But it is obvious that our fathers, whose efforts have planted these great and prosperous cities along the once lonely trails of our own broad land, received all the fundamentals of civilization as a heritage from their European ancestors.
quote by James H. Breasted
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our Epitaph
Here lies the greatest civilization ever developed upon this earth
The finest and best hope that all men could be free, self-governing
and prosperous, and that the burden of excessive toll, disease
and poverty could be lifted from the backs of men
This great civilization died not as a result of external agression,
but from internal crumbling of the character of its people
The people had become so luxury-loving and soft that they would
not exert themselves in their own defense
A malignant disease that might be described as a maudlin sympahty
for ones enemies seemed to paralyze their will
Here lies the nation that sacrificed its life in an effort to gain
the goodwill and friendship of its enemies
Here lies the people who abandoned their priceless heritage of
patriotism, religious faith and truth for the socialism that
sapped their manhood
Here lies the nation that abandoned the faith of its fathers who
had made it great; for the cynical skepticism and atheism of
its enemies
Here lies the nation that died from loss of faith in God, loss of
pride and confidence in itself, and a loss of the will to defend
itself against both its internal and external enemies
Here lies the United States
poem by John Leroy Maxwell
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Anhelli - Chapter 1
Exiles came to the land of Siberia, and having chosen a broad site they built a
wooden house that they might dwell together in concord and brotherly love; and
there were of them about a thousand men of various stations in life.
And the government had provided women for them that they might marry,
because their sentence made known that they were sent to people the country.
For a time there was among them great order and great sorrow,
for they could not forget that they were exiles
and that they should see their fatherland no more-unless God should will it.
And when they had already built the house and each one had taken up his own work,
except the people who desired to be called wise men, who remained in idleness, saying:
'Lo, we ponder on the salvation of the fatherland,' they beheld upon a time a great flock
of black birds flying from the north.
After the birds there appeared a sort of train and caravan,
and sledges harnessed with dogs, and a herd of reindeer with branching horns,
and men on skis bearing spears : it was the whole Siberian people.
At their head, moreover, walked the king of the people, who was at the same time a priest,
dressed according to their custom in furs and in corals,
and he wore a wreath of dead serpents instead of a crown.
Then that ruler, drawing near to the throng of exiles,
said in the language of their own land : 'Hail !
'Behold I have known your fathers who were also unfortunate,
and I have seen how they lived in the fear of God and died, saying `Fatherland ! Fatherland !'
'Therefore do I wish to be your friend and to make a covenant
between you and my people, that ye may be in an hospitable land
and in a country of well-wishers.
'And of your fathers now is none living except one only, who is already old
and who is well-inclined toward me ;
but he dwelleth far hence in a lonely hut.
'If ye desire that the friend of your fathers be your leader,
I will abide with you and forsake my own people;
for ye are the more unfortunate.'
Yet more that old man said, and they showed
him reverence and invited him to their tabernacle.
And they made a covenant with the people of Siberia,
who departed and settled in their snowy villages ;
but their king remained with the exiles that he might comfort them.
And they marvelled at his wisdom, saying
'Lo, this he hath surely gotten from our fathers,
and his words are from our ancestors.'
And they called him Shaman, for so the people of Siberia
call their kings and priests, who are wizards.
poem by Juliusz Slowacki
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Trails Of A Face
As I travel the trails of a face
two lakes of brilliant blue lay quite
on the foothills of a lonely peak
Great canyons of age stretch long
across the open plains, concluding
in the gaping abyss that spits
forth our soul. All this i see
as i travel the trails of a face
poem by Jackson Taymans
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The Ancient India
India is ample known
For its three thousand year old
Civilization brought in by Aryans,
Who invaded as nomads.
It is little known for its prior
Civilization lived by Dravidians
In Mohanjo daro and Harappa,
About five thousand years ago.
It is little known at all
For its ten thousand year old
Civilization planted
By Mundas and Santals,
Now tribes on hillocks,
Branded the most backward.
18.07.2000, Plkmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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End Of All Things
Every city has its history.
History of great wars!
History of great works!
What makes a civilization great
Are the noble thoughts of noble men.
Savages are killed
And the empires built!
Draping of huge towers and artistic halls
Decorate the ageing
Frame of the ever-growing city.
Ballads are sung
For great many victories and achievements
Of great many kings!
But no one cares
To sing an Elegy
Of love lost
In the busy alleys
Of the towering cities!
Today,
Things worth nothing are everything.
People known since ages are now unknown.
Thoughts like parasites
Thrive on the dying emotions of heart.
Churches are libraries of knowledge.
And Bible just a fiction.
Man has ceased to live.
Only thing that he does is ‘EXISTS.’
His creations are the prophecies of his fall!
Civilization is built
On the debris of Barbarism.
It grows.
It develops.
And it culminates
To nothing but debris.
Because the highest peak
Of every civilization is Barbarism!
End of all things!
poem by Aditya Chandrasen Salvi
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Gone are the Hard Men
Gone are the hard men,
no longer scouting trails across the west,
nor leading wagon trains to Oregon,
nor trapping the beaver in far valleys,
nor lonely mapping the wilderness
in the van of civilization,
nor building railroads across America with
shovels and mauls and appetites for hard work
and hard women and whiskey by the barrel.
Where are they gone, these hero men,
now the frontiers have been plowed down
and wilderness long fled to the city?
Where are they gone, these child-men,
now the nation is civilized and schooled
and technology mocks their souls?
They are in the prisons of America.
They are in the asylums of America.
They are in the drunk-tanks of dreary,
self-righteous cities.
They are squatting beside a sad fire
near Sacramento tonight,
nursing their bottles of 'Mad Dog'
and eating canned Spam.
poem by Daniel Fox
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Lonely Cities Of The Heart
As the midnight fades in boys town
And the hustle stops to glow
This urban landscape sprawls before me
And the hunger starts to grow
But something more than my daddy showed to me
How he wanted to make a man of me
Living in the lonely cities of the heart
Hiding in the shadows and searching in the dark
My mama reads me like an open book
She knows when Im up or down
But every night I stay longer
In the creole part of town
Something more than what the good lord gave to me
Something more, much more than this
Living in the lonely cities of the heart
Hiding in the shadows, searching in the dark
And it never stops, no it never stops, no one defends you now
Living in the lonely cities of the heart
(instrumental)
I can take a little pain, but not tonight again
Outside my hotel window I hear the mardi gras
Keep the candle burning bright babe, Ive come too far
As daylight creeps through the curtains I start to slip away,
And everything that seems so certain is just another day
Living in the lonely cities of the heart
Hiding in the shadows searching in the dark
And it never stops, no it never stops, no one defends you now
Living in the lonely cities of the heart
Hiding in the shadows searching in the dark
And it never stops, no it never stops, no one defends you now
Living in the lonely cities of the heart
Living in the lonely cities of the heart...
song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My fathers planted for me, and I planted for my children.
The Land of Counterpane
When I was sick and lay a-bed,
I had two pillows at my head,
And all my toys beside me lay,
To keep me happy all the day.
And sometimes for an hour or so
I watched my leaden soldiers go,
With different uniforms and drills,
Among the bed-clothes, through the hills;
And sometimes sent my ships in fleets
All up and down among the sheets;
Or brought my trees and houses out,
And planted cities all about.
I was the giant great and still
That sits upon the pillow-hill,
And sees before him, dale and plain,
The pleasant land of counterpane.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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With precision
All established facts and routes
Carry the name and bear the fruits
Nothing is lost except old civilization
Yet to be remembered for its great organization
We live in new world with precision
To come near is our decision
To preserve rich heritage is blessed with provision
To look back with wisdom and good vision
Who will take care and preserve records?
Research on each and every decoded word
We have to live by and adhere to old spirit
We are proud of ancient land under our feet
It must have ancient roots with authenticity
Many might have been lost tail with coming up of new cities
Yet excavations bring so many startling revelations
It is healthy sign and good indication
We can build from stretch and rewrite history
It should not seem imaginary story
It has to be backed by scientific research
We will then only be able to find more on search
Some of the historic sites are just an example
They have been able to withstand and capable
Any decay that was to be caused by weather
Rest were possible by human efforts to wither
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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There For A Reason
Anyone choosing to go against a grain,
Believing that nicks seen in an established pattern...
Isn't noticed,
But gets pricked for efforts to remove them...
For a smoother surface.
Will learn soon enough...
To leave what appears obvious alone.
Since what is 'not' obvious to many,
May be there for a reason to condone.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Characteristics Of Lonely People
Are there any obvious
Characteristics of lonely people?
Something that differentiates
Them from the unlonely people?
Do they not talk vivaciosly?
Or do they talk too much?
Do they value their privacy
Much too much?
Do they have a far away
Haunted look in their eyes?
Can they be spotted by cupid's spies?
When you see them, do you look away?
Are there any obvious
Characteristics of lonely people?
Or are unlonely people
Oblivious
To the lonely
Amonst them?
poem by Lonely People Champion
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Best known by culture
Any country will be best known by culture it has
It can present proudly the best possible face
It would be considered then civilized nation
To raise head in recognition with simple elation
The statesmen and heroes come next to adore
Even though they might have done extra or more
The country can afford luxury of being called generous
Rich in deep cultural heritage and prosperous
Dynasties after dynasties ruled vast chunk of land
Ruled for long after annexing and subjugating their land
The civilization has deep roots in culture and literature
It gives immense advantage to be measured for sure
The treasure can be taken away or stolen
Its impression can not be wiped out or forgotten
It will remain for centuries buried under land
To be excavated and shaped as forbidden dreamland
It may speak of the golden time it had enjoyed
The coins and clay pots may reveal what tact they had employed
The rich tradition in craft can shed the light on old technology
And some knowledge on geology and good ecology
Some of the cities speak well of their ancient heritage
It sustained the blow with devastating blow and age
The heavy wind and earth quakes might have ruined the structures
Though enough has been found out to be read in scriptures
The Romans were great warriors with fine weaponry
Their conduct on and off the field was of highest standard and exemplary
Though some of the records coincide with the facts but different accounts vary
It is not known what might have been their fate in meeting with adversary
The pictures and scripts are decoded to throw some light
The time may come to their rescue to prove them right
Some of the opinions may be erroneous and faulty
It may be assessed rightly and strengthen by the faculty
Any such development in the field of literature is welcome
It might have been influenced by any out come
The legendry tales and folk songs still rule the mind of people
It may be still interesting subject for the most of the pupils
It is matter of great pride and honor to live with
Such fine tradition to exhibit without any filth
To make it as part of world archeology
Without raising any controversy or bogey
Many writers may claim it as privilege
Many may chide at it and commit sacrilege
I take it as an opportunity and explore
Any civilization or literature needs to be adored
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Star Spangled Banner
Oh say can you see
By the dawns early light
What so proudly we hail
And the twilights last gleaming
Whose broad stripes and bright stars
Through the perilous fight
For the ram-parts we watched
Where so galantly streaming
My country tis of thee
Sweet land of liberty
Of thee I sing
Land where my fathers died
Land of the Pilgrim's pride
From every mountain side
Let freedom ring
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
For the land of free
And the home of the brave!
song performed by by Boyz II Men
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Fathers Eyes
(by eric clapton)
Sailing down behind the sun,
Waiting for my prince to come.
Praying for the healing rain
To restore my soul again.
Just a toerag on the run.
How did I get here?
What have I done?
When will all my hopes arise?
How will I know him?
When I look in my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
When I look in my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
Then the light begins to shine
And I hear those ancient lullabies.
And as I watch this seedling grow,
Feel my heart start to overflow.
Where do I find the words to say?
How do I teach him?
What do we play?
Bit by bit, Ive realized
Thats when I need them,
Thats when I need my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
Thats when I need my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
Then the jagged edge appears
Through the distant clouds of tears.
Im like a bridge that was washed away;
My foundations were made of clay.
As my soul slides down to die.
How could I lose him?
What did I try?
Bit by bit, Ive realized
That he was here with me;
I looked into my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
I looked into my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
I looked into my fathers eyes.
My fathers eyes.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Invitation To The Blues
(roger miller)
Well I couldnt sleep last night
Just walked the floor
Dont know how Ill stand this anymore
Lonely all the time since I lost you
Received your invitation to the blues
I dont know why you cause me such pain
I just hope I just never go through this much again
Thanks for sending something I cant use
Received your invitation to the blues
You took the laughter from this world of mine
And thanks to you the sun will never shine
I walk the floor so much I wore out my shoes
I received your invitation to the blues
I dont know why you cause me such pain
I just hope I just never go through this much again
Well lonely me I dont know what to do
Received your invitation to the blues
I dont know why you cause me such pain
I just hope I never go though this much again
Thanks for sending something I cant use
Received your invitation to the blues
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Patteran
From over the leagues of ice and snow, and the miles of scorching sand;
From back of the days of long ago, and the lonely sea and land—
To the end of the world and our Gipsy race, to the death of our dark-eyed line,
I have set the lines on my children’s palms as my fathers did on mine,
That the world shall know and my name shall glow in the light of the aftershine—
I have set the lines on my children’s palms as my fathers did on mine.
I have given them health and strength, pure blood, clear skins for a glorious youth;
I have set in their souls contempt for sham, and a deathless regard for truth;
I have bequeathed the spirit to fight, I have given the will to rise,
And the slumbering fires of Hate and Love in their dreaming, dreaming eyes.
That the world shall know and my name shall glow in the light of the aftershine,
I have set the lines on my children’s palms as my fathers did on mine.
I have given the love for their native land, wherever that land may be
(My children came from the East, my friends, and round by the Northern Sea),
And a son of a son of mine enemy, to the end of his treacherous line,
Shall be stricken to earth, if he dare but speak, by a son of a son of mine.
That the world shall know and my name shall glow in the light of the aftershine,
I have set the lines on my children’s palms as my fathers did on mine.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Lonely.
Lonely on the land I walk
Lonely are the nights
Lonely are the days
Lonely and empty.
A lonely star in the night sky
Alone in the walks of life
A lonely day
A lonely tear falls down.
I am lonely and I am scared
Only one star graces the blue sky
As lonely as me.
Hold my hand.
I feel lonely, very lonely.
Marisa Taylor
poem by Maria Luisa Taylor
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The Neighbor
Strange violin, why do you follow me?
In how many foreign cities did you
speak of your lonely nights and those of mine.
Are you being played by hundreds? Or by one?
Do in all great cities men exist
who tormented and in deep despair
would have sought the river but for you?
And why does your playing always reach me?
Why is it that I am always neighbor
to those lost ones who are forced to sing
and to say: Life is infinitely heavier
than the heaviness of all things.
Translated by Albert Ernest Flemming
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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I Shall Not Be Moved
(words & music by homer morris)
Well lordy I shall not be, I shall not be moved
I shall not be, I shall not be moved
Just like a tree thats growin in the meadow (down by the water)
I shall not be moved
Im on my way to glory land and I shall not be moved
On my way to glory land I will not be moved
Im like a tree thats planted by the water
I shall not be moved
I shall not be, I shall not be moved
I shall not be, I shall not be moved
Just like a tree thats planted by the water
I shall not be moved
I shall not be, I shall not be moved
I shall not be, I shall not be moved
Just like a tree thats planted by the water
I shall not be moved
Well Im on my way to glory land and I shall not be moved
On my way to glory land I shall not be moved
Im like a tree thats planted by the water
I shall not be moved
Oh well
I shall not be, I shall not be moved
I shall not be, I shall not be moved
Just like a tree thats planted by the water
I shall not be moved
On this rock of ages, I shall not be moved
On this rock of ages, I shall not be moved
Just like a tree thats planted by the water
I shall not be moved
Glory, glory, glory hallelujah, I shall not be moved
Glory hallelujah, I shall not be moved
Just like a tree thats planted by the water
I shall not be moved
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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