We are the only class in history that has been left to fight its battles alone, unaided by the ruling powers. White labor and the freed black men had their champions, but where are ours?
quote by Elizabeth Cady Stanton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The ideas of the ruling class are in every epoch the ruling ideas, i.e., the class which is the ruling material force of society, is at the same time its ruling intellectual force.
Humanity Silenced
Freed to parade ideals and charade.
As an attack is made,
To dismantle and fade its greatness.
They babble on in divisions!
As intentional conflicts,
Chip away common sense.
While an intensified diminishing,
Orchestrates an ending to their existence.
Entertwined to find themselves,
Warring to explore a lost greed.
They fight to succeed in victory.
But none comes to them...
In a blindness fed.
As they curse the living...
To praise those dead!
Recruited to bleed.
In steps that lead...
Humanity silenced!
With all mechanisms,
Successfully in place.
'We are the champions,
My friends.
We must keep fighting,
To the end.
We are the champions!
WE ARE The CHAMPIONS.
No time for losers...
Cause we are the champions,
Of the World! '
So sings...
Queen.
Note:
'We Are The Champions'
Performed by Queen
British rock band.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The tendency of taxation is to create a class of persons who do not labor, to take from those who do labor the produce of that labor, and to give it to those who do not labor.
quote by William Cobbett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The New Inner-City Slave Plantation
The now-a-day slave or labor force
The ruling-class determines the course
The political master’s pastor contorts
Politics and policy aborts
The new inner city slave-plantation
Human and civil rights violation with extreme taxation
Work like a blind jackass
Support and finance the ruling class
Being bi-partisan-just a mask
Cultured career criminals civilizing crass
The new inner city slave-plantation
Human and civil rights violation with extreme taxation
The political engineers of The Greater Good own
The inner city war-zone
The psychotropic drug sets the tone
Slavery as the new world order is the throne
The new inner city slave-plantation
Human and civil rights violation with extreme taxation
Multi-tasking a labor saving device
Freedom of movement has no right
Monopolized government enslaved all might
The inner city slave- plantation private and prime
Real estate blight
The new inner city slave-plantation
Human and civil rights violation with extreme taxation
The thirteenth amendment of the constitution
On the inner city slave-plantation no social, no economical,
No educational, no political absolution
On the inner city slave-plantation, indentured servants,
Chattel slaves, still considered Black Gold
By the God Fearing slave codes used to control
The new inner city slave-plantation
Human and civil rights violation with extreme taxation
On the new inner city slave-plantation
The American Flag can not wave
Even Democracy is revered as a Black Slave
poem by Josephine DixonBanks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We Are The Champions (feat. Anastacia And Cast)
I've paid my dues
Time after time
I've done my sentence
But committed no crime
And bad mistakes
I've made a few
I've had my share of sand kicked in my face
But I've come through
We are the champions - my friends
And we'll keep on fighting till the end
We are the champions
We are the champions
No time for losers
'cause we are the champions -
of the world
I've taken my bows
And my curtain calls
You brought me fame and fortune
and everything that goes with it -
I thank you all
But it's been no bed of roses
No pleasure cruise
I consider it a challenge before the whole human race
and I ain't gonna lose
We are the champions - my friends
And we'll keep on fighting till the end
We are the champions
We are the champions
No time for losers
'cause we are the champions -
of the world
We are the champions - my friends
And we'll keep on fighting till the end
We are the champions
We are the champions
No time for losers
'cause we are the champions
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm saying that the moral climate within the ruling class in this country is not that different from the moral climate within the ruling class of Hitler's Germany.
quote by David Clennon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Heroes Of Tureengarriffe
'Tis part of Duhallow and Sliabh Luacra history now how Sean Moylan and his men
Ambushed and inflicted heavy losses on the Black and Tans at Tureengarriffe Glen
Almost three decades before I was even born and all but nine decades ago
Since the heroes of North Cork and East kerry into the status of legends did grow
One thing that can be said of war is that heroes it never does fail to create
And even the victors of the smallest battles we always do see fit to celebrate
The winners write the history of the battles that's how it is and will always be
In the annals of Sliabh Luachra and Duhallow the heroes of Tureengarriffe created their own history
Around the fire-grate when I was a young boy the old men stories of battles told
They took up arms for Irish Independence when they were younger men in days of old
Long past their prime and they had done their fighting but at the end did it matter that much at all
The British left and the civil war then started which gave rise to the birth of Fine Gael and Fianna Fail,
The heroes of Tureengarrife now are resting in their towns and villages in cemeteries far away
Eventually they fell to the scythe of the reaper it can be said of them they had their day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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My Almighty Comes To Defend With A Rescue
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles from a saddle I no longer sit!
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles from a saddle I no longer sit!
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles.
I...
Do believe,
My Creator has a plan for me.
Without those battles,
Fought straddled to a saddle.
And I don't,
Fight any battle
Strapped high on any saddle.
No I don't,
Fight any battle
Strapped high on any saddle.
My Almighty comes,
To defend
With a rescue.
And to fight my battles.
Those battles fought from saddles.
My Almighty comes,
To defend
With a rescue.
And to fight my battles.
Those battles fought from saddles.
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles from a saddle I no longer sit!
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles from a saddle I no longer sit!
No more fighting battles.
No more fighting battles.
My Almighty comes,
To defend
With a rescue.
And to fight my battles.
Those battles fought from saddles.
My Almighty comes,
To defend
With a rescue.
And to fight my battles.
Those battles fought from saddles.
My Almighty comes,
To defend
With a rescue.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Clerk
The unsoiled hand, the sleek, black coat,
The senile, ledger-haunted hours,
The knowledge that my freeman's vote
Is humbly cast to please 'the powers,'
A futile spite against the mass,
A small, weak hate of Labor's side,
These privileges of Our Class
I cherish with a puny pride.
The sycophancy of the snob,
The day-long cringe, the life-long fear
That I may lose a steady job
That 'job genteel' I hold so dear
These be the splendid attributes
Of one who yearns to emulate
His master; and all work-soiled brutes
Regards with mean, reflected hate.
Not mine the arrogance of wealth,
No pride in honest labor mine;
But while I still hold life and health
My pet ambition is to shine
A small, pale star that faintly glows
In Fat's impressive firmament,
The while I earn mere food and clothes,
And help the boss to cent. per cent.
Ambition? E'en my timid soul
Dreams of a day when I shall rule;
When I may heckle and control
The trembling slaves of desk and stool;
When I shall be of Fat myself
Who now but dangles at his skirt.
A magnate! Armed with pow'r and pelf.
Meet recompense for eating dirt.
I mark the lowly toiler rage.
'Resist!' he cries. 'Resist! Unite!'
The while I sue for patronage -
A deferential parasite.
Then to my aid comes Pride of Class,
I take my stand beside the Boss.
I earn his praise! .... Although, alas,
His gain, mayhap, will be my loss.
For who would risk a master's ire
That deity who rules my life,
That god who may, in vengeance dire,
Snatch happiness from 'child' and wife?
'Rights!' shout the horny-handed. 'Rights!'
The dolts defy the pow'rs that be.
While I watch through the restless nights
And tremble for my salary.
Oh. what rash madness moves these clods?
E'en my own fellow serfs, alas,
Speak treason 'gainst the money-gods
And turn black traitors to Our Class.
Our Class! That genteel, cultured band,
Well-dressed, respectable, elite
The servile mind, the soft white hand
Patrician class of Collins~street!
Cohorts of Collins-street, arise!
O legions, wake in Finders-land!
Let each pale hero rcognise
His class, and fight with might and mian.
Fight for the master sturdily!
What though his profit be our loss?
And let our watchword ever be,
Or Class! OUR BILLET, and OUR BOSS!
The sleek, black coat, the unsoiled hand,
The proud assertion of the worm.
Behold the Class! Oh, noble band!
Mild, desk-worn yoemen of 'The Firm.'
With swagger of the over-dressed.
With meekness of the underpaid,
They flout the plaint of the oppressed,
And stare at Liberty, afraid.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Few Are Champions
I make mistakes and need to be challenged.
But few are champions I seek to feed my thoughts,
Wishing to become ambitioned by their left impressions.
Few are champions.
And those steps made I take,
Are often criticized for the appetite displayed.
Leaving me to miss,
An atmosphere motivated...
By this kind of companionship.
Few are champions,
In an atmosphere motivation mostly sits.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The ruling class is and will continue to be the class of decision makers.
quote by Jean-Francois Lyotard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Incantation
A white well
In a black cave;
A bright shell
In a dark wave.
A white rose
Black brambles hood;
Smooth bright snows
In a dark wood.
A flung white glove
In a dark fight;
A white dove
On a wild black night.
A white door
In a dark lane;
A bright core
To bitter black pain.
A white hand
Waved from dark walls;
In a burnt black land
Bright waterfalls.
A bright spark
Where black ashes are;
In the smothering dark
One white star.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There isn't much discussion of ruling class in America even in Boston, probably one of the most class-conscious cities in the country?
quote by Iris Chang
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black men, White men
should i be led to believe
that the white men's heart
is soft as cotton? and when
touched, is torched, bursts into flame
to settle comfortably in black,
a trail of humble lesson for the soul
should i be led to believe
that a black man's heart is
full of courage? charging like a bull
through America black or white
settling for nothing in between?
should i be led to believe that
black and white work the
theory of ying and yang
ever balancing to rev up the world?
rice would even grow in bush
black hair turns eventually into
a crown of white wisdom
and blackboards light up
knowledge in white chalk
white shines at its best in black
and where else but a piece of white
where black could make its clearest stamp
of its stand - left or right, right or wrong
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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History does nothing; it does not possess immense riches, it does not fight battles. It is men, real, living, who do all this.
The Gash
Is that gash in your leg
Really why you have stopped?
?Cause I've noticed all the others
Though they're gashed, they're still going
?Cause I feel like the real reason
That you're quitting, that you're admitting
That you've lost all the will to battle on
Will the fight for our sanity
Be the fight of our lives?
Now that we've lost all the reasons
That we thought that we had
Still the battle that we're in
Rages on till the end
With explosions, wounds are open
Sights and smells, eyes and noses
But the thought that went unspoken
Was understanding that you're broken
Still the last volunteer battles on
Battles on
Battles on
song performed by by Flaming Lips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The ruling ideas of each age have ever been the ideas of its ruling class.
Black people have always been used as a buffer in this country between powers to prevent class war.
quote by Toni Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black History
Boom, boom, boom!
That was in 1530 to the Slave Trade;
My Mama told me so,
My Papa told me so,
In the name of our ancestors gone by;
Slaves for arms,
Slaves for powder,
Slaves for hardware,
Slaves for spirits;
Boom, boom, boom! !
All over the West Coast of Africa!
Today, i am a Blackman to tell you a story.
Black History, the Black African, the Black Race;
Of my ancestors gone by,
Boom, boom, boom!
Black head, black sugar, black coffee;
Where are the true identities of the Blacks?
That was in 1530 to the Slave trade.
Black History, black love;
A Black Race to a call.
Tap your fingers and do think about it,
My Mama told me so;
Bllack shoes, black phones;
With the Black History gone too soon,
My Papa told me so.
Black hair, black eyes;
The black coal to steam up the engines!
In the name of my ancestors gone by;
But, where are the black pens of love to share?
Do think about this and learn from it,
Boom, boom, boom!
A Blackman in the house to tell us a story;
Where is William Wilberforce?
Where is Thomas Buxton?
Where is Granville Sharp?
What about the Slaves? !
These men need to tell us more;
They killed my ancestors softly without compensations!
Black love, black stream, a black home to live in;
Like 'Naughty By Nature',
I've got 'Queen Latifah' to tell us more.
Of the Black Songs,
Of the Black race,
With a Black-Limo to keep us going;
This Slave Trade was a Black History to us all.
Boom, boom, boom!
Do contact Africa to learn more from this;
Like a black bird, a black cat and the black fingers! !
Do contact Africa to see things for yourselves.
Oh Blackman,
When are they going to admit to what they did?
Like a Black Ninja in the house,
Do know your history before you destroy yourselves.
Boom, boom, boom!
The very sound of the Slaves marching on;
This is our colour and, we have to respect it.
Black Cop, Black Soldier;
A Black Marine to a call,
We still have more to learn from each other.
Black wine, Black Doctor, Black People;
Know all about your history.
About where you came from and,
Where you are today;
Black seed, black marble, Black Prophets!
We still have more to learn.
Slaves for arms,
Slaves for hardware,
Slavces for powder,
Slaves for spirits;
Boom, boom, boom! ! !
Black beauty, black sea, black pot;
Black Nurse, black melody, black stamp;
Know your history always.
Of the freed Slaves from England to Sierra Leone,
With those from America to Liberia! ! ! !
Today the Black Panther is here to stay like,
The Black Writer.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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For My History Teacher
I’m sitting in class,
My eyes about to close,
I hope teacher don’t see,
I hope she don’t see me.
Bored out of my mind,
Falling so behind,
Cannot concentrate,
I came to class too late.
Although I was on time,
My body was I mean,
My mind is still outside,
From class trying to hide.
What does all this mean?
I haven’t used it yet,
How can I retain it,
When already I forget?
And then she walks over,
That teacher of mine,
A smile in her eyes,
A gentle one at that,
She puts her hand on me,
And sets me kind of free.
Now here I am in class,
Learning about the past,
About history,
And what it did for me.
How we can learn,
From mistakes of old,
Of people so different,
Some so very bold.
Some stood against oppression,
Some stood against the wrong,
Some said it with dignity,
Some said it with a song.
I owe it to them,
And teacher here to hear,
What they did for us,
And no longer fear.
That knowledge is so dull,
No longer hurts my brain,
No longer hurts my skull,
It will surely keep me sane.
The past is the future,
Unless I stay awake,
So I can benefit,
There’s much more at stake.
Than I thought before,
Before I got to class,
Thank you History teacher,
For bringing to life the past.
I never got bored in History class, because I had a wonderful History Teacher. This is for her.
poem by Aisha Sherazi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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