Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin they think of firelit homes, clean beds, and wives.
quote by Siegfried Sassoon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dreamers
Soldiers are citizens of death's gray land,
Drawing no dividend from time's to-morrows.
In the great hour of destiny they stand,
Each with his feuds, and jealousies, and sorrows.
Soldiers are sworn to action; they must win
Some flaming, fatal climax with their lives.
Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin
They think of firelit homes, clean beds, and wives.
I see them in foul dug-outs, gnawed by rats,
And in the ruined trenches, lashed with rain,
Dreaming of things they did with balls and bats,
And mocked by hopeless longing to regain
Bank-holidays, and picture shows, and spats,
And going to the office in the train.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dreamers
Soldiers are citizens of death's gray land,
Drawing no dividend from time's to-morrows.
In the great hour of destiny they stand,
Each with his feuds, and jealousies, and sorrows.
Soldiers are sworn to action; they must win
Some flaming, fatal climax with their lives.
Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin
They think of firelit homes, clean beds, and wives.
I see them in foul dug-outs, gnawed by rats,
And in the ruined trenches, lashed with rain,
Dreaming of things they did with balls and bats,
And mocked by hopeless longing to regain
Bank-holidays, and picture shows, and spats,
And going to the office in the train.
poem by Siegfried Sassoon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let The Day Begin
Released on cd single have I told you lately, 1993
(michael been)
Heres to the babies in a brandnew world
Heres to the beauty and the stars
Heres to the travellers on open road
Heres to the dreamers in the bars
Heres to the teachers in the crowded rooms
Heres to the workers in the field
Heres to the preachers of the sacred world
Heres to the drivers on the wheel
Heres to you my little love
With blessings from above
Now let the day begin
Heres to you my little love
With blessings from above
Now let the day begin, (let) the day begin, ha
Heres to the winners of the human race
Heres to the losers in the game
Heres to the soldiers of the bitter war
Heres to the war that bears their name
Heres to you my little love
With blessings from above
Now let the day begin, the day begin, the day ( )
Heres to the doctors in the healing world
Heres to the loved ones in their care
Heres to the strangers on the streets tonight
Heres to the lonely everywhere
Heres to the wisdom from ( )
Heres to the lions in their cage
Heres to the struggle of the ( )
Heres to the clothing of the age
Heres to you my little love
With blessings from above
Now let the day begin
Heres to you my little love
With blessings from above
Now let the day begin, the day begin
Heres to you my little love
With blessings from above
Now let the day begin, let the day begin, let the day, oh yeah
Now let the day begin, oh yeah
Heres to you my little love
With blessings from above
Now let the day begin, let the day begin, let the day, ( )
Oh yeah
Yeah
Come on
Come on
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Little Homes
We have heard the cheering, brothers,
We have heard the martial peal;
We have seen the soldiers marching
And the glint of sun and steel.
We have heard the songs, the shouting;
But, while forth the soldier roams,
Who has heard the weeping, brothers,
In the Little Homes?
We have seen the gay processions
And the careless, laughing crowds.;
We have seen the banners waving
Out against the peaceful clouds;
Yet, while colors proudly flutter
Over noble spires and domes,
Who has seen the mourning, brothers,
In the Little Homes?
From the Little Homes that nestle
Where the smiling fields sweep wide,
From the Little Homes that huddle
In the city, side by side,
They have called the eager fighters
Men who went with smiles and cheers;
Pride of wives and pride of mothers,
Choking back the tears!
Women of the little homesteads,
Women of the city slums,
They are waiting, ever waiting;
And the sound of muffled drums
In some stricken Home is echoed,
Where grey Grief is guest to-day.
And to-morrow? Nay, the others
Still must wait - and pray.
What the Little Homes shall suffer,
What the Little Homes shall pay
Must be more than sturdy fighters,
More than women's grief to-day.
In the years that follow after,
Be our battles won or lost,
In the Little Homes, my brothers,
They shall pay the cost.
They shall pay the cost of glory,
They shall pay the price of peace,
Years and many long years after
All the sounds of battle cease.
When the sword is sheathed - or broken
When the battle flag is furled,
Still the Little Homes must suffer
Over all the World.
Have you seen the old grey mothers
Smiling to the ringing cheers?
Have you seen the young wives striving
Bravely to hold back the tears?
Have you seen the young girl marching
By her soldier-lover's side?
Have you, seen our country's women
All aglow with pride?
Then, shall we think shame, my brothers,
To give thanks upon our knees
That the land we love should hold them
Wives and mothers such as these?
Women who still hide their sorrow
As their soldiers march away,
Turning brave and steadfast faces
To the light of day?
Oh, the Little Homes are Cheerful
Little Homes that know no pride
But the pride of sacrificing
Loved ones to the battle tide!
They are many, many brothers,
And their sacrifice is great.
Shrines are they and sacred places,
Where the women wait.
Aye, the Little Homes are holy
At the closing of the day,
When young wives must face their sorrow,
When grey mothers kneel to pray,
Facing, all alone, dread visions
Of the land the soldier roams,
Then God heed the sobbing, brothers,
In the Little Homes.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Dreamers
Black eyed ravens
They spiral down
They tilt his head back
To the flame filled sunset
Raise their guns high
As the darken falls
These are the days boys
Shallow man
Shallow man (shallow man) and they
Eats in the doorways with his head inclined
And hes always in decline
No-one hears anymore
So he shrinks as they ride
Under vermillion skies
So it goes (so it goes)
Just a searcher (so it goes)
Lonely soul (so it goes)
The last of the dreamers (so it goes)
Shallow man
Shallow man
Speaks to the shadows
Moves his trembling hands
And hes always a little late
For the dawning of the day
So it goes (so it goes)
Just a searcher (so it goes)
Lonely soul (so it goes)
The last of the dreamers (so it goes)
(so it goes) just a searcher
(so it goes) lonely soul
(so it goes) the last of the dreamers (so it goes)
(so it goes) just a searcher
(so it goes) lonely soul
(so it goes) the last of the dreamers (so it goes)
(so it goes)
(so it goes)
(so it goes)
(so it goes)
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Among the Red Guns
Among the red guns,
In the hearts of soldiers
Running free blood
In the long, long campaign:
Dreams go on.
Among the leather saddles,
In the heads of soldiers
Heavy in the wracks and kills
Of all straight fighting:
Dreams go on.
Among the hot muzzles,
In the hands of soldiers
Brought from flesh-folds of women--
Soft amid the blood and crying--
In all your hearts and heads
Among the guns and saddles and muzzles:
Dreams,
Dreams go on,
Out of the dead on their backs,
Broken and no use any more:
Dreams of the way and the end go on.
poem by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Guns
Tiny people, with little guns
Little armies march, to little drums
What do they want?
What do they want?
Tiny soldiers, with little guns
Little tanks, no bigger than your thumb
They want you
Little people, with tiny brains
Little bullets flowing, in their veins
What do they want?
What do they want?
Tiny people with little guns
Little armies march, to little drums
They want you, you
You, you, you, you
Little airplanes, with tiny bombs
Little squadrons, dropping thimbles of napalm
They want you
What do they want?
What do they want?
Tiny people, with little guns
Little armies march, to little drums
You, you
You, you, you, you
Tiny people, little guns
Tiny people, little guns
Tiny people, little guns
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Come Back Clean
This is the song for a soldier
To sing as he rides from home
To the fields afar where the battles are
Or over the ocean's foam:
'Whatever the dangers waiting
In the lands I have not seen,
If I do not fall-if I come back at all,
Then I will come back clean.
'I may lie in the mud of the trenches,
I may reek with blood and mire,
But I will control, by the God in my soul,
The might of my man's desire.
I will fight my foe in the open,
But my sword shall be sharp and keen
For the foe within who would lure me to sin,
And I will come back clean.
'I may not leave for my children
Brave medals that I have worn,
But the blood in my veins shall leave no stains
On bride or on babes unborn;
And the scars that my body may carry
Shall not be from deeds obscene,
For my will shall say to the beast,
Obey
!
And I will come back clean.
'Oh, not on the fields of slaughter
And not in the prison-cell,
Or in hunger and cold is the story told
By war, of its darkest hell.
But the old, old sin of the senses
Can tell what that word may mean
To the soldiers' wives and to innocent lives,
And I will come back clean.'
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soldiers who are not afraid of guns, bombs, capture, torture or death say they are afraid of homosexuals. Clearly we should not be used as soldiers; we should be used as weapons.
The Beds Too Big Without You
Beds too big without you
Cold wind blows right thru my open door
I cant sleep with your memory
Dreaming dreams of what used to be
When she left I was cold inside
That look on my face was just pride
No regrets no love no tears
Living on my own was the least of my fears
Beds too big without you
The beds too big without you
The beds too big
Without you
Since that day when youd gone
Just had to carry on
I get thru day but late at night
Made love to my pillow but it didnt feel right
Every day, just the same
Old rules for the same old game
All I gained was heartache
All I made was one mistake
Now the beds too big without you
The beds too big without you
The beds too big
Without you
song performed by by Police
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Illiteracy
some homes breed love
some homes breed hatred
some homes breed moderation
some homes breed extremes
some homes breed worldliness
some homes breed racism
some homes breed kindness
somehomes breed religious bigotry
throw in illiteracy and any country would be bloom to bits
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Clean
Eat clean,
Live clean,
Sleep clean,
dress clean,
Walk clean,
Learn clean,
Play clean,
Think clean,
dance clean,
Talk clean,
Sing clean,
work clean,
Because the world around you is watching what you do;
You are the only one on this earth,
So live and let us live too.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When The Break Ensued
The curfew was imposed,
The women, men and children
Of the valley were banned
To come out of the houses.
The whole hot day of June
Was spent in exchange of fire,
The volleys of bullets went overhead
With the buzzing sounds;
Sometime mortars and heavy guns
Came in action too.
The soldiers roved in the deserted streets
All resistant with weapons,
As if the ghosts were discarded,
From the door of purgatory,
And they all came back to launch a war
Against the countrymen.
Their mother and daughters, sisters and wives,
Sitting afar are baffled to think upon,
Whether they would return in persons
Or with silver medals, wrapped in coffins.
Motars, guns instilled fear in the spheres,
No one dared come out of the huts,
The nation remained watching the show on TV,
The commanders remained busy in the lodges
In drinking, eating and chatting.
When tut, tut, tut of the guns Gs III ceased,
And the break in curfew ensued,
The residents of the battled valley
Men, women and children came out of the abodes
With scythes in hands, they ran to the farms,
To harvest over dried wheat-crop,
And to pick over-ripe fruit hanging on the trees.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Say No to war..
He was just seventeen and four months,
The son of the humble peasant,
Recruited to be the cook in the barracks, but,
Given two grenades to destroy two machine guns,
Strong enemies with imported weapons,
His country fighting for freedom,
Instructed to throw at them,
He crawled to their destination,
The noise from the machine guns,
Deafened the ears of the soldiers,
Then there was silence for a second,
The young man threw one at the first post,
‘allah' the call could be heard,
Mother land soldiers hiding and watching,
The action of the young cook turned a soldier,
Then he threw the second grenade to the second post,
The enemies were annihilated, so was the brave man,
Broken forehead spilled out his brain,
The stream suddenly changed into red saline,
The soldiers ran to rescue the body,
To confer the highest order,
of military honor.
Say No to war.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Toy Soldier
I have a toy soldier that sits high up on my shelf,
I'm not allowed to play with him, so he sits there by himself,
He looks so alone, yet so handsome and tall,
As he watches over me... fighting for us all. I wish that I could reach him, just to tell him that I care,
But, I am yet too small to reach him way up there,
Even though he can't hear me, I pray for him each night,
I pray for peace on earth..so he won't have to fight. As I grew taller and wiser, I begin to understand,
That the toy soldier upon my shelf was a picture of a man.
As I reached out for it, I was able to finally see
That the toy soldier that I admired...looked just like me. Our soldiers are not wooden, they have a family somewhere,
They have wives and children and parents who care,
And though they can't hear us, we pray each night
That our toy soldiers...won't have to fight.
poem by Vickie Forrest Wiggs
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Peace Is Everywhere
Starless sky is my blanket,
when I sit in my roof top garden.
Still trees are my escorts,
Hiding me from shine, rain and intruders.
Flying airplanes with flicking lights,
yellow lamps at the streets,
red lights at the tip of high rises,
are for my visual pleasure.
Quiet neighborhood with barking dogs,
Clean roads with bustling vehicles,
Security guards calling one another,
while the bosses dipped themselves,
in air con noise and imported comforters.
How peaceful this place is,
when people have their rest.
Caged apartment and fumed air,
Down on the road, should I call it road? ,
Beside the weather and human ridden paths,
knee deep clogged ditches,
Men sleep in fetal position,
picturesque mosque are everywhere,
garbage collected using hands,
demand of men and screaming of women,
Yawning and shaking of beds,
Rickety trucks are on the roads,
Those rickshaws become their homes.
The men, thinking of wives at villages,
playing with their toys,
How peaceful this place is,
when people have their rest.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Army Dreamers
B.f.p.o.*
Army dreamers.
Mammys hero.
B.f.p.o.
Mammys hero.
Our little army boy
Is coming home from b.f.p.o.
Ive a bunch of purple flowers
To decorate a mammys hero.
Mourning in the aerodrome,
The weather warmer, he is colder.
Four men in uniform
To carry home my little soldier.
What could he do?
Should have been a rock star.
But he didnt have the money for a guitar.
What could he do?
Should have been a politician.
But he never had a proper education.
What could he do?
Should have been a father.
But he never even made it to his twenties.
What a waste --
Army dreamers.
Ooh, what a waste of
Army dreamers.
Tears oer a tin box.
Oh, jesus christ, he wasnt to know,
Like a chicken with a fox,
He couldnt win the war with ego.
Give the kid the pick of pips,
And give him all your stripes and ribbons.
Now hes sitting in his hole,
He might as well have buttons and bows.
What could he do?
Should have been a rock star.
But he didnt have the money for a guitar.
What could he do?
Should have been a politician.
But he never had a proper education.
What could he do?
Should have been a father.
But he never even made it to his twenties.
What a waste --
Army dreamers.
Ooh, what a waste of
Army dreamers.
Ooh, what a waste of all that
Army dreamers,
Army dreamers,
Army dreamers, oh...
(b.f.p.o.)
Did-n-did-n-did-n-dum...
Army dreamers.
Did-n-did-n-did-n-dum...
(mammys hero.)
(b.f.p.o.)
Army dreamers.
(mammys hero.)
(b.f.p.o.)
No harm heroes.
(mammys hero.)
(b.f.p.o.)
Army dreamers.
(mammys hero.)
(b.f.p.o.)
No harm heroes.
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stand By Your Beds
m gonna keep it in the family
Gotta straighten my face
Wanna keep it in the family
Savin? my disgrace
Like a tick-a time bomb inside ame
Been to the mount, seen the other side
Money back, number one, guaranteed
Sole-satisfied
Gimme, gimme, gimme it all
Gimme, gimme, gimme it all
Everybody celebrate, stand by your beds
By your beds
Easy access, easy led, stand by your beds
By your beds
Yknow its nothin? new Im telling you
Its always been around
Its the home made milkshake
Apple pies n? lemonade
Never turned down
Gimme, gimme, gimme it all
Gimme, gimme, gimme it all
Everybody celebrate, stand by your beds
By your beds
Easy access, easy led, stand by your beds
By your beds
Gimme, gimme, gimme it alll
Gimme, gimme, gimme it all
Everybody celebrate, stand by your beds
By your beds
Easy access, easy led, stand by your beds
By your beds
(rankin, agnew, hardwell......polygram/trinitron)
Published by nazareth (dunfermline) ltd.
Copyright 1994 polydor gmbh, hamburg
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Biology
Hello - Im back again
Havent seen you since I dont know why
Its been so long - but you seem so cold
Is it something youve been told
She said
So this is what you think of me
Going with some whore somewhere out in germany
I said baby
Baby cant you see
Its nothing to do with you and me
Nothing to do with my heart
Nothing to do with my head
Nothing to do with our home
Nothnig to do with our bed
Its just b-i-o-l-o-g-y
Cant you see
Its just biology
Biology - coming in between you and me
Your biology lesson starts here
And first of all I would make it clear
That the species known as males
Have these little white things with little white tails
Which
Multiply and start to shout
Its getting crowded down here - let us out
Once relieved - they start again
Its not a process controlled by the brain
Nothing to do with their hearts
Nothing to do with their heads
Nothing to do with their homes
Nothing to do with their beds
Its just b-i-o-l-o-g-y
Cant you see
Its just biology
Biology - coming in between you and me
She said thanks - Im so relieved
What your saying I can well believe
Now I know, I feel no shame
About dave and tony and phil and james
I said
Baby baby this cant be true
She said well whats right for you
Has to be
Right for me
In any case Im sure youll see
Its nothing to do with our hearts
Its nothing to do with our heads
Its nothing to do with our homes
Its nothing to do with our beds
Its just b-i-o-l-o-g-y
Cant you see
Its just biology
Biology - coming in between you and me
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mining Story
they scraped the hills
with trees
the green grasses of homes
are gone
they dug those big holes
looking for
metals
manganese, gold,
for your jewelries
and other accessories
coal for your
fuels
the natives are dislocated
the children lost their birds
chickens and pigs are butchered
for they have no place
to stay
the hills are like criminals
their heads cut off
the trails here are like
intestines
penetrating the
belly of this
earth
listen! do you hear the drunkards
the government and mining firms!
listen! do you hear the sounds of guns
and the last living screams of the
chieftains
the mayors whom they voted
betrayed them
listen! do you hear the explosions
of bombs
the mountains are cracking
skulls
brains are spilling on the
rocks
listen! do you hear the guards coming
with their M-16s
and barking dogs
Run! Run! Run for your lives
Lest you forget
We are the last chickens and
pigs alive
Do not look back
Those are the children and wives
of the chieftains
Those are the hungry natives
begging in the cities
Their Homes gone
Their Hopes shattered
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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