Thanks to television, for the first time the young are seeing history made before it is censored by their elders.
quote by Margaret Mead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For the very first time the young are seeing history being made before it is censored by their elders.
quote by Margaret Mead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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[Censored] OFF
Who the [censored] filters art
Its like claiming perfume is the substance of your [censored] fart
This the [censored] problem with society we don't give a [censored] that people run the show make us look like 7billion clowns all in a pretty row
Gremlins can [censored] us over each day but wish to display our artistic rebellion and feel the shackles of [censored] in action
Stand for this, never will I
I'll make censored seem like the worst [censored] word under the sky
So to the [censored] who censored my write you know I think you'll are [censored] [censored] with little might.
Go [censored] yourselves!
poem by Lindsay Maasdorp
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Fear (part1)
Elders muttering with fear
of the youngones
my king now speak
with unGodfulness why must
my own history unpage
time is falling apart
my village now run
out for help why
why must my history
untold
time & tide have some
friutfulness
where are the me
to stand out fate.....
poem by Senator alufalism
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Youth Always Wins
Generational change
wins always
because the old and middle-aged
develop a clouded lens
and can' t see Now
because focused on Yesterday.
Is good advice for Youth Now
consist of lessons learned yesterday,
when yesterday no longer exists?
Can we tell the Young that yesterday
is relevant
when all yesterday is dead and gone?
How can we council that the old views
and yesterday make sense
when conditions have so changed
have been rent,
mangled beyond
recognition?
Young people
as they must
absorb much from us,
but their capacities
and needs are so much greater
than our meager philosophies present.
For the first time in history
young people are smarter
than their elders who
barely know how a computer works.
First time in history the young
are wiser than the septuagenarians.
Generations are additive
and while all youth stands upon
our shoulders
it also means they can see further
than we
planted on the ground below.
We see ground level and the past-
they see above the clouds to that future-ness;
and we complain
because we know in our Youth
we did
exactly
the same thing
against our parents
who always thought
they too,
knew best.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Without Them We Wouldn't Be Here
Ask yourself this question right now,
Is your view on your elders to mock,
If it is it's time ask yourself why,
You must put yourself in the dock.
To properly assess your role in this life,
Your history you just have to respect,
Those generations who have went before,
On them take some time to reflect.
Would you seek advice from your elders,
Or does the thought of that leave you cold,
Life is short so don't ever forget,
One day you yourself will grow old.
Throughout history our Mothers and Fathers,
Have encouraged their offspring to learn,
That the gift of life you must treasure,
The respect of all others you must earn.
Do you really know your Grandparents,
If not you must ask yourself why,
The knowledge they've gained is invaluable,
They also have an unlimited supply.
When they impart their vision of life to you,
Wisdom comes to the one who listens,
Our elders are worth far more than you think,
Remember it's is not just gold that glistens.
They also had parents who loved them,
If they've passed do you know their location,
Find out where they've been laid to rest,
It's a search which will bring such elation.
You'll then find it highly rewarding to find,
You're but a branch on a very large tree,
That generation gap will be cast to the side,
The knowledge gained will set your mind free.
Finally you'll have learned the meaning of life,
Age should never be used as a barrier,
We are all growing old from the day we are born,
Of that message you are now the carrier.
That question you posed will be answered,
Your life will become crystal clear,
We've a lot to thank our elders for,
‘' Without Them We Wouldn't Be Here ''
Television Man
Im looking and Im dreaming for the first time
Im inside and Im outside at the same time
And everything is real
Do I like the way I feel?
When the world crashes in into my living room
Television man made me what I am
People like to put the television down
But we are just good friends
(Im a) television man
I knew a girl, she was a macho man
But its alright, I wasnt fooled for long
This is the place for me
Im the king, and youre the queen
Chorus
Take a walk in the beautiful garden
Everyone would like to say hello
It doesnt matter what you say
Come and take us away
The world crashes in, into my living room
The world crashes in, into my living room
The world crashes in, into my living room
The world crashes in, into my living room
And we are still good friends...(television man)
Im watching everything...(television man)
Television man...(television man)
Im watching everything...(television man)
Television man...and Im gonna say
We are still good friends...and Im trying to be
Watchin everything...and I gotta say
We are still good friends...you know the way it is
Television man...Ive got what you need
We are still good friends...i know the way you are
Television man...i know what youre tryin to be
Watchin everything...and I gotta say
Thats how the story ends.
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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With A Wish To Dismiss Your Pain
You have censored the existence,
Of your own lives.
To protect to keep your fantasies alive.
You have censored to maintain,
A way of life
That has gained only misery you sustain.
And now as is your druthers,
You put the blame on others.
With a wish to dismiss your pain.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The old is with lust unspent
Elders rather than lads are thirsty of women.
Elders’ desire accumulates for want of drain
Owing to their sagging physical energy.
The old is always a threat to young women.
06.10.2000
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Younger Ones
The younger ones,
Do not wish any part of it.
The fragmentation solicited...
Or the family divisiveness.
They have witnessed what the elders have done.
And this has made many of them turn away quick.
Because the younger ones wish,
Not to have any of the negative rifts!
They have witnessed what the elders have done.
And the elders are the ones that do not get it!
The younger ones,
Do not wish any part of this.
In their hearts and in their minds,
The youngers ones may not express it.
But their actions are quite dramatic.
And observing that is obvious and emphatic.
The younger ones have had it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The birth of poetry for M lady Mary Gordley
The birth of poetry.
Before the advent of the written word.
When all knowledge was passed on orally.
then history relied on memory.
Men had to memorise all that they heard
Perhaps this was the birth of poetry.
The tribal elders found they could recall
in simple rhyming verses best of all.
Easily committed to memory.
Long, long before recorded history.
The elders chose and trained one man to be
The current guardian of their legacy
of knowledge they had garnered carefully.
When all knowledge was passed on orally
Then history relied on memory
Poetic piers
http: //blog my space.com.poetic piers
12-May-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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My Fore-Elders
When from the child, that still is led
By hand, a father's hand is gone, ---
Or when a few-year'd mother dead
Has left her children growing on, ---
When men have left their children staid,
And they again have boy and maid, ---
O, can they know, as years may roll,
Their children's children, soul by soul?
If this with souls in heaven can be,
Do my fore-elders know of me?
My elders' elders, man and wife,
Were borne full early to the tomb,
With children still in childhood life
To play with butterfly or bloom.
And did they see the seasons mould
Their faces on, from young to old,
As years might bring them, turn by turn,
A time to laugh or time to mourn?
If this with souls in heaven can be,
Do my fore-elders know of me?
How fain I now would walk the floor
Within their mossy porch's bow,
Or linger by their church's door,
Or road that bore them to and fro,
Or nook where once they build their mow,
Or gateway open to their plough
(Though now indeed no gate is swung
That their live hands had ever hung ), ---
If I could know that they would see
Their child's late child, and know of me.
poem by William Barnes
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Television.
Television:
Super Vision,
With or without
Supervision.
Far better than
Superstition
Or even
Intuition.
More than a thousand channels:
Discovery,
History,
Biography, Sci Fi, Sky, Virgin....
See South America,
The Himalayas,
China, Australia
And Timbuctoo.
Just about anything,
You can view.
Wildlife,
Space,
Question Time,
Lost.
An education,
Inspiration;
Opening the mind.
Widening horizons.
A boon to all Mankind.
Television.
poem by Paul Butters
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TV Guide
i was a television hosting a cartoon,
on early saturday mornings, to take away your blues,
i was your comedian on those rainy afternoons,
giving you a smile in a soothing room,
you were so young with your painted dreams,
an idealistic boy, you wanted to keep them,
i watched you grow and thought 'perhaps',
you'd be the sower with the perfect hem,
i was a television hosting an empty screen,
'cause you grew older and lost time for me,
i was your comedian without a jokes,
for you to hear under you counseling yoke,
you were so young with your textbooks,
stitching useless knowledge in place of your dreams,
i watched you learn and thought 'someday',
you'd have the time to finish sowing,
i was a television hosting a commercial,
while you slept to regain energy,
i was your comedian to help you,
have a laugh and become healthy,
you were so young curled up with your dreams,
in a remedy of blankets you fell asleep,
i watched you dream of a peace that was dead,
but you reconnected it with your needle and red thread,
i was a television hosting the 10 o'clock,
when you were wise and watched the newscaster,
no comedian could entice a smile,
on that evening when they televised the disaster,
you were so young, i saw it drip from your eyes,
sympathy spilled as you calmed your wife,
i watched you pack and thought 'of course',
you'd sacrifice a loom for a country at war,
i was a television hosting a cartoon,
to take away your grandchildren's blues,
i was the comedian on that rainy afternoon,
and enjoyed your smile in that old soothing room,
you looked so young dressed in wrinkles and gray hair,
everyone else grew up, but they wished....
i watched you age backwards, and thought 'you never did',
yeah, you still dream, yeah, your still that kid,
your still that kid.
poem by Jordan Crider
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Early to bed and early to rise
Early to bed and early to rise
is a proverb said by elders,
This is the time to study
and remember your lessons;
Try to get good friends
and play while you play;
Every child needs life style changes
to prevent obesity without sitting in one place
monotonously seeing television;
Get up and walk everyday
morning and evening, twice a day,
to keep you fit for the whole day.
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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The History Teacher
Woman!
Where exactly
Did you put me
In the women's history?
Am I History?
Or a part of it?
And for how long you are lacking me in;
Between
Your History,
Women's History, and
Your archives?
Does time make sense to you
As a History teacher or
As a History professor?
Cause', History, buying time, and rejuvenation
Are for emperors.
Are you making me
An emperor?
Or a Faeroe?
If so,
How precise your are?
And if you can't feel my present presence
how possibility could you feel me through your archives?
poem by Atef Ayadi
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Young Poets Society
to all the young poets in this worlds society.
as a father and grand father as well.
you have made me as proud as can be.
you take the depths of the ocean-and set peoples lives in motion.
for when someone as young as you -can see what we've
gone through.
and feel the elders aches and pains, it will never be the same.
so i stand here proud as can be
through your poetry you have been set free
and i thank you for those memories.
(pain and love have no boundaries)
so continue to write and tell what you see and feel-
and let others know that this is real.
poem by Louis Rams
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They're Our National Treasure
If there's one thing in life which will start a war,
It's conflict between the young and old,
Let's stop and reflect and start asking what for,
These disputes can and do leave us cold.
I observed an old guy the other day,
As he was carrying out a menial task,
When I offered assistance he said, no way,
I'm grateful but there's no need to ask.
What a stubborn Old Git I thought to myself,
He's just bitter because he is old,
It's not my fault he's been left on the shelf,
His attitude did leave me cold.
Then I thought to myself, what would I be like,
If I ever reached the same age,
No more football or stunts on my bike,
That notion placed me in a rage.
Like me he must have been young and fit,
Yet this old guy I was trying to deride,
I knew by his actions his fire I had lit,
He was showing me he still had his pride.
This got me thinking about why we fight,
The reason we are so far apart,
Generations divided by who's wrong or right,
To bridge this divide we must start.
There's so much our Elders know about life,
Yet their knowledge we choose to ignore,
Our attitude towards them can cause so much strife,
They're our mentors they should not be a chore.
Yet in truth they know more than you or I,
They've been round the course a lot longer,
We forget they were young that we cannot deny,
Why don't we try make our relationships stronger.
We must have a truce and evaluate each other
Both our groups have so much to give,
Our differences we know can and do smother,
We must learn to live and let live.
This works both ways, they can be the same,
Saying their time was more respectful than ours,
In life generations go through much the same,
We have weaknesses but we also have powers.
It's our turn next so don't ever forget,
Respect as a gift must be earned,
We owe all our ancestors a massive debt,
Without them what would we have learned.
It's a fact of life that we become more skilled,
Each generation improves on the last,
Thanks to our Elders future dreams are fulfilled,
Only our memories remain in the past.
The reason for this fact is plain to see,
Our forefathers did their job well,
Skills they've given us you'd have to agree,
Is the reason we can now excel.
No group in history has ever got it just right,
Fact is we will all make mistakes,
That's how we learn to make things right,
By distinguishing the real from the fakes.
If we'd treat each other with more respect,
Our differences we could make disappear,
If on each others attributes we tried to reflect,
Then both parties would have nothing to fear.
We all need each other we know that is true,
Living in harmony would give both parties pleasure,
Without our Elders what would we do,
in truth,
‘' They're Our National Treasure ‘'
History Books
We read the history books
The death and destruction
That happened time
And time again
But remembering is futile,
Without total and complete consensus
War will happen again
The memories of the Elders
While we sit on the lap of danger
We are listening in awe
and disbelief
It could never happen here
Ten thousand dead!
The headlines blare
In some alternate universe
Separate from our cushioned existence
Their lives are marked by tragedy
Ours by the tragedy we have escaped
Our army is only numbers
Theirs dear departed souls
Their stories are separated by a barrier
Faceless, courageous people
Risk their lives each day
While we sit
And read the history books
poem by Hannah Rachnid
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She Saw a Man on Television
She saw a man on television
In a suit and tie
And he wore a fine felt hat
Cocked over his eye.
She saw him sing and whistle
And dance a little step
And she wished the men today
Would not be so unkempt.
She saw a man on television
Woo a pretty lass
With smiles, winks, and daffodils,
And diamonds made of glass.
She saw him tip his hat to her
And offer her his arm
And lead her to the dance floor
With gentlemanly charm.
She saw a man on television
Smile with easy grace
And wished that she could find a man
With such an honest face.
But she knew that man on television
Was a dying breed
And suits and ties and tall felt hats
Had all grown obsolete.
poem by Sophia White
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The Tidings
(Easter 1916)
Censored lies that mimic truth…
Censored truth as pale as fear…
My heart is like a rousing bell -
And but the dead to hear…
My heart is like a mother bird,
Circling ever higher,
And the nest-tree rimmed about
By a forest fire…
My heart is like a lover foiled
By a broken stair -
They are fighting to-night in Sackville Street,
And I am not there!
poem by Lola Ridge
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