes glaze over
And realisation creeps up on me.
I see stories of the past and present,
Played out before me,
The lives of Australia’s people,
Australia’s history
poem by Katie Anne
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The History of Now
The recording of culture is history;
but our culture is more than that.
It's the world of human action,
and the myths we make of the fact.
The recording of history is culture,
but our history is more than that.
It informs a hidden agenda.
Unconscious of motive we act.
It's the history of now, the history of now.
It's only the present that exists as endowed.
It's the history of now. The moment - KAPOW!
That knocks you right over and muddies your brow.
Through the prism of language, we know what we know.
We carry our baggage and stories of woe.
Victor and vanquished pride cannot budge,
the dead weight of hatred and ancestral grudge.
We fight our good fights with our hand on our heart;
the music is swelling as loved ones depart.
As sheep to the slaughter, the script cannot chart,
a course more ignoble: the propagandist's art.
The recording of history is culture,
but our culture is more than that.
More than the great individuals,
the scholars so love in their tracts.
The recording of culture is history;
but our history is more than that.
Not simple dates or statistics,
the full horror and gore still attracts.
It's the history of now, the history of now.
A strange contradiction that makes sense somehow.
It's the history of now, a mystery and shroud.
The past and the future: best fiction allowed.
poem by David SmithWhite
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Atomic Insanity Bomb
America, we're drained of enthusiasm for you
America, why this meaningless war?
America, you are no longer beautiful
America, when will you see the light?
When will you call peace and dance and sing
When will you look in the mirror
and see the menace you have become?
When will you read the philosophies of God
that say Thou Shalt Not Kill?
America, when will you open your eyes?
America, why do you dye the shores red?
Why are the guns loaded with skulls?
Why do you leave your brothers behind
To charge bull-like at a cloth too large for you?
America, why are you putting a gun to your head?
America, stop killing me I'm not
Innocent, not Guilty
AMERICA STOP PUSHING!
America don't liberate me I'm already independent.
America I refuse to give up my rights
I refuse to give up others' rights
America don't reject your own
America the HATE is growing
They're rising up growing
America, let the prisoners go
The scholars of war in peace in hate in freedom
The Ginsbergs and Kerouacs and Dickesons and Whitmans
Of generations past
Free the ones whose philosophies peace it together
America your war is at home
America what is your motto?
Mission is not accomplished
It has just started.
America you have life to give,
not take away.
America, you deserve this war
America, my love for you is gone
America, monster, stop your screaming slashing rage
Look into your past
America LEARN from your mistakes
America, make it continue
AMERICA MAKE IT STOP
poem by Lex Newman
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Many Selves, Many Places
If you consider no physical time
you would think the soul could be
anywhere on a dime.
In fact your spiritual selves are out there in the stars
you are living multiple lives, maybe one on old Mars.
Looking at a star is looking into the past
light years away is where you are at
—but not a proven scientific fact.
For only the angels, seers and watchers know
all of the interdimensional secrets that do not show.
So I pose a question you could ponder-
use your imagination and let your mind wander-
The Physical universe is parallel to the spiritual universe.
is it not?
If so—can your soul be in different realms and different
Physical places without your own Earthly thoughts?
Written by Christina Sunrise on September 30,2012
www.christinasunrise.com www.suzae.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Before Our Weakness Gets To Strong
What are we doing in this place alone is our desire to relive our past this strong
True love we knew in the past is gone but our weakness lingers on
Let's go home before our weakness gets too strong
Long ago we let the flame of love burn out of control
Now we have no reason to reach for love that has grown cold
If we live our past in the present our future will be gone
Let's go home before our weakness gets too strong
[ fiddle ]
Line with temptation we raced into the past
On a road too small to let the past and the present pass
Are we going too fast to turn back and leave the past alone
Let's go home before our weakness gets too strong
Long ago we let the flame...
Let's go home before our weakness gets too strong
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Constant Time
Time past and the future give way to this present picture,
But can somebody tell me how to recognize that gate that leads to the bed of roses,
We speak about the future like the past is a grain of sand on the shore,
Washed away by the ocean tide,
Giving way to new grains to make a portrait of the present,
These past memories stay deep in our heart like the depths of the ocean,
Though it gets washed back to shore ones in a blue moon,
Reminding us that our past is a standard measurement of our strength,
Time moves so fast making the past to fade away,
this makes us seem so secured about the present,
Forgetting the fact that our present becomes our past that was once a present from nature as a new day,
Some take the future to be a dream and a wish,
But I take my future to be what I see when I stand from the bottom of the mountain to look at the top,
And my past to be the depth of the ocean that can always be washed ashore …
The only thing I can control is my present,
Yes cos my mind controls my hands to give you a flash of what goes on in my head
Like this words i write to you was once my future and will become my past, making my future my past and my past my future..So ironical isn’t it?
Standing here I sure know 1 thing,
I will reach the top by that foot path,
Yes of course it’s not to mean that I wouldn’t fall,
But I have to break myself off my present past and walk with grace to stand where I belong,
There where I am the king of my destiny,
The past is just going to be a page of memories,
And my future will become my present making time constant in my head,
Because I stand on my past which was once my present and my present which was once my future, making time equal and constant
As I flip thru this page of life,
By: ade
poem by Adeniran Oluokun
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History
Yesterday is History.
History brings us to this present moment
but it doesn't shape who we are at this present moment.
We can't let our History control us
and who we wish to be.
Our future is our choice,
Not History's.
poem by Tiana Webb
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The history of the past interests us only in so far as it illuminates the history of the present.
quote by Ernest Dimnet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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America Will Always Stand
She stands in the face of evil
and will not lose hope or faith
America, the land of freedom
Still the home of the brave.
Chorus
So raise the banner, called Old Glory
Let us join our fellow man
History will write the story,
America will always stand.
Walking through the fires of danger
There are those who gave their lives
They're the world's greatest heroes,
And we won't forget their sacrifice.
(Chorus):
So raise the banner, called Old Glory
Let us join our fellow man
History will write the story,
America will always stand.
America is not divided
Our enemies they will be stopped.
'Cause, we the people are united
And still, one nation Under God.
(Chorus):
So raise the banner, called Old Glory
Let us join our fellow man
History will write the story,
America will always stand.
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dimension Merge
For us the past has gone and the present moves on
into the yesterday of a future’s present time.
Despite living in the future’s past this will not last,
present and future will very soon combine.
Future or dimension, to some a misapprehension,
but they are one in the same.
If there’s more than one, they will follow on
to leave one, with it’s present name.
On merging we’ll realise we’ve no future to recognise,
and the past and present is all we’ll know.
The past will still be renewed, with each day used,
but the future will mean only tomorrow.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A glorious past
Past is always glorious
by that only you have become known or famous
that must remain on or continuous
the reason may be many or various
you can't go by the past
though it might have ended fast
the present may still be eluded
if past is not at all included
you love the present and think of future
the thing which is not there for sure
Think of the past with little from present
you won't feel future too absent
don't read much about anything
you will have to prove for everything
you can't trust the present trend
you may plan accordingly with some mends
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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In Praise of America
America is the answer
To all of life's problems
America, the home of freedom
And self actualization.
The world revers America,
Paragon of beauty,
Epitome of pride;
I love America
Hopeful home,
Benevolent barn.
poem by Samuel Nze
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To Allen Ginsberg
I have been listening to you, Allen Ginsberg
I can still hear you whistling a radio tune
I can follow you through history thoughts of yours
flow into mine
I follow you past WWI
and through the Battle of Versailles without a second glance
Past Hitler Mao Nietzsche Reagan Gogol
past Whitman Kerouac and Carson
I watch as you nod to Ghandi
And converse with Pope Paul VI and Nelson Mandala
We drift past Central Park quickly changing seasons
past Chicago streets and cute little back country California homes
I watch the death of many a thing beside you
i watch you connect you think you
Writing Howl, writing America, writing Death & Fame
I watch yourself deteriorate in body
but flourish in mind
and as you flourish i flourish
And we grow together and I follow you
and then you vanish
into the grape vines at the back of the fence
poem by Lex Newman
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History?
Has history taught us nothing
but tales and ancient lies?
All wrapped up in stories
not told us by the wise?
Told by the vicars who consecrated death
Told by the rulers
with power in their breath.
Passed on in written words
in books the masses read,
never questioned, never disputed
in the minds they lead.
Slanted stories still present
right to our present day.
Foes of peace seen as heroes
in ungodly ways
and as we live the history writers
will pen each blazing act
as benificent for these difficult times,
more fiction than true fact.
So those who follow in our steps
will read our history book
and what they read will be fantasy
with a different look.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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