The most persistent sound which reverberates through man's history is the beating of war drums.
quote by Arthur Koestler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Song Of The Beating Drums We’re Never Apart
The song of the beating drums we’re never apart
Overfills a dam just like a beating flood
The beating love for a beating heart
The beating song of a beating heart
Play the song of the beating drums
The love lust of the beating blood
Always together never ever apart
The beating song of the drums
Crashing through everything
We’re here for each other
Never ever beating apart
Just like a beating heart
Our beating hearts
The Beating Song OF The Drums
The beating song of the drums
The beating song of a beating heart
The love lust of the beating blood
Overfills a dam just like a beating flood
Crashing through everything
Never ever beating apart
The beating love for a beating heart
Just like a beating heart
Always together never ever apart
We’re here for each other
Our beating hearts
Play the song of the beating drums
The song of the beating drums we’re never apart
The Drums of Battersea
They can’t hear in West o’ London, where the worst dine with the best—
Deaf to all save lies and laughter, they can’t hear in London West—
Tailored brutes and splendid harlots, and the parasites that be—
They can’t hear the warning thunder of the Drums of Battersea.
More drums! War drums!
Drums of Misery—
Beating from the hearts of men—the Drums of Battersea.
Where the hearses hurry ever, and where man lives like a beast,
They can feel the war-drums beating—men of Hell! and London East.
And the far-off foreign farmers, fighting fiercely to be free,
Found new courage in the echo of the Drums of Battersea.
More drums! War drums!
Beating for the free—
Beating on the hearts of men—the Drums of Battersea.
And the drummers! Ah! the drummers!—stern and haggard men are those
Standing grimly at their meetings; and their washed and mended clothes
Speak of worn-out wives behind them and of grinding poverty—
But the English of the English beat the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
Drums of agony—
The big bruised heart of England’s in the Drums of Battersea.
Where in fields slave Englishwomen, Oh! the sound of drums is there:
I have heard it in the laughter of the nights of Leicester Square—
Sailing southward with the summer, London but a dream to me,
Still I feel the distant thunder of the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
Drums of Liberty—
Rolling round the English world—the Drums of Battersea.
Oh! I heard them in the Queen’s Hall—aye! and London heard that night—
While we formed up round the leaders while they struck one blow for right!
And the old strength, that old fire, that I thought was dead in me,
Blazed up fiercely at the beating of the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
They beat for victory—
When above the roar of Jingoes rolled the Drums of Battersea.
And where’er my feet may wander, and howe’er I lay my head,
I shall hear them while I’m dreaming—I shall hear them when I’m dead!
For they beat for men and women, beat for Christ, and you and me:
There is hope and there is terror in the Drums of Battersea!
More drums! War drums!
Drums of destiny—
There’s hope!—there’s hope for England in the Drums of Battersea.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Sound Of Drums
I hear the sound of drums on a melody
I hear the sound of drums
Well, singing the names above in the city
Yeah, revolution for fun
I feel the time has come like a remody
I feel the time has come
Were shaking the spear of love in the city
Yeah, I hear the sound of drums
Yeah, can you feel the love for me, yeah yeah
I feel the time has come
I hear the sound of drums
I hear the sound of drums on a melody,
Calling me to return
Well, I laugh and catch the sun
cause its gonna be revolution for fun
Yeah, can you feel the love for me, yeah yeah
I feel the time has come
I hear the sound of drums..oh oohh...
Well, I feel the time has come with the melody
I see the golden one
Well, Im not the only one with the remedy
Im not the only one
I feel the time has come
I hear the sound of drums
song performed by by Kula Shaker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Hearts As One
A single heartbeat
Reverberates the ether
Returns twice beating.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Sleepless
If I could have your arms tonight-
But half the world and the broken sea
Lie between you and me.
The autumn rain reverberates in the courtyard,
Beating all night against the barren stone,
The sound of useless rain in the desolate courtyard
Makes me more alone.
If you were here, if you were only here-
My blood cries out to you all night in vain
As sleepless as the rain.
poem by Sara Teasdale
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Giving Hope A Chance...
we are assured about the sound
of drum beats
from all the continents of the world
so assuring
that hope has given birth to more children
of hopes
the women dance and the men beat the drums
the children watch for a while
and liking the sounds of these drums beating
slowly then wildly and then
contagiously exciting
the children begin to clap their hands
and step their toes
sway their bodies
and sing the songs of hope
again
the world spins
the universe sways and gives birth to another star
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Drums of Ages
Drums of all that’s right and wrong—of love and hate and scorn,
And the new-born baby hears them and it wails when it is born.
Drums of all that is to be, and all that has gone by,
And we hear them when we’re dreaming, and we hear them while we die.
Drums of martyred innocence and drums of driven guilt
Beating backward from the future when the first rude town was built;
Beating louder through the slave days and the dark and hungry nights,
While the hovels filled the valleys and the castles crowned the heights;
Beating louder while the mansions shifted east from miles of slums—
Don’t you hear them? Don’t you hear them? Don’t you hear the alley drums?
Drums of human sacrifice and drums of war at home—
While the Romans conquered nations they were beating loud in Rome.
Children heard them through the ages, mothers paused and glanced behind,
Madmen saw and heard the drummers, but the rest were deaf and blind.
Peasants starved on fields of plenty, workmen rotted in the slums—
Till the drummers came to Paris and the nations heard the drums.
Drums of hope and bursting hearts—the drums of Westward Ho!—
From the homes of generations and their native land they go.
’Groom and bride and grey-haired mother, bent old men who go alone—
Fleeing bitter persecution for the terrible unknown:
Seeking freedom, rest, or justice—and the peace that never comes—
And the wilderness was conquered when the pilgrims beat their drums.
Drums of Greed that followed fast where men had made the way,
Waking drums of stern rebellion when the exiles turned at bay,
Spreading death and desolation, breeding old-world hells anew,
Until England lost a nation for the blindness of a few.
Still the dirty Jewish talon reached from palaces and slums
Till a hundred thousand English died to stop the farmers’ drums.
Drums of tortured hearts o’ men—the drums that never ceased—
Throbbing through the British Empire from the heart of London East;
Growling louder still wherever, in the wake of those who lead,
Comes the murmur of the board-room and the stealthy steps of greed;
Growling through the Southern cities, murmuring in the Western gums,
Till the Empire falls to pieces at the beating of the drums!
Drums of all that’s right and wrong—of love and hate and scorn;
And the new-born baby hears them, and he wails when he is born.
Drums of all that is to be, and all that has gone by—
And we hear there when we’re dreaming, and we hear then while we die.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Inside Of Yours....
the sound you hear,
not someone knocking at the door...
not a branch blown against the window,
not the barking of a distant dog.
tis not thunder, or gunfire,
nor the shout of an angry mob.
tis not God, or Satan, or destiny,
not even the growl of the hungry.
it's not tomorrow, yesterday,
or the drums of despair....
not the low voice of doubt,
or the cry of injustice!
listen closely, be still,
stop thinking and defining...
for the sound you hear is just my heart,
beating inside of yours!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Please Do Not Resist
At nighttime I have found my mind,
Can not unwind.
You've got my insight on a hold...
All thoughts I've left behind.
And I know you're not the kind,
To try to probe and define me.
And feeling good I surely do...
Because of you it's true.
A taste I want a little bit...
Of it.
Yes.
A taste I want a little bit,
But I am not a quitter.
I know I'll try to get as much of it,
As I can get.
Oh I know I am persistent...
And it's to your benefit.
A taste I want a little bit...
Of it.
Yes.
A taste I want a little bit,
But I am not a quitter.
And...
I know I'll try to get as much of it,
As I can get.
Oh I know I am persistent...
And it's to your benefit.
And I know you're not the kind,
To try to probe and define me.
And feeling good I surely do.
Because of you it's true.
A taste I want a little bit...
Of it.
Yes.
A taste I want a little bit,
But I am not a quitter.
I know I'll try to get as much of it,
As I can get.
Oh I know I am persistent...
And it's to your benefit.
A taste I want a little bit...
Of it.
Yes.
A taste I want a little bit,
But I am not a quitter.
I know I'll try to get as much of it,
As I can get.
Oh I know I am persistent...
And it's to your benefit.
Oh I know I am persistent...
And from me you can't resist!
Oh I know I am persistent...
And from me you can't resist!
I know I am persistent!
You can not resist.
I know I am persistent!
You can not resist.
A taste I want a little bit.
Please do not resist.
A taste I want a little bit.
Please do not resist.
A taste I want a little bit.
Please do not resist.
I know I am persistent!
You can not resist.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dead Soldiers, And Bones!
dead soldiers...
beating on tin drums
with bones,
that used to wear faces!
small children singing,
songs of coming and going,
leaving the eerie taste
of things forgotten.
the field fresh plowed,
drowned by morning rain,
waits for the bodies
that seed the future.
while priests chant
neath stained glass windows.
the sun weary with bringing,
finds its way on the path.
the fresh dug graves
mourn with the ache,
longing for the thrust
of love's denial.
and dead soldiers march
across fog driven plains,
beating on tin drums
with bones,
that used to wear faces!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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That Beating Of The Bush
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
I have this 'thing' about honest and truth.
And those who become offended,
By declaring them too harsh to accept!
There has not been an experience I received,
I regretted with a wish to forget!
And those attempting to live their lives,
In pretense to deceive believing this is not deception...
Will always escape with excuses and alibis to make.
Charading as if...
No one recognizes,
Who is in masquerade.
And who amongst them fakes!
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
An honesty and truth spoken,
From deceivers is rare.
Those who deceive perceive...
Those who are direct and honest,
Are insensitive and do not care!
With a sharing of this mentality...
To those empathetic,
In a keeping of delusions...
Spared from despair!
But I know I'm not the only one...
Who elects to see,
Dishonesty from all people get up and leave.
I can't be!
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
I'm not into,
The beating of the bush.
That beating of the bush.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Am Wolf
In the night it is my cry you hear
that carries on the echoes of the wind
the sound of ancient drums beating
my eye's that gaze right through you
from the shadows of your soul
it is my heart that beats from within
that protects you from that which you fear
in times you feel you can't make it through
it is my wisdom and strength that makes you whole
my hunger for knowledge you are feeding
it is my Spirit that keeps you free
for I am wolf, I am in you
and you are in me
and one we will always be
Spiritwind-2012
poem by Spiritwind Wood
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Let There Be Rock
In the beginning
Back in nineteen fifty-five
Man didnt know about a rock n roll show
And all that jive
The white man had the smoltz
The black man had the blues
No one knew what they was gonna do
But tchaikovsky had the news
He said -
Let there be light, and there was light
Let there be sound, and there was sound
Let there be drums, and there was drums
Let there be guitar, and there was guitar
Let there be rock
And it came to pass
That rock n roll was born
All across the land every rockin band
Was blowing up a storm
The guitarman got famous
The businessman got rich
And in every bar there was a super star
With a seven year itch
There were fifteen million fingers
Learning how to play
And you could hear the fingers picking
And this is what they had to say
Let there be light
Sound
Drums
Guitar
Let there be rock
One night in a club called 'the shaking hand
There was a ninety-two decibel rocking band
The music was good and the music was loud
And the singer turned and he said to the crowd -
Let there be rock
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Beat Goes On
Drums keep pounding rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da
Wait till you have reached the age
Blah blah
History has turned the page
Blah blah
We still want to hear a brand new thing
Uh huh
We still need a song to sing
Uh huh
And the beat goes on (6x)
Drums keep pounding rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da
Love is a thirsting, lasting on my mind
From tomorrow until the end of time
And the beat goes on (4x)
And the beat goes
And the beat goes
And the beat goes on
Drums keep pounding rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da
We still move to a rhythm just like this
We still dream of sharing our first kiss
And the beat goes on (4x)
Drums keep pounding rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da
Well our kids are turning faster everyday (everyday)
We still want to dance the night away
And the beat goes on
And the beat goes on
And the beat goes on
And the beat goes on...
(to fade)
song performed by by Britney Spears
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time's sigh
messages flow
from Africa
declaring defiance
of time
in the beating
of the drums
bare hands
keep serving the air
with sound
together I am
one person
a woman
not alone
my feet walk
this earth
hardened
by the mistreatment
of many hearts
the hearts
of the souls
of Africa
my eyes search
through the sound
of the few
for a beam of love
and compassion
for a tune unbound
but reach you not
the king's tongue
is further away
away from women-
and children abide
in beds of straw
in a land over there
where waterless cups
and power
without grace
could bind big hands
in disgrace
in the rhythm
of stones
and tripling bones
oh for the timely
sound of dew
on the tongue
of the moderately new
for while time
is ticking
somewhere feet
are slamming
ignoring the cadence
of the stone choir singing-
children are kept quiet
under leaking roofs
the beat of history
is a thudding of hoofs
on the white bone
of Africa's
reluctance for peace
softly a leopard
is waiting
on the back
of a bull
timely
for nations
to see
the weeping
of Africa
on a landslide
where time
collides in coins
of dust
for all ways
take a day
in a thousand
or an hour
in a minute
is over
in a second
will you
surrender then
to the smoke
of people's rights
or keep on
dancing on needs
in the name
of change to
a better world
for all…
for there is
no ruling
over time
but Jerusalem
Beating the drums for Hawaii is not hard to do... the place just grows on you.
quote by James MacArthur
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All I ever wanted to do was play the drums; I felt good about myself when I played the drums. So I worked anywhere and everywhere I could lug my drums in.
quote by Max Weinberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I am in full dream
Long long miles away from you
Under the open deep blue sky
Besides the ever flowing river
I stand alone, and feel very lonely
My heart and mind is open to listen
The mystic music of nature deeply
the sound of the cricket seems to me
is the best, sweeter of the sweetest
Blowing of the wind is very soothing
The firefly dances with the singing
Of the birds, and the golden sun adds
Some colours, the call of the fox is like
Beating of the drums, the occasional sound
Of the frogs in the water is thrilling enough,
the his his sound of leaves raises my hairs
the queen, night, comes in along with moon light
I swallow the beauty with delight.
I wanted to share with you, ah! I miss you very much,
The worries of my life crowded out but your memories crowded in
now I am in full dream along with your memories mingled
with the beauty of the moon.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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